me-there is still hope-still something left-the cigars I received as a gift on my marriage. I had forgotten them-they are admirable!→→→→ they will sell for gold And I hugged the innocent partner of my sufferings to my bosom. Thou wert thinner then, dearest, than thou art now,' said Fantail, with a glance of ineffable affection towards his lady. "Well, sir, what do you think those cigars were worth to me?' con tinued he. gave forty pounds for them: say you sold them for twenty.' Twenty! my dear fellow-no! Those cigars were worth six HUNDRED THOUSAND POUNDS to me! as you shall hear. I said there was a smell of cigar smoke issuing from our humble cot-and why? because somebody was smoking cigars. And who was that somebody? Amelia's father, the burgomaster, Van Slappenbroch. His heart had partially relented towards his only child. He determined to see her. found out our wretched abode in our absence- -saw our unconscious infants sleeping there, huddled on the straw in the desolate chamber. The only article of furniture left was your chest of cigars. Van Slappenbroch opened it-tried one-'twas excellent; a second-delicious! a third !— his daughter entered-the father and the tobacconist melted at once, and as she fainted in his arms he was reconciled to us for ever!' He "The rest of Fantail's story, my dear sir, you may easily imagine. Directly, they heard in Baker-street that the Dutchman had pardoned his daughter, and given her his fortune, of course old Fantail came down with his, and disinherited that squinting traitor, Simon. 'And, my dear fellow,' said Fred, if you will drive down with me to Fantail Castle, I will pay you the ten thousand pounds you lent me, and introduce you to a lady my sister Anna Maria, who is very, very anxious to renew her acquaintance with you.' D That lady is now my wife, sir,' the general said, getting up to go away and she never objects to smoking." ! "Who is the general?' said I to our host, when the teller of the above. singular story had left the room. Don't you know him?" replied my Lord Hobanob, with a smile 'you may believe every word he says. That is General Sir Goliah Gahagan." THE FIDDLER OF FRANKFORT. BY DUDLEY COSTELLO. If music be the food of love, play on! In the ancient and free city of Frankfort-on-the-Maine there dwelt, in the seventeenth century, in one corner of that picturesque square called the Römer-berg, a worthy and respectable elder named Adrian Gutenfels, a merchant, who during a long course of persevering industry, had amassed sufficient wealth to place him on a level with the most opulent burghers of the city, and enable him to bestow upon his only daughter, Beatrix, a portion large enough to qualify her the richest heiress in Frankfort. Adrian Gutenfels was a widower; but his daughter was now of an age sufficient to regulate the affairs of his household, and a more momentous circumstance-was also fair and marriageable. The merchant was a shrewd and thrifty dealer; he loved his daughter, and was fond both of his wealth and of her; but with all his worldliness and fondness he was a humorist, and in following the bent of his humour he very often forgot all else beside. Beatrix was a sweet and amiable girl, and loved nothing so much as her father, except, occasionally, her own will. Time brings about strange changes; and it was not long before Adrian began to be aware that the reputation of being the father of the prettiest maiden, and the possessor of the finest fortune in Frankfort, had also its drawbacks; and Beatrix had also learnt that even her will might succumb to something more powerful. It has been said that the Herr Gutenfels was a humorist; his peculiarity-for it was a single one-had taken a bias, which, perhaps, may more easily be accounted for in Germany than elsewhere; it was an extraordinary penchant for music, which, amid all the toils of trade, the anxieties of public and private life, had proved to him an unfailing source of comfort and enjoyment. It might be that there was something hereditary in this inclination, for his father and grandfather had each cultivated the art with some success; and he, inheriting their talent and a magnificent violin, was himself no contemptible performer. Of course he had done his best to instil into the mind of the fair Beatrix the grand principle of his philosophy, that a knowledge of harmony was the true secret of this world's happiness; but it is probable that his daughter took a wider view of the subject than old Adrian, and did not limit her exemplification of the theory to the accord of sweet sounds on stringed instruments, and, if the truth must be told, rather neglected the branch which he considered so essential. Devoted as he was to the science of music, he could not, sometimes, suppress a sigh at finding, while he was descanting on the merits of certain of the singers in a recent church festival or procession, that the reflections of Beatrix seemed more to harmonise with the splendour of the scene, the gallant bearing, not of the choristers, but of the martial youths of the burgher guard, or the magnificence of the festive decorations. At such moments, he would shake his head, half