slower and slower, until they rested upon that long, grinning monument of consumption, upon which the moonlight fell, silvering the hard and bony points, that seemed like a skeleton covered with yellow parchment. silvery brightness. Cold, clear and cheerless the flood of light poured in at the open windows, lighting | up like the ghost of day that chamber of death. Chilled through and through, Dudley awakes. For a moment he gazed in startled wonder at the strange scene around him. Then a dim recollection Oh! how he longed for liberty and life-for some of the night stole over his now sobered brain, and power to lift the awful punishment from his soul. A seizing his cap he strode toward the door-to find it confused thought of escape crept in-of the dark well locked! In vain he pulled and knocked, the echoes running the length of the house down to vaults where that rung through the silent room were his only an- the refuse flesh was cast. How deep and dark to his swers. The stout door resisted all attempts to break mind it seemed-deeper and deeper, miles and miles it open. Foiled and disheartened he returned to the into the earth. The hall seems to lengthen outstove. Dudley shook with the cold that had numbed how huge it is? Again he turns to the body that his limbs while sleeping, and now seemed to be consumption owns-he tries to look from that to her penetrating to his very heart. Stooping, he raked-in vain. His eyes are fixed, they see no farther. among the ashes and found one live coal. Taking Did that hand move?-it seemed to move. It did— this gently up he made many efforts to kindle it to a the body turns-it raises and points its long, skinny blaze, but this last spark died out in the midst of his arm at her and shakes its horribly mutilated head. exertions. Nothing daunted, he looked to find some Another and another-and all raise slowly up and covering to shield him—nothing could be seen save point at her. And now they speak-what confused the sheets thrown carelessly over the dead. These blasphemy-what groans and cries! Hark! that he proceeded to gather. Pulling the frail covering well-known, once-loved voice, hear it-hear its gentle from form after form, leaving exposed the emaciated tones and dieremnants of consumption, the half-destroyed remains of quick disease, without a shudder-why starts he at this over which the moonlight falls so brightly-falls, striking heavily against the oak door. why gasp for breath and stare so wildly? "Oh! Dudley, come to me." He sees no more, he hears no more-gasping be Early next morning the janitor found him lying senseless where he had fallen. He was carried to his room, and all that medical science could do was done. Slowly he returned to sense, but not health. The cold had perfected its work-his limbs were without life, and after many days he was carried back to his father's house helpless as a child. So he yet remains, humble, sad and repentant. This cannot be-this is a hideous dream. He strikes his forehead, wrings his hands, staggers forward. No, no, he cannot look again. A chill horror curdles about his heart and he reels toward the door. He had one look-but one-yet that is frozen into his very soul. How long in dreadful agony he stood gazing down the hall, peopled with the dead. He dared not turn to where she lay-the poor little In the little church-yard, not far from his home, timid girl-she who so confidingly had trusted him, is a green mound, where the soft falling snow of and now rested among thieves, murderers, and cast- winter and the wild birds of spring see no name-no out poverty-claimed by Decay alone. He dared marble tomb, but where the long grass whispers in not look again-over her innocent form stood fearful the summer winds, Dudley Fletcher may be freRetribution-silent as the grave-terrible as Death.quently seen reading or musing silently, having been His eyes wandered from table to table, one by one, carried there, his only haunt from home. THE OPIUM EATER'S DREAM: OR THE MODERN FORTUNATUS. FROM THE GERMAN Of George DŎring. I PASSED some time, a few months ago, in the even-hilled city of the Bosphorus-in beautiful, but muddy Constantinople. I had seen and admired very thing that was to be seen and admired, as far s the Turks allow to a Christian dog. Often had. I tood at the portal of the mosque of St. Sophia, and azed with longing sighs upon the imperial seraglio ust opposite, in the vain hope that some veiled beauty would appear at one of the balconies, observe me, and then raise her veil, that