and his favourite occupation of painting, in which accomplishment but few professed artists were superior to him. Unhappily for him, his love, instead of being weakened by change of scene and constant occupation, gained even a stronger hold upon him but he was the confident of Cosmo's hopes, and every honourable consideration induced him, at least for the present, to keep his own thoughts secret. Sometimes he fancied that Cosmo's love might be but a passing thought, and that the fancy might pass away: then, that circumstances might arise when he, who was now known and complimented as one of the most promising and pleasing poets of the day, might proudly place his laurel crown at the feet of her who had been as his loadstar. Thoughts such as these would sometimes, and almost without his consciousness, force themselves upon him, and shed a ray of sunshine over his sad heart.

At length our two friends again met, to reside in their native city, and the happy intercourse of early days was renewed.

Soon after Cosmo's return to Bologna, an event happened which placed him in an unexpected position: Lorenzo was not unmoved by it. The only son of the elder branch of the family fell a victim to a fever, just as he was about to espouse one of the wealthiest heiresses of Bologna. This occurrence totally changed the condition and prospects of Cosmo. After the death of his father, who was very infirm, he was the next in succession. He therefore was withdrawn from the profession to which he had dedicated himself, and was at once recognised as the heir of one of the oldest families of Bologna.

Lorenzo had but one secret which he kept from his friendand that was his love. He never had indulged any hope: that was quenched almost before he had owned to himself that he loved; but still there was a solace in his fate being

undefined-remote. He now saw how much more openly Cosmo could press his suit if, as he always professed, his affections were still true to their first object; and he felt, despairingly, how little chance there was that such a suitor would be unfavourably received.

One day Cosmo came to him in a state of great excitement, and told him he had had high words both with his uncle and his father. Lorenzo, struck with the change in his manner and appearance, anxiously inquired what was the cause of the misunderstanding, and the reader may imagine the feelings with which he heard Cosmo's explanation. It appeared the heads of the respective families had had a meeting, and, without at all consulting Cosmo, whose acquiescence was taken for granted, they had mutually agreed that, when a proper time had elapsed, the intended bride of his late cousin should be given in marriage to him; by which ingenious arrangement the immense fortune of the heiress would still enrich the poorer house, of which Cosmo would, in due time, be the chief.

Lorenzo listened with breathless attention.

Cosmo proceeded to tell his friend of the risk he incurred by his refusal to be dictated to upon such a subject; and added that he had parted with his relations in anger. His uncle had threatened to divert, if possible, the inheritance; and he had also been warned by them that his refusal to fulfil their contract would bring upon him and them the enmity of the lady's family, one of the most powerful in Italy. He earnestly begged Lorenzo to advise and console him.

Lorenzo perceived the difficulty in which his friend was placed. At the same time, he saw the precipice on which he himself was standing. By advising Cosmo to offer his hand where he already had given his heart, he should be counselling

him to take a step that probably would ruin his fortune. If, on the other hand, he urged him to obey the wishes of his family, he saw he was open to. the suspicion-of his own heart at least-of being influenced in his judgment by the hope of advancing his own dearest interests. The perspiration stood in large drops on his forehead. Cosmo suddenly relieved him from the painful difficulty of offering any opinion, by declaring that upon such a subject he ought not to ask the advice of any one-there was but one course, he said, for him, as a man of honour, to pursue.

He sought his father, and declared that he had come to the resolution not to marry where he did not love; and that he should propose to a lady to whom he had long been attached. He had to submit to the opposition, the anger, the reproaches, of his family: but he bore them all patiently for the sake of her he loved. All Bologna-excepting the younger ladies, who admired him for his constancy—thought him stark staring mad, to allow so splendid a fortune as that offered to him, to escape from his grasp. He did not care very much for this. He made his proposals, was accepted, and, in due time, married his first love.

Not very long after this, he received a letter from Lorenzo, requesting him to take charge of some books and valuables till he should reclaim them. Among them was a case particularly addressed, with a request that it should not be opened but in the event of his death. Cosmo, at a loss to know what this could mean, hastened to the residence of his friend. He could only learn that Lorenzo had left Bologna two days, and no one knew whither he was gone.

At this time the illustrious Spinola was commanding the armies of Spain in the wars of the Low Countries. Lorenzo had repaired to this scene of excitement; and distinguished himself, as a volunteer, by the most reckless and daring

bravery. He soon received a command, and took a prominent post in every enterprise in which he could signalize himself. Foremost on every occasion of danger, and apparently seeking death-he at last fell at the celebrated siege of Breda.

A fellow-countryman, who was with him in his last moments, undertook to convey to Cosmo a packet containing a miniature, which the young soldier had long worn round his neck. Cosmo recognised in it the portrait of the beautiful girl who assisted at the ceremony in the chapel of the Convent of the Annunziata. Upon opening the case before referred to, it was found to contain a picture of a young lady—the features the counterpart of the miniature. The truth flashed upon Cosmo: the poet, the lover, the friend, had poured out his soul in art. His pencil had given a species of immortality to his beloved; and her sweet image was there pourtrayed by his hand to receive the homage of future ages, when she, and all who knew and loved her, would be gone by and forgotten.

The case was carefully closed up again; and for many years no one knew what it contained. At length Cosmo, a widower, had it brought to him. The picture was taken out and placed in his private cabinet. It is the picture alluded to. How it came into the possession of its present proprietor is not known.

"He who observes it-ere he passes on,
Gazes his fill, and comes and comes again,
That he may call it up, when far away."

LINES.

BY BARRY CORNWALL.

I.

OUT in the savage mountains-
Down in the Khyber pass,
Women and men, and babes at breast,
Are mown down like the grass:
From the dawn until the night,

From the night until the dawn,

Nothing is heard but Death, and curses
From the wild Affgháun.

II.

They toil through the swampy rivers,
They struggle amidst the snow,
But wherever they turn a bullet rings,
And a brave man lieth low.

In vain the captain cheereth;

The soldier he fights in vain;

By one-and one-a thousand hearts
Pour out the red red rain.

11.

Oh ! many will mourn in India,
The close of this deadly day:

Even now there was dread and trembling hearts
From Delhi to proud Bombay.