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had been accustomed to do. Let him rise ever so early, he saw them in the fields; and if he was returning home, they were sure to meet him. Sometimes they shewed him a flower produced by Bridget's needle; sometimes they wanted him to hear a bull-finch sing a song which Louisa had taught him, and at others a parrot, which repeated with wonderful distinctness the words :-" Love me, Conradine, Conradine! Love me Conradine, Conradine!" On another occasion, perhaps, he had to comfort Gertrude, who pretended to weep the loss of her ranunculuses; and he always found the amiable girls in a charming dress, or in a still more charming dishabille. He could not behold them without emotion; we should do injustice to his character to assert that he did. So much beauty, so much loveliness made an impression upon him; but he was unable to come to any determination. There were five sisters, and all equally beautiful; he retired wounded by each of them, and at the same time he was proud. Had he actually loved, he would never have been the first to acknow. ledge it, and it would have been highly imprudent, on the other hand, in any female to shew a passion for him he would have reduced her to a kind of servitude, for his sentiments, in regard to women, were nearly of the Oriental stamp.


Meanwhile an alteration took place from day to day in Conradine. He absented himself less and less, and for shorter intervals. Not a word escaped him, but whatever he did was fraught with expression. The young ladies had too much discernment not to know what all this signified.—" At length," said Louisa, "the man grows tame; but which of us will he chuse? Or rather which of us would wish to engage his affections? "I," said Euphrosyne, “I!"—" Very well," rejoined Bridget, "be it so." We must come less into his sight; and must gradually lead him to think only of Euphrosyne. He must see none but her; we must speak only of her when he sees us; he will thus at last be obliged to distinguish her.

when she spoke to him in public, to omit the title of your lordship, and merely called him Conradine. The first time she made use of this appellation, Conradine reddened with indignation, and made no reply. Every one imagined, for several days, that Euphrosyne had lost his favour, and she was herself of the same opinion. But Conradine, however indignant he might be, soon became accustomed to this familiar mode of address. This step being taken, she now ventured upon another. Conradine left her to dismount from her horse without assistance, and one of his esquires gave her his hand. "What a shame it is," said she to him one day, "that a Knight like you should have so little gallantry. Alight, and give me your hand without glove; in future I will have no other esquire than you." Conradine cast an angry look at Euphrosyne, who had chosen a moment when he was surrounded by a numerous retinue to utter this disagreeable injunction. "No hesitation," resumed she; "I insist on your compliance." These words she uttered with such grace, and all his attendants thought her so charming, that Conradine was obliged to dismount, and to give her his hand. He even attempted to kiss hers. "No, no;" said the spirited damsel, drawing it away; "you did not obey me so cheerfully as you ought to have done another time perhaps, I may permit you."-"I have caught him," said she to her sisters as soon as she saw them, and acquainted them with the new step which she had ventured to take. "That was right!" they all exclaimed, and indulged the same hopes as she herself cherished.

Next morning Conradine, who had awoke earlier than usual, sent to inform Euphrosyne that he was going out a hunting. She returned for answer, that she should not accompany him. Conradine sent again, and directed the messenger to enquire if she were unwell. She rejoined that she was well, but had no inclination to join in the chace that day. "And why?" enquired Conradine. "Because I don't chuse it," was the reply.

Conradine accordingly rode out alone, but the whole day he was in an ill humour. He returned sooner than usual, found fault with every body; ordered a peasant, who had not made sufficient haste to salute him, into confinement, as well as another who had not

From this time Conradine had fewer opportunities of seeing the other four sisters. He met none but Euphrosyne, and by degrees he forgot all the rest. She manifested a partiality for hunting, and he permitted her to bear him company. As he was passionately fond of riding, Euphrosyne affected a strong predilec-addressed him with the title of your lordship. tion for that exercise. She managed her horse with extraordinary address, and in riding races with Conradine she often reached the goal before him. In order to ascertain the extent of her influence over him, she began, No. XLI. Vol. VI.

Euphrosyne heard of these acts of severity. and immediately wrote to him as follows :—“ I intreat you to set at liberty your two vassals, whom, out of pride, you have thrown into confinement. Are your dominions for ever to C

Euphrosyne. 'Tis very polite of you to tell me so. Upon my word this is quite a new language.

Conradine. It is certainly quite new!
Euphrosyne. It might almost be called love.
Conradine. Whatever you please.