I might at home, in my native place-Gelnhaus-describe a Turkish Sulana; for my susceptible heart had been trained in every way, by repeated journeys to large towns and capitals. One evening, however, I remarked that several black slaves eyed me attentively and suspiciously: I imagined also something threatening and dangerous in their gestures; and as, at the same time, several shots were heard from the interior of the seraglio-which seemed to intimate that capital punishment was being inflicted upon criminals, whose crimes were, perhaps, nothing worse than a few longing sighs, wafted to the imprisoned fair ones-a panic seized me, which drove me from the spot in tempestuous haste, whilst I inwardly swore a solemn oath never again to venture within a hundred yards of the sultan's palace. Be it known to the world that I am the traveling agent for the house of Messrs. Steinlein & Son, wine-merchants of Frankfort on the Main. I myself am called Gabriel Mostert, born in the town which, on account of the old legend, I call the Barbarossa town; and which deserves quite as wide a reputation as the town of Pisa, in Italy, for it contains just such a leaning tower. My countenance is round and ruddy, my eyes are lively and intellectual, my form powerful and muscular-five-feet-three. I am possessed by a spirit of speculation. I am determined to establish a famous house-not what they call famous in Frankfort, Leipzig, or Hamburg-no, I will establish the firm only for my Barbarossa town, and my little Kate, whose father gives her to me only upon condition that I settle down respectably in Gelnhaus, as a dealer in dry goods, in Drap de | Zephire, in Crêpe de Chine, and in veritable eau de Cologne. On this account, I persuaded my honored principals to a Constantinople speculation, which of fered a fair profit. I had, in fact, read in the best papers of the day, that the present sultan was busy in placing every thing upon a European footing. There can be no European footing without a European head; and what is a European head without the inspiration of Champagne, Burgundy, and Johannisburg? My principals agreed to every thing: I sailed from Trieste with casks and bottles, anchored in the Bosphorus, and the next day was employed in preparations to attract the worshipers of Islam to my European inspiration. The thing succeeded; my wines disappeared with charming celerity. Even the Mufti honored me with a visit, and assured me-while he tried my costly Johannisburg, of 1822, with the smack of a connoisseur-that his friend, the Abbot of Fulda, had done well to exalt this wine to his closet-it did indeed deserve to be drank in solitude, when not a breath, not a word could disturb the full enjoyment of the liquid gold. He tried a couple of bottles, and the European inspiration began then to beam so brilliantly from his eyes, that I verily believe, had any cunning missionary been at hand, he would have embraced Christianity. My affairs then were prosperous, and yet not so; for although the wines had found purchasers, the money for them was not forthcoming. From time to time I paid a visit to my Turkish debtors. I was kindly received with pipes and coffee, but of my money-not a word. I took care never rudely to remind them of it, having been assured by some Armenian friends that the Moslems could bear no dunning, and that unpleasant hints were often rewarded with a most unpleasant bastinado. I was sure of my money in the end, for I had already heard that it was the custom of all distinguished Turks to pay off all their debts on a certain day of the year, just before the Ramazan. The Ramazan was not very distant, and until then I had to wait with patience. It is a dreadful thing for a fiery young merchant, whose fancy revels in interest and commission, to have to parade up and down the streets of Constantinople in useless, idle patience. Thus, one beautiful afternoon, I sauntered toward Bujukdire, the summer residence of the European ambassadors. Here their many beautiful daughters dwelt, but now my heart was filled with thoughts of Kate, and the future establishment for the sale of fancy articles and eau de Cologne. Nevertheless, I trembled with excitement; for my eye rested upon the dome of St. Sophia, and involuntarily the oftrecalled wish stirred in my soul-"Wert thou only, O dearly loved Gabriel Mostert, as prosperous a house as this venerable church, which receives, according to well-accredited testimony, an income of ten thousand guilders daily." Ten thousand guilders! What