brought beyond the frontiers of his empire, on my way
to France. After such a decision, I might well believe,
as well as all those who took an interest in my fate, that
I was saved from the fury of my enemies ; but it turned
out otherwise, for my foes were numerous and powerful.
Notwithstanding the decision of the Emperor, they obtained my incarceration anew, until I had made a full
payment of a sum of sixty thousand roubles, equal to
about two hundred thousand francs, in which I was
amerced as ' damages,' for in Russia, it seems, that a
price is set upon the life of a human being.
"I was again arrested ; but, thanks to some friends, I was able to escape, and reached Germany, from whence I wrote that I recognised myself a debtor to the amount of the sixty thousand roubles, and promised to send them , in the shortest possible time-and then I determined to conceal myself with the greatest possible care. Had I acted differently, I should have been given up to the Russian government.
By means of the forced loan from yourself, and the aid of some friends, I was able to meet the pecuniary demand of my enemies, and to obtain a full acquittance, as well as an order for my perfect freedom from arrest for the future. Once having this order in my hands, I knew that I could appear in public. Your secret removal from Munich prevented me from seeing you before now ; but now, having discovered it, I determined to play out my part of the mysterious visitor to the end." It was thus that the Colonel terminated his recital. Since then he has lived in happiness with his wife at the chateau at Walstein which is but a few leagues distant from Vienna.
EVENING .
BY JOSEPH H. BUTLER.
THE wings of evening, tinged with blue,
Are folding softly o'er the globe ;
The western clouds, of golden hue,
The face of heaven in glory robe ;
Majestic, on the mountain brow,
The green-robed forests frowning rise ;
And rocks, which tempests fail to bow,
Bask brightly in the pale blue skies.
The bosom of yon Western main
Is rich with lurid tracks of light,
Its billows have no earthly stain,
They glow with heavenly radiance bright :
Light's holy mantle drops on ALL,
Ocean- and rock-and tree-and spire,
Softly the shadowy glories fall,
As dew-drops of ethereal fire!
Above-around-beneath, it glows
With mystic beauty, all supreme,
Blending the blushes of the rose
With the rich sapphire's golden gleam !
A SKETCH
OF THE FEVER OF '93 .
BY HENRY J. VANDYKE.
" And men forgot their passions in the dread Of this their desolation." BYRON. A DEATH-LIKE stillness reigned throughout the streets of the almost deserted city; and the green grass was springing from the pavements of the once crowded thoroughfares. The hum of business was no longer heard ; and even the voice of revelry was hushed in the deep silence of despair. Many a bright eye had become dim, many a fair cheek had grown pale ; thousands had fled from the path of the awful pestilence, or been swept to the tomb as with the besom of destruction. In the stillness of the grassy meadow or the shady woods, where spring scatters her fragrant flowers and her opening blossoms with so bountiful a hand, there is an influence which calms the soul. Each bursting bud, each rustling leaf, each blossom that opens its bright cup to catch the falling dew, speaks a familiar language and teaches a delightful lesson ; and the glad music of the happy birds, or the murmuring stream finds an echo in every heart. But when we follow the silent tread of the pestilence through the ruins of departed greatness ; when we walk amid the stillness of some deserted habitation, where the spirits of the dead seem still to linger amid the mouldering productions of art, a sadness steals over the heart, and the still, small voice within whispers, " dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." The shadows of night once more environed the silent city ; and Mary P still sat an anxious watcher by the bedside of her husband. With a woman's constancy she had used every exertion to divert the dart of death, and save him from an early grave. But all was vain. The last ties which bound soul and body together seemed to be fast yielding beneath the touch of the pestilence. And now that faithful wife, clasping her sleeping infant to her bosom, sat gazing upon the livid features of the dying man. She spoke not- she wept not. The warmth of her affection, and the violence of her sorrow seemed to have dried the fountain of her tears. 66 Mary !" said the dying man, “ Mary, my faithful wife, it has been a hard struggle between life and death ; but now it is nearly over. I feel that I am dying. May God bless you for your faithfulness, and spare our child for your sake. Fare-." The death-rattle stopped his utterance. One slight convulsion and he was a lifeless corpse. 66 Throw out your dead !" cried a gruff voice in the street ; and the solemn echo sounded like a summons from the land of spirits. The doleful lumbering of the cart wheels, and the still more doleful call of the rude undertaker died away in the distance.
