an hour still passed before the horses came up; but during that time I could obtain no information as to who the old man was. He was a stranger, it seemed, and travelling to see the Chartreuse. Such an object, in travelliug, excited my curiosity of course still more; for seldom, in the class to which he evidently belonged, could be found a person who had ever heard of such a place, much less one who would walk a single mile to see it. When the horses came up, I resumed my journey; and through deep forests, over narrow shelves of rock, amidst the spray and roar of torrents falling from the hills above, we made our way up the wild and tremendous gorge, to the sort of portal, which the monks had built across the mouth of their own valley, to shut themselves out from the rest of the world. This portal consists of a mass of masonry, resting on one side against the rocky wall of the mountain, and on the other overhanging the precipice under which the river flows. The only entrance left was through an archway, closed by a double door; and having passed this barrier, we found ourselves in the valley of La Char treuse. Of course, I do not purpose giving you a description of the valley, or of the monastery. Suffice it, that we saw all that was to be seen; and, in going through the building, I found, standing in one of the eighty cells, the old man whom I had seen at St. Laurent. He did not offer a bad image of one of the old monks, but as I saw he was deeply buried in thought, I did not disturb his reveries. However, shortly after we met him again in another part of the building, and he entered into conversation with us with mild gravity, and pointed out several things as worthy of notice, with which the common cicerone seemed unacquainted. At length, as the day wore on, I took my leave of him, concluding, as he showed no intention of departing, that he was in some way attached to the building. Speeding onward, we began to find the air growing very sultry; and about the time we reached the portal, the strange fantastic heads of some mighty lurid clouds began to tower above the mountains on our left, rolling their dull leaden volumes over the sky. An occasional faint flash of lightning, too, flickered across our path; and before we reached St. Laurent, some large drops of rain fell heavily amongst the dust. I had lived too long in southern climates, not to know what all this portended; and, determining to pass the night at St. Laurent, I entered the little auberge, examined the best bedroom they could give me, ordered almost all, I believe, that the house contained for my dinner, and sat down to watch the progress of the coming storm. It approached but slowly, however; and, being then past seven o'clock, it was dark before the conflict of the elements reached its height. But then, indeed, it became one of the most glorious thunderstorms I ever beheld. The rain came down in torrents; the thunder rolled round the sky in one incessant roar, echoed back to heaven by the rocks and the mountains and the forests; and fervid lightning and profound obscurity succeeded each other every instant, making the air, as it were, a battle-field between the ancient enemies, darkness and light. One moment all was black gloom, through which the keenest eye could distinguish no object on the earth; and the next every thing was full of blazing splendour, with the crags, the hills, and the jagged tops of the pines, clearly defined upon the flashing sky. As I sat and gazed upon it, I heard some one enter the door; and, in a minute after, the old man I had seen at the Chartreuse was ushered into the same little parlour. He was drenched and wearied; and as, by the time that he had hung his coat to the fire in the kitchen, my dinner was upon the 'table, I made him sit down and share it with me. He It were long to relate all our conversation; and it may be enough to say, that I found him a man of good educaI know no tion, and some learning. I situation in which a man's heart so much opens to his fellow, as in a solitary inn like that in which we sat, with comfort and plenty, and good Burgnndy within the house, and the voice of the tempest roaring without. talked of many countries, and of many scenes; and I thought I perceived that my companion spoke French, with an Italian accent. However, we at length began to speak of the building which had been the object of our morning's pilgrimage; and I was not much surprised to find that the old man had been for twenty years a monk in the Chartreuse. It was, of course, before the French Revolution, which had freed him from the cloister; and many an interesting anecdote he gave me of the place and its former inhabitants. Amongst other things, we spoke of the causes which had induced men to embrace the monastic life; and. as we did so, the brow of my companion darkened, as if with some remembered cares; but, after a minute or two, he said, "I will tell you a story attached to one of the monks of that convent. It will, at all events, pass an hour. "In a small city of Italy (the name matters not) there lived two lads, Carlo and Giuseppe, who, in their hours of instruction, and their hours of play, were inseparable friends. They were both noble by birth; but the one was the heir of fortune as well as rank, the other was the only son of a younger brother, who had squandered all he had himself, and lived upon the scanty pittance that his elder brother, who dwelt in Parma, doled out to him. Giuseppe had no mother living; and the lessons he heard from his father's mouth, as well as the example he received from his father's life, were not particularly profitable to him. Carlo, on the contrary, from his mother heard daily fof great deeds and immaculate honour; and the dignity of virtue became the object of his life. Still the two remained great friends, and constant companions; for Giuseppe was not without good natural feelings, and his two greatest faults were reckless carelessness, or rather ignorance, of right and wrong, and a pliability to the will of others, which is the best handmaid to vice. While he was with Carlo, however, he was all virtue; and, though