a sublime thought! Shakspeare, Schiller, and Goethe had had great thoughts, and Bethman and Rothschild have carried the poesy of trade to a wonderful extent-but this mosque of St. Sophia-I must control myself—I must clip the wings of my speculative fancy, or it will carry me too far-to Golconda or Potosi. Return to thy home, to the old town, where bloomed for Barbarossa the fair Gela, and where blooms now the burgomaster's daughter, thy violet, and beside her, a shop stocked with all fancy articles, and with the delicious perfume of Karl Maria Farina of Cöln. With such reflections I was obliged to moderate I was perplexed. Van Delpt was usually a quiet my lively imagination while I approached Bujuk-matter-of-fact person. He did not seem to have dire, when I was awakened from my dreams of taken more than his usual allowance of Genivee, the home, and brought back to reality upon the Bospho- old Dutch phlegm had not vanished in the least from rus by a hearty slap upon my shoulder. his features, only there was to be seen there an inspired expression, not before observable, which beamed forth very brilliantly as he looked at the lit tle red house. "Then I will take the cover off the dish for you." continued the cook; "you shall learn how we ca enjoy Mahomet's seventh heaven here on earth. Yes, Mynheer, there, in that unpretending booth the bliss of earth and heaven can be enjoyed for a | few paras." Salam, aleikum !" I cried; and warding off the Turkish greeting, I sprang aside. I was too well acquainted with the proofs of esteem with which the Turks honor us poor Christians, when they find us in their way, not to immediately suppose that the slave of some noble Turk had chosen this means of informing me of his master's presence. A loud laugh in my ears corrected this false idea. As I turned round, I saw my two worthy friends, Mynheer Jan von Delpt-the Dutch Ambassador's cook, aud Monsieur Fleury-the French Ambassador's butler. We were right good friends, and had passed | many a jovial evening together. They came now just at the right time; they would serve to divert me, and we could enjoy a social hour, for this evening they were, as they assured me, free; their masters had accepted an invitation from the ReisEffendi. "Yes, monsieur," chimed in the Frenchman. "you will not take it ill of us if we refuse your invitation. With you we should only intoxicate ourselves, there we shall be entranced! It is a delight which we have enjoyed once a year since we arrived in Stamboul. To-day, the Reis-Effendi has procured us this opportunity-who knows when it will come again? Come with us, M. Mostert, and inhale rapture, bliss, enchantment. Yes, M. Mostert, no champagne can procure for us that bliss to which ! now invite you. I am a butler, and you know how much what I say must mean. I surely know all the joys which the grapes of Constantinople, Canary, or Vesuvius can yield. But what are they to the rapture that awaits us? Does empire please you-a "Come," I said, as I seized both by the arm, and kingdom is yours the instant you think of it. Would stopped them, "we'll contrive quite a charming you be Grand Vizier, Kapudin Pacha, or minister supper together. In wine you shall have free plenipotentiary-in a flash it is as you wish. Come choice. You, Van Delpt, like something heavy-with us, and you will thank your friends, the fat Port wine, or genuine Madeira. It shall not be wanting, and we will drink to the health of your Margery von Minderhout, in Amsterdam. You, M. Fleury, shall have Champagne from Sillery, and vive Demoiselle Manon Larochière, rue Montmartre. I stand by the true German. O, ye honored grapes of Rudesheim, with what shall I compare you, if not with little Kate of Castle street, Barbarossa town; your sweet flower, with the flower of her beauty your animating fire, with the fire that gleams in her eyes. Come, friends, let us bring down the high ideal to actual life. The trio of our loves shall sound in Madeira, Champagne, and Rudesheim; and in spired fancy shall present to our raptured gaze the gracious forms of our beloved ones." cook and the lean butler, for procuring for you an unknown, but incomparable delight. I have determined to-day to be Henry the Fourth, but only until the moment when the rascal Ravaillac murders the excellent monarch; then I change myself into the Count St. Germain, who, it is well known, was three hundred years old when he visited the royal court of Versailles, and probably is still living somewhere, under a feigned name, in the