Euphrosyne. In that case it would be a declaration of love, and is this a fit attire to make it in, clad in mail, with a lance in your hand and a sword by your side! Are you a sovereign, a conqueror?

remain the theatre of violence and slavery?" Conradine, on reading this note, was highly exasperated, and paced the room with hasty steps. At length, however, he complied with Euphrosyne's request. On this she proceeded still farther. She ordered all the gates and barriers to be demolished, and allowed every person access at all hours to Conradine; so that the petty tyrant who had formerly been invisible, was now exposed to public view, and his vassals came in crowds, when he was at table, to see and to bless him. Euphrosyne prevailed upon him so far that he would speak first to his esquires and the principal officers of his household, though he did it in the begin- || his broad sword no longer hung by his side. ning with a very ill grace. He had not yet uttered a syllable that could convey an idea of love; and not a word which could bear that interpretation had escaped Euphrosyne. however was determined to entice from him an acknowledgement of his passion, rather from self-love than from any other motive. For this an opportunity soon occurred.


Several neighbouring Lords had united their forces with a view to take from Conradine Frejus and Riez, together with all his possessions on the sea-coast. This circumstance obliged him to assemble his vassals; and in a short time he had collected a formidable army. He determined to put himself at its head, and made arrangements for his departure. He had not yet prepared Euphrosyne for this separation, and it was then that she expected to compass her point.

Conradine. Any thing, any thing you please. He took off his helmet and coat of mail; the lance had already dropped from his hand, and

Conradine. Will that do? Am I now as I ought to be?

Euphrosyne. No, not yet.

Conradine. Not yet?

Euphrosyne. You are too far from me, and then your attitude! You are too tall when you stand. I am obliged to look up too high

at you.

Conradine. Is that right? (dropping on one knee.)

Euphrosyne. Yes, that is right. Now you may speak. What have you to say to me?

Conradine. Nothing more. I feel. Here, read this letter, by which I appoint you regent in my absence. IfI fall in battie all that I possess will be yours, and your father's possessions will revert to your sisters. Farewel.

Euphrosyne expressed her thanks in the warmest terms. Conradine departed, and sigh

"I am going to leave you," said he to her ed as he withdrew. abruptly.

The charming sisters were now regents, and

Euphrosyne. I think I might have been in-nothing was heard in the castle but the sounds formed of it sooner.

Conrauline, I am going to fight my enemies; perhaps I shall fall in battle. Heirs I have none, neither is there any thing in the world that I love.

of mirth and festivity. Troubadours and minstrels were welcome guests; balls and cours d'amour alternately succceeded each other. Wit, merriment and conviviality took the place of the former ridiculous etiquette. Without enacting laws they knew how to establish a embar-happy medium between that familiarity which

Euphrosyne. What! nothing at all? Conradine. I think at least (with some rassment) that I shall not leave behind a creature that will regret me

Euphrosyne. Are you sure of that? Conradine. I mean to say that will regret me as much as you.

Euphrosyne. How so? Who could tell you


Conradine. I don't know; but I must confess that you are the only person in whose society I took any pleasure, I have found something in you, though I know not myself (laying his hand involuntarily upon his heart). 1 feel-Ah Euphrosyne, you are so fascinating! Euphrosyne. Do you think so? Conradine. Indeed I do.

lessens respect, and abject servility. The subjects learned their duty, which they fulfilled with pleasure; they addressed their fair mistresses without constraint and yet with reverence. The report of this pleasing change extended their fame to distant countries. Young Knights thronged to see them; these five sisters were worthy of their homage. Euphrosyne was content to preside over their diversions and sports; the others went farther, and none of them had reason to be dissatisfied with her lot.

About this time the Countess de Martiques arrived at the court of Conradine. She came to make him an offer of her daughter's hand.

All these circumstances were eagerly col

Her mortification on finding that she was too || late, gradually produced a secret resolution|lected by the vindictive Countess, who wrote

Conradine a long account of all that passed. Conradine was naturally hasty and impetuous; he moreover hated the young Baron, and swore that both the culprits should die. He sent for his physician.-" Doctor,” said he, “you must revenge me.”—“ And on whom?”—“ On

to be revenged on Euphrosyne. Not long before the young Baron de Bormes had likewise arrived at the castle as Conradine's prisoner; and, on his word of honour, Euphrosyne had granted him liberty, on condition of his not leaving the town. Out of gratitude the young || Knight paid her particular attention, and she || Euphrosyne and the Baron de Bromes. I am had too much good sense to take this amiss; betrayed and dishonoured; go and administer she laughed with her sisters on the subject, a slow poison that may afford me the satisfac and gave him no other appellation than that tion of witnessing their death on my return of the little prisoner. At last he never quitted || home." Having received this injunction, the her side; he had become her esquire, and was physician departed. even once surprized stealing a kiss of her fair [To be continued.] hand.




The following story introduces a ghost as a spirit of actual existence, and as such may perhaps offend the taste of the enlightened reader; but as a German legend, and a narrative of popular superstition abroad, it may not be unentertaining.