he never led the way to any good thing, he followed willingly. Carlo, therefore, loved him, and really esteemed him; but there was some thing more. Carlo loved Giuseppe's sister, Beatrice. The lads were at this time about sixteen years of age; and Beatrice was a year younger; but there was that in her face that few would look upon without loving She was very beautiful; but perhaps that which made her so lovely, was more the shining out of a heart all soul and feeling and affection, than the symmetry of the lines or the delicacy of the colours. "Carlo's mother did not know that Giuseppe had a sister-for that was the only concealment which her son had ever practised towards her; and she heard of his spending many an hour at the house of his young companion, without fear. But the passion sunk deep into the boy's heart, mingled with every feeling, absorbed every thought, and shared in every remembrance; and the more intensely he loved, the more profoundly he hid it from every one but Beatrice; and she loved him in return. "It was in the year 1770 that Carlo with his mother quitted their dwelling in the town of to return to their His palace in Parma, which was their patri- "At length, one night in a house of no fair repute, in the midst of excited passions, and drunkenness,and avarice, and vice, the father of Giuseppe was killed in a gambling quarrel. His son on the spot avenged his death, and by the next morning was in the public prison, accused of murder. In those days, however, such things were of every-day occurrence in Italy. His innocence of premeditated guilt was made sufficiently clear; and on his liberation, he found that his unclemore from family pride than real kindness-had taken his sister Beatrice to be an inmate of their noble dwelling in Parma. Of himself that uncle took no kind of notice. "Warned by what had passed, Giuseppe formed some good resolutions. He determined to leave off gaming, to take his friend Carlo for his model; and making his way to Parma, to endeavour by his uncle's influence to obtain some command. Unhappily, however, before purposes could become deeds, he met with some of his old associates. He yielded to temptation. Women, wine, and gaming, banished every better feeling, and exhausted every honourable resource. He plunged deeper and deeper into vice; and became a gambler, a beggar, a villain, a desperado. We will follow him no more. Carlo was at Rome at the time that the father of her he loved was slain; and, on returning to Parma, what was his joy to find his Be atrice in the palace of one of the chief nobles of the city, his niece, and his adopted daughter! It were useless to describe the feelings of their hearts. If you have felt the like, you will easily conceive them. If you have not, you would never understand them. "As Giuseppe, however, had not arrived in Parma - though he had written to his sister that he was coming -Carlo set off to seek for him, with a sort of misgiving in regard to his pursuits, which might arise from a knowledge of his weak facility. As he passed through Cremona, he saw a crowd of people in the market-place, hurrying on a man towards one of the public buildings, as if a prisoner newly arrested; and alighting from his carriage, he followed. In answer to his questions, the people who surrounded the court informed him, that it was a stranger from Milan who had taken the purse of one of their citizens during the preceding evening; but what was the surprise of the young nobleman when he entered and saw his friend Giuseppe in the prison. The evidence against him was by no means clear; and the worst feature in his case appeared that he could give no satisfactory account of himself, and knew no one in Cremona to substantiate any thing he said. "The appearance of Carlo, however, changed the aspect of affairs. He was well known in the place-had relations dwelling in the city; and advancing at once to the prisoner, he took him by the hand, and gave such evidence in regard to his character as the enthusiasm of friendship-perhaps I might say the enthusiasm of love suggested. Giuseppe was liberated at once. The citizen, who had suffered retired murmuring to his house; and the two friends proceeded to the inn. Before night, Giuseppe made an excuse to leave his companion for a short time, but he never returned; and four strangers were seen to ride out of Cremona, and take their way towards Venice. "Giuseppe had quitted his friend at the inn with the best intentions-to quit his evil habits, to abandon his base associates; but they had twined round him a thousand serpent folds, and they suffered him not ever again to breathe the same atmosphere with any thing that was good. "Carlo returned to Parma; and, concealing the fears and suspicions which his mind could not but entertain, he refrained from telling Beatrice that which had passed at Cremona. At the same time, with the consent of all parties, he became an avowed suitor for her hand; and it is needless to say how his suit was received. A new world had opened upon poor Beatrice. From poverty and apprehension, and the painful spectacle of a father's vices, she was now removed to the rank she was fitted to adorn honoured, ad-. mired, and loved; with present comfort and security, and the prospect of a speedy union with him whom her heart had chosen in the midst of its darkest days, and whom she would still have picked out from all the gay, the noble, and bright, that now surround her. "Love spread its sunshine over all the world; and she would have been more happy had she been better assured of the fate of her brother. "It was not, indeed, that occasional uncomforts did not cross her path; but they were trifles. Several of the young gallants of the place would persist in suing for her hand; and one proud man, who thought himself insulted by her rejection, seemed resolved to punish her by urging his pretensions, and terrifying her continually by secret menaces both in regard to her lover and to herself. At first she deemed him insane; but, on enquiry, she found that he was noted for many vices, and suspected of many crimes; and she would have