fullness of youth and strength. Vive, Henri Quatre," cried M. Fleury, while my brain whirled, and I allowed myself to be drawn toward the house with the red flag. I knew Fleury, and could rely upon what he said. I might be a king, a sultan, or a Rothschild. There I paused-it was a grand idea—a poetical excitement "No," I said, "I must always remain a good Christian, according to the Augsburg confession; a different happiness awaits me in the little red house money, plenty of money, and little Kate, in Gelnhaus." I had, I thought, outshone myself in the poetry of made my heart beat faster in my breast. But prothis invitation. I wished to touch and win them-saically enough came the change of faith between but my friends seemed neither touched by my re- me and my wishes. semblance of their loved ones, nor won by the picture of the costly wines that awaited them at my lodgings. They looked thoughtfully at each other, shook their heads, and withstood all my attempts to lead them back to the city. Then Van Delpt shook himself loose from me, and taking me by the shoul- "You are, and always will be an enthusiast, ders, turned me round as the wind would a weather-Fleury," replied Van Delpt to the Frenchman's invicock, and said, pointing to a little wooden house, upon the top of which floated a red silk flag"Do you see that booth, and do you know what you can obtain there for a mere nothing?" I answered in the negative. tation. "You are, in spite of your employment for so many years in the diplomatic line, a true Frenchman, devoted to the fair. For my part I hold a middle course. I must have something solid. I will to-day be no happier than my renowned countryman, Wi liam Benkels, after he had discovered the salting of the herring. I aspire to the delight only of one moment, but that moment shall last-the great moment in which William Benkels stood before the first cask of successfully-salted herrings. It was in the year 1416. Imagine the man to yourselves, when he stood at last before the completed work, over which his mind had brooded for so many years, and which | brought such a blessing upon his Fatherland. He foresaw in this moment, a thousand inventions to which this one must give birth; soused fish, pickles, sardines every thing which can gain immortality through salt. He saw, by means of his invention, tons of gold pouring into the coffers of his Fatherland, and he heard his name lauded by posterity. Yes, thou immortal William Benkels, to-day I will be thou, and enjoy the rapture of that moment, when, standing before that cask, thine own greatness and the happy future thou hadst prepared for thy country was revealed to thee." These representations were not without their effect. My curiosity was excited. We now stood before the little house with the red flag. I saw some Turks staggering out, pale, hollow-eyed, and trembling in every limb. "Are those the devotees of your temple of bliss?" said, I to my companions. "They seem to me far more like the inmates of a hospital than men who have just succeeded in a speculation in rapture." Van Delpt pushed me in, and Fleury pressed forward eagerly. "Those are stupid Turks," he said, "who wish to be always happy, and when one bliss ends they desire always another, which is contrary to the whole order of nature. But forward, Gabriel Mostert! you shall learn every thing within; light shall spring up for you there like the conflagration of Moscow. Vive Henri Quatre," he shouted, and pushed me on. "William Benkels forever!" cried the cook, who passed his arm around me and swung me into the little house. I stood, giddy from the sudden movement, in a large, darkened room. Although without it was perfectly light, here all illumination proceeded from a dimly burning lamp, hung in the middle of the apartment. Windows I could see none, and a strange, bewildering perfume filled the room. My friends bore me on, and before I could observe distinctly the objects which surrounded me, I felt myself seated upon a cushion, and Van Delpt and Fleury took their places beside me. I could not collect my ideas, I only saw a grinning Turk, dressed in red, who stepped forth from the darkness and approached with a silver plate, upon which were a number of little, reddish-brown balls, while a crystal goblet of water stood in the middle of it. My friends seized the balls and swallowed several of them. "Now eat, Gabriel," cried Van Delpt, while his left arm encircled me powerfully. "Feast upon delight. It is opium-the manna of immortality." His