On the banks of a small river, in a province dry up the milk of the cows, and fijt about the of Germany, is situated the castle of Lauren-horses; in short, both men and beasts were stein, which was formerly a nunnery, and de- kept in a state of affright from the annoyance stroyed in the thirty years' war. The holy do- of the spirits. main passed as a derelict property into the hands of the laity, and was let by the Count of Orlamuuda, the former lord of the manor, to one of his vassals, who built a castle on the ruins of the cloister, to which he gave his own name; he was called lord of Laurenstein. The event soon proved to him that church property never prospers in the hands of laymen, and that sacrilege, however clandestinely committed, will always meet punishment in the end.

The bones of the deceased nuns were roused from their peaceful abode; rattling noises perpetually disturbed the tranquillity of the family. Processions of nuns with flaming images were seen passing to and fro, opening and shutting the doors; they would often follow the servants into the stables and different apartments of the castle, pinching them, nodding at them, and tormenting them with frightful noises. The terror and dismay which these disturbances produced spread among all the domestics; nor was the lord himself proof against this host of spirits. The resentment of the nuus did not confine itself to these outrages; they would likewise attack the cattle,

The lord of the manor spared no expence to obtain by exorcisms a cessation of the tumults; but the most powerful enchantments, before which the whole empire used to tremble, had no effect on these Amazonian spectres, who defended their claim to the property of the castle so firmly, that the exorcists with their holy vessels and relics were sometimes obliged to quit the field.

There was a certain famous man of the name of Gessner, who travelled about the country to lay spirits, and redress the injuries which their nocturnal revels had produced. To him was assigned the task of reducing these trouble some visitors to obedience, and confining them again in the gloomy regions of death, where they might rell their skulls and rattle their bones without molestation.

Tranquillity was now restored in the castle. The nuns now slept again, but after the period of seven years, a restless spirit of the sisterhood made her appearance in the night, renewed the former disturbances till she was weary, then having rested another seven years, repeated her visits. The family in course of

time began to be habituated to her appearance at stated periods, and left the apartments whenever that happened.

Upon the decease of the first possessor the inheritance devolved by a regular succession into the hands of the male eir, which did not fail till the thirty years' war, when the last branch of the Laurenstein fami'y flourished, in whose formation nature seemed to have exhausted all her powers. She had so prodigally Javished her qualities upon him that when he arrived at the years of maturity his corpulence and weight almost equalled that of the famous Irish giant; at the same time the young lord, Sigismund, to rusticated manners united an uncommon share of pride; he was determined to enjoy life, while he carefully avoided every extravagance which might diminish the paternal estate that had been hoarded up by parsimony.

After the example of his ancestors be fixed upon a wife, as soon as his parents were des ceased; and began to look forward with pleasure to the prospect of an heir to his estate. In this, however, he was disappointed, for the wished for boy proved a girl. He afterwards sought no other enjoyments but that of eating, so that all the hopes of a male successor were buried in his corpulence. His wife, who from the beginning bad the management of the family, fixed all her affections on her daughter, and left her husband to revel in his sensual indulgencies, till at last he regarded nothing but the luxuries of the table. The education of Emily was entrusted to the care of her mo

ther, who spared no pains in adorning her person and cultivating her understanding.

In proportion as the charms of her fair Emily began to expand, her views were extendcd, and her hopes flattered with the prospect of seeing her daughter the ornament of her family; she indulged a latent pride, which consisted in an extravagant attachment to her pedigree.

No family in all Vogtland were in her opi nion of sufficient antiquity and noble birth to be allied to the last branch of the Laurenstein family; when, therefore, the youths of the neighbourhood were eager to pay their respects to this young lady, whose affections they wished to gain, the cautious mother gave them such reception as effectually put a stop to any further intercourse. She likewise carefully guarded the heart of Emily against what she called smuggled goods, and railed greatly against the speculatious of cousins and aunts who busied themselves in forming matrimonial connections. This had the desired effect upon


the daughter, who united with her mother in rejecting every offer.

As long as the heart of a young female yields to instruction, it may be compared to a small boat in the ocean, which suffers itself to be steered wherever the rudder gaides it, but when the wind rises and the waves toss the bark to and fro, it regards no longer the rudder, but yields to the violence of the winds and the dashing of the waters. Thus the docile Ewily submitted to the guidance of maternal instruction, and walked with chearfulness in the path of pride; the heart was yet untainted with guile. She expected some prince or count to do homage to her charms, and treated every inferior person with contempt truly gratifying

to her mother.

Before a suitable successor could be found for the Laurenstein estate, a circumstance happened to frustrate the views of the mother, and proved that all the princes and counts in the Roman empire would have come too late to gain the heart of Emily.

During the disturbances of the thirty years' war, the army of the brave Wallenstein took up its winter quarters in Vogtland; and Sigis mund received many uninvited guests, who committed more outrages in the castle than the former pocturnal visitors; if they did not lay claim to it as their just pro erty in the same manner as the latter, neither did they suffer themselves to be expelled by exorcists.