despondingly, half in jest, and say, "Ah, daughter mine! when thou weddest one of these gay burghers, he must be more musical than thou art, or thy father's days will cease to be blithe ones !" The only answer of Beatrix to such a remark was a smile, a deprecating kiss, or an appeal to her harpsichord, where she always found the means of charming her father's spirit, causing him, for the time, to forget that he had ever doubted her proficiency. But when he began to discover that it was rather in selfdefence, than from the eagerness of enjoyment, that Beatrix strove to please him, he would revert, almost unconsciously, to the same theme, and, by degrees, he formed a determination that if ever his family were increased by the addition of a son-in-law, he should not only be a proficient in music, but of a spirit congenial with his own. And, in coming this conclusion, he imagined he was carefully providing for his daughter's happiness; for what criterion for selection could a giddy young girl have, comparable with that which he proposed, which contained within itself the germ of all the virtues and good qualities essential to the marriage state? He therefore one day took occasion to revert to the subject, and gave Beatrix to understand that such was his fixed intention; and, that as she was now marriageable, he should seek a lover duly qualified to claim her hand. Alas! early as it seemed, this intention was avowed too late! Beatrix was already in love, and, worst of all, her lover was no musician! This she did not acknowledge, though she endeavoured to combat her father's intention, but the idea was too strongly fixed in his mind to induce him to change; and, while she despaired of ever teaching Ludovic a single note, she prayed for one of those lucky whirls of Fortune's wheel which so often fix our fate, and mar the longcalculated schemes of human design. The youth who had been so fortunate as to awaken this tender feeling in her bosom, was young Ludovic von Eppenstein-handsome, gay, a younger son of a good family in the neighbouring duchy of Darmstadt, and consequently poor. He was, of course, an ex-student, and thrown on the world to make his way. He had travelled through France and the Low Countries, had "fleshed his maiden sword" in the desultory warfare which the factions waged, from time to time, against the power of Cardinal Richelieu; and, afterwards, when compelled to relinquish the sword, had proceeded to Antwerp, and, with an eagerness which great taste and early aptitude rendered of more speedy accomplishment, had embraced the profession, and become a pupil, of the princely and immortal Rubens, whom he afterwards accompanied to Cologne, and, favoured and esteemed for his talent, had been in constant intercourse with the Flemish Apelles, till the time of his death. If the sister arts could have been transmuted in him, he might have stood a good chance in seeking the hand of the fair Beatrix; but, like many a clever fellow, he knew nought of the science of counterpoint; the gamut was, to him, more unintelligible than the Talmud, and the only musical taste he was ever known to evince, was shown in the readiness with which he used to join his voice in a grand chorus of his fellow-collegians, in which the cannikin was made to clink right merrily by way of accompaniment. How and where Beatrix and Ludovic found time to fall in love, it skills not to inquire. There were mutual acquaintance, there was the old church of St. Nicholas, in the Römerberg, and there were pleasant walks on the banks of the Maine, beyond the city walls. Chance, or something more determinate, made Ludovic discover that the choral accompaniment to divine service, was better performed in the aforesaid church when Beatrix joined the choir; the society of his friends became more agreeable when Beatrix was known to be a visitor; and the evening ramble beside the noble river happily coincided with both their tastes, and here they often met, and, as they ought not to have fallen in love, of course they did. In the meantime, the determination of old Gutenfels became known throughout Frankfort, and straightway young and old among the bachelors of the free city, began most assiduously to cultivate their musical talents. The church of St. Nicholas was crowded with quaverers of all descriptions, and every shake intended for the ear of old Adrian, and directed at the heart of the fair damsel, caused a similar vibration in the bosom of poor Eppenstein, who strove with all his energies to awaken something like an harmonious effort to defeat his dangerous rivals. did so but once, but he had better have been silent, for so strangely out of tune was his chime, that, as if by common accord, all the other voices sunk into silence, and Ludovic, in addition to the horror of conducting the harmony of a whole congregation, had to endure the scowling brow of old Gutenfels, annoyed at the unwelcome melody-a brow in which he fancied he read annihilation to all the hopes he held dear on earth. Never was there a period in the history of the city, when the gaie science had found so many votaries in Frankfort, as within the first week of the promulgation of