eyes started from his head-I seemed to gaze upon a madman. I tried to extricate myself from him but in vain. He endeavored, in the meanwhile, with his right hand to slip some opium balls into my mouth, but I set my teeth firmly, and shook my head. "Bon appetit, Monsieur," said the Frenchman, who seized me upon the other side. Two hands with the horrible little balls, hovered before my eyes ready to force me to partake. You must eat like us, you must be blessed as we shall be. Vive Henri Quatre!" "I will not," I cried with horror. "If you don't release me I'll complain of you to your masters, and foreswear your friendship forever. What would my little Kate say were she to learn that I had taken opium-had dreamed like a Musselman, and been happy in such an unchristian way. Away with the balls of Satan. The Evil One with horns and hoofs has prepared them." "He must eat them," cried the Dutchman and Frenchman in chorus, and the Turk grinned more frightfully. In the struggle, for a moment, my senses left me. A shout of triumph from my tormentors called me back to life. "He has swallowed them!" cried they, and released me. In the same moment I saw them sink back upon their cushions, their eyes were fixed, a happy smile expanded their features; they were enjoying the happiness of the theriake, or opium-eater. "He has not swallowed them!" cried I raging, and sprang up. "I closed my mouth and your cursed pills fell into the cushion beside me." I ran out like one possessed. The Turk laughed scornfully after me, and I heard the Frenchman murmur in his sleep-"Vive Henri Quatre!" and the Dutchman groan out his "William Benkels forever!" In the air without I recovered myself. I seemed open to all blissful influences-I was again happy and light-hearted. With what an exquisite display of colors did the sun mirror itself in the Bosphorus! how the domes of the mosques sparkled, as if composed of diamonds and rubies! How brilliant were the streets through which I walked-no, through which I floated. And at this moment I felt myself richer than the richest houses of which I had ever heard. Thus I arrived at a shady forest of dates. Here I sat me down in the overhanging shade of a palm, and gazed toward the west where the sun was setting, and where was the Barbarossa town, with its leaning tower and my charming Kate. CHAPTER II. I carried always with me a costly Turkish pipe, with a long stem of rose-wood. The head I carried in my pocket, carefully wrapped in soft silk; the stem was so contrived that I used it for a cane. Without knowing what I did, whilst my gaze was riveted upon the glorious landscape, and my thoughts were busy with my home, I pushed my cane in among the dry leaves and roots of the palm. Suddenly it was caught by something which attracted my notice, and I tried to draw it out quickly. The costly stem broke, and I looked, half-vexed and halfcurious, to know what had caused the mischief. With difficulty I extricated from the roots of the palm an old leathern purse, the strings of which were tied round another old leathern article. A wondrously joyful sensation stirred in my soul at the sight of these objects. What they were I knew not, and yet they filled me with delight. But when I had cleansed them from the dirt and mud, when I held an old, richly-embroidered purse in my hand, and in the other article recognized a little, pointed cap, then arose from the glowing memories of my childhood the wonderful story of the inexhaustible purse of Fortunatus and his wishing cap. Then all creation beamed around me, and a chorus of voices from the sky seemed to say to me, "Thou art the new Fortunatus. Fortune has favored thee with her most valuable gifts, which have remained so long in the lap of earth, hidden from all mortal eyes." the least change in my worthy person, I stood before the window through whose curtains I could look into Kate's little room. I looked round me; the leaning tower, with its straight brother, were at my back; I was in my native town, the breeze of home stirred around me. Just then Kate stepped into the room. She carried a candle, was negligently dressed, and was humming an air from "Der Freischütz." Was the girl altered, or had my too lively fancy deceived me, and presented to me at a distance as charming, what in reality seemed to me extremely vulgar? Where was the variety of charms that had so excited my love in Constantinople? Where was the airy grace that had surrounded the image of the absent one, as the air of Paradise encircles a Mohammedan