Entertainments and balls succeeded each other without intermission; the former were superintended by Madame Sigismund, and the latter hospitality with which they were treated, and by Emily. The officers were pleased at the their host with the good temper and respect with which they returned it.

sonal attractions; one, however, who was Among them were many who had great percalled Frederic, eclipsed the rest. To a fine form he united insinuating manners; he was gentle, modest, agreeable, lively, aud an accomplished dancer. No man had yet made an impression upon the heart of Emily, but she could not resist these fascinations when united to a red coat. Her heart became susceptible of feelings of which she was not at first conscious, and they filled her soul with an inexpressible pleasure. The only circumstance that surprized her was, that such attractions could be found in a person who was neither a prince nor a count.

Upon a nearer acquaintance she frequently questioned his companions respecting his family and prospects; but no one could give her any satisfaction on a subject which occupied all her thoughts; every one praised him as a

brave and amiable man, but his pedigree seemed to be buried in perfect oblivion.

The secret enquiries of the anxious Emily did not remain long concealed from him. His friends thought to flatter him with this information, aud accompanied it with many favourable conjectures. His modesty would not permit him to consider this any thing but a joke; at the same time he felt a secret pleasure in supposing himself the subject of a young lady's thoughts, who was by no means indifferent to him; the first view of her had excited in him an enthusiasm which is the precursor of love.

No words are so forcible or intelligent as the looks which declare the sympathy of a tender attachment. A verbal explanation did not take place for some time, but both parties could divine each other's thoughts; their countenances declared what the bashfulness of love forbade them to utter.

The unsuspecting mother was now so immersed in the care of providing for her guests, that she had not leisure to guard with her usual diligence the avenues to the heart of Emily. Frederic perceiving this did not fail to turn it to his advantage, by insinuating himself in her favour. As soon as he had gained her confidence he gave her very different instructions from those she had received from her mother. As he was the avowed enemy of distinctions, his care was to free the mind of Emily from the prejudices she had received upon this subject; teaching her that birth and rank must not be put in competition with the softest and most pleasing passion.

The enamoured Emily suffered ber pride to fall before her attachment, and excused in her lover the want of nobility and titles; she even carried her political heresy so far as to conceive that the prerogatives of birth, with regard to love, were a yoke which human freedom should be permitted to shake off.

The affections of Frederic were now fixed on her, and from every circumstance he was satisfied that his love would meet an ample return. He sought therefore an opportunity to open to her the state of his heart. She received his professions with blushes, but with real pleasure; and their confiding souls were united by mutual vows of inviolable fidelity. They were now happy for the present instaut, but shuddered at their future prospects. The return of the spring recalled the army to the field, and the melancholy period in which the lovers were to part quickly approached.

Consultations were now begun to determine how an intercourse might be kept up between the two lovers, who resolved that nothing but

| death should separate them. Emily inforined him of her mother's sentiments on the choice of a husband for her, and the improbability that her pride would yield in a single point to affection.


An hundred schemes were alternately fixed upon and rejected, as the difficulties of each preponderated in their minds. When the young warrior perceived the wi linguess of his mistress to embrace any plan that would contribute to the completion of his wishes, he proposed an elopement as the securest method which love ever suggested, and by means of which it had often succeeded in frustrating the views of parsimonious pride. Emily, after a little reflection, consented. The only subject of consideration was the method of escaping from the strongly guarded castle, and the scrutinizing vigilance of her mother, which would be redoubled upon the departure of Wallenstein's army.

But the inventions of love surmount every obstacle. Emily was well acquainted with the periodical visits of the spirits, and that on AflSaints day in the ensuing autumn, when sevea years would have elapsed since their last appearance, they were expected to be renewed. The terror of all the inhabitants she knew to be great on these occasions, which suggested a notion of the possibility of passing for one of the ghosts. For this purpose she proposed to keep a nun's dress in readiness for herself, and under this disguise to make her escape. Frederic was enchanted at the happy thought; although at the time of the thirty years' war, that infidelity, which in its rebellion against the Supreme Being, has been the scourge of all Europe, was but in its infancy, yet the young hero was philosopher enough to disbelieve the existence of ghosts, or at least to deny their interference with human affairs.-" Ghosts, my Emily," said he, are enemies to avarice, to tyranny, and to vice, but they cannot be otherwise than propitious to love. Those nuns who haunt the castle will not interrupt the escape of lovers; besides, my dear, there is an exorcism in a pretty face, and a spiritual enchantment in a soldier's jacket, which will prove as powerful as any cabala or crucifix."

When every thing was prepared for his departure Frederic mounted his horse, committed himself to the protection of fortune, and put himself at the head of his squadron. The campaign terminated fortunately for him; love seemed to have listened to his prayers and taken him under his protection.

In the mean time Emily, who was alternately agitated with hope and fear, trembled for the life of her faithful Amadis, and took

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