play their part who wonder at them idly, as if they were gazing at some supernatural phenomenon. But we pretend not to delineate its expressive and strangely varied physiognomy, which needs a far greater than Lavater to describe, inasmuch as it is far more difficult accurately to conceive, and truly to portray, the mental than the bodily features.

In fine, the word genius embodies all that is extraordinary in mind. It has a magical and inspiring sound. It fills the memory with noble recollections; it is the source of a rapture, to be felt only and expressed by those whose mental vision has been often dazzled by its bright creations, enchanting as those scenes which some have fabled of fairy lands. Were we invited to describe its nature, we would attempt no cold or narrow definition; we would point in silence to its favoured children.

"Oh! they are nature's own! and as allied
To the vast mountains, and the eternal sea,
They want no written history; theirs a voice
For ever speaking to the heart of man."

W. F. B.

HYMNS TO NIGHT.
(Translated from the German of Novalis.)

VI.

Longing for Death.

BELOW, within the earth's dark breast,
From realms of light departing,
There sorrow's pang and sigh oppressed
Is signal of our starting.

In narrow boat we ferry o'er

Speedily to heaven's shore.

To us be hallowed endless Night,

Hallowed eternal slumber!

The day hath withered us with light,

And troubles beyond number.

No more 'mong strangers would we roam;

We seek our Father, and our home.

Upon this world, what do we here,

As faithful, fond, and true men?

The Old but meets with scorn and sneer :

What care we for the New, then?

Oh, lone is he, and sadly pines,
Who loves with zeal the olden times!

Those old times when the spirits light
To heaven as flame ascended;
The Father's hand and features bright
When men yet comprehended;
When many a mortal, lofty-souled,
Yet bore the mark of heavenly mould.

Those olden times when budded still
The stems of ancient story,
And children, to do Heaven's will,

In pain and death sought glory;
Those times when life and pleasure spoke,
Yet many a heart with fond love broke.

Those old times when in fires of youth
Was God himself revealed,

And early death, in love and truth,

His sweet existence sealed,

Who put not from him care and pain,
That dear to us he might remain.

With trembling longing these we see,
By darkness now belated,
In Time's dominions ne'er will be
Our ardent thirsting sated.

First to our home 'tis need we go,
Seek we these holy times to know.

And our return what still can stay?
Long have the best-loved slumbered;
Their grave bounds for us life's drear way,
Our souls with grief are cumbered.
All that we have to seek is gone,

The heart is full,-the world is lone.

Unending, with mysterious flame,
O'er us sweet awe is creeping;
Methought from viewless distance came
An echo to our weeping;

The loved-ones long for us on high,
And sent us back their pining sigh.

Below, to seek the tender bride,

To Jesus, whom we cherish!
Good cheer! lo, greys the even-tide,—
Love's agonies shall perish.-

A dream-our fetters melt, at rest
We sink upon the Father's breast.

(End of the Hymns to Night.)

ELLERTON CASTLE;

A Romance.

BY "FITZROY PIKE."

CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIFTH.

A MARVELLOUS LOVE STORY, AND A VERY REMARKABLE WEDDING.

SORELY have we been tempted to play false with the respected reader, and omit from our narration the circumstances contained in the present chapter. Having set forth, however, in this our history, with the desire nothing to disguise, nothing to suppress, but steadily to follow the chronicles of Ellerton, we are at length resolved to encounter the risk of being thought relaters of impossibilities, or, at the very least, of things that never have occurred. But perhaps we shall find better justification if we quote the chronicles themselves, modernizing their spelling for convenience sake.

"Now Sir Richard of Ellerton, or Richard Benstone, during all this time, standeth, with great grief, by the grave of Esther, but hath, by the importunities of Curts and the other men, been so sore perplexed, that he cometh shortly to the cave to take counsel upon his wicked deeds.

"And while the rest, expecting his arrival, are assembled in the cave, and hear how the mistress of Sir Edward Heringford was captured, it is rightly judged, that Sir Edward, with many of his friends, will follow in pursuit, and that master Maybird, who has made the head of Curts to smart a second time, would lead them to the cavern.

"The fire therefore was quenched, and the fuel was carried from the hearth, and the men went into hiding places, but they could not persuade the others that the cave was deserted, seeing that master Maybird placed his hand upon the hearth and found that it was yet quite warm, and that fuel must have been carried away before they came. Therefore Sir Edward Heringford, although the cave was so made that it would not be possible for any man, not accustomed, to discover its passages; Sir Edward Heringford, I say, departed but for a short time, together with the others and Sir Hubert de St. Fay, and remained close by at his own home in Ellerton.