houri? Kate was, in truth, no disagreeable-looking girl, but excessively commonplace; she had cheeks as fresh and round as an apple, pretty hair, a la giraffe, eyes whose color was rather undecided, and a form which, although it certainly was not wanting in roundness, did not move with exactly the grace of a dancing-master. I felt my heart grow cold at the sight of her. Heaven knows, my taste must have I laughed aloud like a child. I was firmly convinced that it was all true, and I danced round the palm, with the purse and cap in my hands, like a madman. "What are lotteries, stocks, and Rothschild's speculations in comparison," cried I; "do I wish for a million-I have to use my purse for a day, and my cap serves me better than the swiftest courier." My reason at last returned, and the madman be- become wonderfully refined since I had been sepa came again the prudent, calculating merchant. rated from her; knowledge of mankind and of the world must have sharpened my judgment. I never could love this creature-that was ineffaceably written in my soul. The purse and cap had given me the right to other claims than to be the son-inlaw of the burgomaster of an obscure German vil lage, and to demean myself by selling crêpe de Chine and eau de Cologne. "Make a calculation, and produce an exact facit," said the merchant. I seated myself again, with tolerable composure, at the foot of the palm. I wished calmly to prove the power of the purse, but my hand trembled as I put it into it. My fingers twitched convulsively, the fascination of the noblest of metals | penetrated every nerve, and there, in my hand, before my wondering, blissful gaze, lay a hundred franc piece, with the new stamp, "Louis Philippe, Roi des Français." "O, Heaven! life is still fair," I cried with Schiller's Marquis Posa, and proved the power of my purse again and again, until the lap In an instant I stood in a high vestibule, upon i of my Turkish dress was covered with hundred- marble floor; from the frescoed walls shone the light franc-pieces. of a hundred tapers; the fragrance-laden air of the My eyes feasted upon the treasure, my soul reveled tropics was around me, and silver fountains were in rapture. "Away, away from here, to the fairest of the fair!" I cried, inspired. "Who will dispute with me the possession of the most beautiful woman upon the earth?" playing without in the moonlight. A great mirror opposite reflected my image. I was clad in black, in my finest European suit. I wore the breast-pin with the turquoise and brilliants, which I had bought two years before in Frankfort, and I knew that I was in the palace of the Duke of Silvio Cremonio, in Rio Janeiro, to whose beautiful daughter I was about to be introduced. All this the wonderful cap had arranged and declared to me. Fifty lackeys, in rich livery, flew to my assist ance. Two ushers opened the folding-doors, and at their announcement, "The Marquis della Mostarda !" I stepped into a brilliant saloon. "Prudence, prudence," said the merchant within me. "May not the gold be false, or coined in the devil's mint, and if you attempt to use it destroy your honor and reputation?" I tried it upon the leather of my sandals, and upon a little stone that I carried about with me for the purpose. It was pure Parisian coin. I put up my gold and filled my pockets with it. How blessed was I that I had withstood Van Delpt's and Fleury's entreaties. What was their happiness now-their manna of immortality? Dreams and froth! But I possessed the most desirable, glorious reality—my pockets full of gold, the inexhaustible purse, and the wonderful cap. Ay-the cap-its power must also be proved; I must know if by its art I could be this moment in the date forest on the Bosphorus, and the next in the cherry grove in Frankfort on the Main. In a flash I placed the little thing upon my head and thought of the Barba-pared with this. rossa town, and of the little balcony which looked into Kate's room. What is a royal dispatch in comparison with the cap of Fortunatus? Without inconvenience from the elbows of neighbors, without I was in a maze-the dresses of the ladies, which blazed with diamonds and other precious stones, dazzled me. What was the home-made splendor of my former employers, Steinlein & Son, which I had so often admired in my yearly visit to them, com What was the finery of the richest merchant's daughter compared with the splendor of the ladies of Rio Janeiro. I noticed that my entrance created a sensation. The ladies remained standing, looked a |