Adrian's decree. The art of the old Minnesingers was revived, the charms of Beatrix, the honours and glories of her father's wealth and station, were chanted in every possible manner. Many an elderly gentleman irrevocably cracked his treble, and many a young one bawled himself hoarse beyond redemption! Such trumpeting and puffing of wind instruments-such clanging, jarring, and scraping of the brazen, the ivory, and the wooden! One would have thought that the ghost of Orpheus had found a second Hebrus, and reanimated the clods and stones upon its shores! But the ancient proverb, illustrative of the ill-success which attended Satan's endeavour to obtain wool from hogs was only once more too apparent. The "great cry," ended as it began-in sound alone; a cloud of suitors appeared,-put in their claims, and urged their pretensions with all the melodious force which vocalists (on the stage) are famed for exhibiting. But the lady constituted herself also a critic; she shrugged her shoulders at one, and curled her lip at another,—rather, it must be confessed, from dislike to the performer rather than in condemnation of his skill, and her father's ear generally sympathised with his daughter's feelings. It seemed, indeed, as if Adrian Gutenfels were destined to be the only musical man worthy of the name, in his native city. It was sad to him to be the denizen of such a Boeotia,-it was heart-rending to think that his fellow-burghers were so wanting in harmony, but it all seemed too true. In the meanwhile, the hearts of Beatrix and Ludovic once more rejoiced, and already they began to hope that fate might prove kind, when an event occurred which marred the bright prospect, and dissolved all their golden dreams. One fine morning in the month of August, in the year 1643, a traveller was descried descending the hill which overlooks Frankfort, after emerging from the long avenue and forest, which must be passed in coming from Darmstadt. He was mounted on a mule, whose steady, even pace assorted well with the employment of the rider; but perhaps it may be as well to describe him more particularly. His dress bore strong tokens of a military character, though there was that about him which did not altogether convey the idea of one of the Lanzknechten or Schwarzrittern who, at this time, abounded in Germany. He wore a corslet of steel, ornamented at the throat by a broad circlet, set with golden studs; his lower limbs, encased in leather, were protected on the thighs by plate armour, and a strong buff boot, with a massive spur, completed his nether man. A broad belt sustained a long cut and thrust double-edged Toledo; his cloak fell carelessly over one shoulder, leaving his right arm free, and displaying a long rosary of large beads, which hung across his breast; his bonnet was puckered and slouched, and three or four drooping feathers fell in easy negligence behind. His figure was good, his frame nervous and muscular, but his face did not express the beau-ideal of youthful beauty. His cheeks were high and square, his mouth large and open, showing a strong and brilliant set of teeth; his nose was bold, but short; his eyes small, but expressive; and there was a peculiar character of humour in his countenance, which was lit up with a certain undefinable quality which impressed the beholder favourably; and though a man might be inclined to say-especially if a lady were by-" a good-natured looking fellow, but an ugly dog," it is not quite certain that every lady would have assented to the final clause. But all who saw him on this eventful morning, were inclined to the opinion of his being a most extraordinary person. There he sat, erect in his saddle-the bridle-rein thrown carelessly on the neck of the mule, which gently pursued the even tenour of its way, occasionally raising and depressing its long ears, as if under the influence of some secret sympathy. A large, empty bag hung on one side of his saddle-bow; a travelling-mail was strapped behind him; in his left hand, pressed against his shoulder, he carried a violin, while in his right he featly waved a "Fiedelbogen," ever and anon extracting the most dulcet tones, and joining thereunto the accompaniments of a voice at once clear, melodious, and full of power. Such an apparition could not fail to be an attractive one, especially at such a moment; and all who saw, imagined they beheld in him another suitor for the hand of Beatrix. Amongst others of the inhabitants of Frankfort who chanced to encounter this stranger, was Adrian Gutenfels, and his idea was the same. The traveller had completed the descent of the hill, and arrived at the bridge which leads into the suburbs of Frankfort; the mule paused, for there stood-not "an angel in the path," but -one who demanded toll ere passage could be permitted. The stranger, too much interested in his sonata, merely took advantage of the halt to shift the position of his instrument, while the gate-keeper asserted his demand. "Das Brückgelt, mein Herr," vociferated the Janitor. "Ueber Flussen, unter Brücken, Immer geht mein' kleiner Schiff;"† warbled the melodious stranger. The bridge-money; toll. July.-VOL. LXXIV. NO. CCXCV. 2 D |