"Now when Sir Edward and the others had departed, Simon Byre and master Curts coming out of their hiding places, were alone together in the cave, for their companions waited in hiding without side, to warn Sir Richard of Ellerton, or Richard Benstone, of the danger, in case that he should come and might be taken by the enemy. And Simon Byre used towards master Curts many strange expressions of love, and reminded him how that he had sold his love, and wooed him, and said that she was a woman born, and not a man, as people thought of her; and master Curts being much astonished (as well he might be, although such things have before occurred) and to save time, for he feared what might follow, asked the story of that strange woman, which Simon Byre did give.”

These chronicles have inspired us with courage; so coolly do they relate the marvel that we have lost our faith in its improbability, and do not fear to continue with the story of Simon Byre:

"As my colour tells, I am not of English, nor even of European extraction. I am the daughter of a far distant clime, where the men are free as the winds that fan them, and the women live but as their slaves. I, born a woman, scorned this vile subjection; even as a girl I cannot tell how deeply I despised my sex, longing to be one of that nobler race, whose characters since then I have assumed. I was one of twins, the other one a boy, like me in every feature, but it was he that should have been the woman. Quiet as he was and gentle, loving not the active sports to which he was inured, a dreamer in the forest or at the waterfall, I urged him that he would change sex with me, to all appearance; we were children then he laughed at the idea. He laughed at it, but me it haunted, me it never left,-I could not shake it off, I determined that it should be so. One day, when we walked together, I slew him ;easily, for I was stronger far than he. I took his dress and put it on myself; mine own I placed upon his corpse, then hid it where I hoped it never would be found-cast it into the waterfall he loved; there no man found it. I returned, to all purposes, a boy; the fraud was not detected; when I told them my sister was dead, and framed a tale to explain it, the mother wept some woman's tears; the others grieved a little indeed, but not much, for 'she was but a girl,' said they. Then I rejoiced at what I had done, for I felt that it was me of whom they spoke thus slightingly, and hated my own sex still more. After this, I joined in the exercises of the boys, excelled them all, grew strong and fierce; my voice only seemed likely to betray me, and would have done so, had not all

my other qualities been manly. He is strong and brave,' they said, 'he cannot be a woman.' As a man whom woman's beauty cannot touch, I wasted not my energy in love; while others spent their labour for a smile, even from their own slave, I worked to excel these proud masters; my passions unchecked, became ungovernable; none dared oppose me--but why need I tell of this?—I became the head of my tribe, when the chief died suddenly.

"What then I did concerneth thee but little. A ship touched at our island, and bore me off with others. I would have gone willingly to see more of the white men, but not by force. When all slept I set that ship on fire, and jumping overboard, swam to land-all my victims perished. In the flames they learned my liberty was to be respected.-Ha! that was vengeance, Curts!

"On board the next vessel I embarked of my own free will, for I longed to see other men, and other lands. I gave my services for a passage came to England-did good service for a man of influence in the state-secret service for which he paid me well, and obtained me my office in the Tower. There I saw Heringford. He insulted me, I swore him vengeance,—to execute it sought out thee and thy friends; found like myself all actuated by human passions, but thee alone above them; thou alone regardest all as a speculation, art unmoved by every circumstance that stirs up weaker blood, and seekest profit only. Thee, therefore, I respected; I know no other reason wherefore it can be that thee I love. I knew that only on a path of gold would it be possible to reach thy heart; I bought thy love, and have it."

Curts, beyond measure astonished at these disclosures, was absolutely speechless when Simon Byre, in pursuance of her strange history, discoursed of marriage. The idea of matrimony had never entered into Curts's calculations; but the proposal was repeated with a look so fierce that Curts felt compelled to mutter something about a priest.

"It wants no priest," said Simon ;-taking up a stick she broke it into two pieces, and gave one half to Curts. "Take this, and vow thy faith-such is the custom of our country; so long as we are contented with each other, these broken pieces are preserved; if returned or lost, the marriage is dissolved.-It will do."

With these strange rites unhappy Curts was wedded to his masculine companion, and took the broken stick, with the firm resolve that he would lose it on the earliest opportunity.