felt seriously alarmed, if she had not had strong proof that his heart was as timid as it was base, by the manner in which he shrunk away whenever Carlo himself appeared. "Their marriage was appointed for the ensuing winter, when her lover would have attained his twentieth year; and one bright autumn evening, while it was still as warm as summer, her aunt, the Marchesa, took her out beyond the gates to the palace Giardino, and with a considerate kindness, which the old do not always show the young, left her to walk with her lover alone upon the terrace. There were a number of groups in the gardens, enjoying like themselves the wide prospect, with its splendid light and shade, as the declining sun each moment changed the shadows and varied the hues. But Carlo and Beatrice saw it through the bright medium of their own feelings; and the happiness of their own hearts poured over the scene a warmer sunshine and a richer glow. When the sun at length just rested on the far horizon, the lovers descended the steps to rejoin the Marchesa; and Carlo, as hè led Beatrice towards the carriage, poured forth those low fervent vows which were dear to her ear, though unnecessary to her confidence. He vowed to be her's till death-ay, and after death. She chided him for the name of death; but he only smiled, and having placed her in the carriage, he sprang upon his horse, and followed towards the city. At the corner of Pilota, near the palace square, he dismounted, gave his horse to a servant, added a few directions and a message to his mother, and walked on towards the dwelling of her he loved. He had but a few steps to go. Two servants were standing at the portal of the house waiting his coming, which they knew would not be long after the carriage they had just admitted. Though he seemed musing deeply, he walked fast, came up with two other men who were proceeding in the same direction, and was passing them, when, at that moment, the one exclaimed to the other, Basta! Basta! Eccolo ! "The two servants then saw one of the strangers who was nearest to the young nobleman raise his hand, some thing glittered in it like steel-it descended, and Carlo reeled and fell back upon the pavement. Guiseppe!' he exclaimed, as he fell. The other stooped down; and, gazing on his face, seemed turned into marble. "At that moment the two servants rushed forward; and, while one raised the dying man, the other endeavoured to seize the assassin; but the grasp recalled him to thought; and, in a struggle which ensued, he escaped with only a cut upon his brow. Carlo was borne into the hall, and in an instant Beatrice was by his side. She called him by his name; but he was silent. They brought lights; but there was a veil over his eye which no light could pierce. Beatrice neither shricked nor tore her hair-nor did she weep: and they removed her easily and in silence from the body. But the next morning she was not found in her room; and those who came to adorn the murdered man for the grave, discovered his promised bride kneeling by his side his hand was clasped in her's-her head had fallen forward on his bosom, and she was ready to lie beside her husband in the grave." "And what became of Giuseppe ?" I exclaimed. "He committed no more crimes," replied the old man; not even that of slaying himself. The horrors of all he had done seemed to rush upon him at once. Then, for the first time in his existence, he appeared to feel and to reflect. Flying like lightning from the city, he sought the Chartreuse, which is about a mile distant from it. His birth, his crime, his despair, were all told. Much could then be done for gold; and his uncle would willingly have laid down any sum to bury the shame of his family in the cloister. The base wretch who, for the love of his sister, had hired the unhappy man, unknowingly, to murder his best friend, was forced, by the whisper of suspicion, to quit the city; and the wretched Giuseppe, abandoning the world for ever, was transferred from Parma to this valley, where, in the cells which you saw this morning, he wept for twenty years the errors and the crimes of his youth." "I looked up to the brow of the old man, on which there was a deep scar. He remarked the motion of my eyes, and a quick flush came over his cheek, followed by a sigh. "You are told," he said, "that the mercy of God is sufficient for all who truly repent." "Doubt it not," I replied, and the conversation dropped." Edin. Lit. Jour. MINCE PIES. For the Olio. Hail Christmas! time of mirth and glee, And fun, Come thou, and feast my longing eyes And my sand's run; "Is there a soul on earth so dead," who has not often thought with delight, and felt his heart warm within him at the recollection of the merry times and glorious feastings he enjoyed when a boy, at the arrival of good old Christmas;-how the months, weeks, and days were counted, until that happy season came, and what sublime anticipations and expectations were formed of the forthcoming pleasure. I remember it all, and the rumbling vehicle that used to take us a few days before the time from school to our homes, one of the old fashioned long coaches, shaped something like a hearse, in which people sat face to face in two lines, as contented with mince pies as they now are made; truly, they are still very good, though truth obliges me to declare my grandmother's were better ;— to those persons I wish all the pleasure I have derived from that source, and every other enjoyment peculiar to this season; and as I hate selfishness, let me beg of those who have not tasted this relic of the good old times, instantly to procure one, large as their pockets can afford; call in their friends, for Those who joy would win, Must share it happiness was born a twin And when they have eaten it, if they do not exclaim, "there's nothing on earth like a good mince pie," put me down for a pretender, who knows nothing of the art of living well. J. S. C. DO I REMEMBER IT?+ Do I remember it?—Oh, how could I if preparing for a country dance; sure never was a coach so loaded with merry boys and mischief; but of all the delights of the Christmas holidays, none ever equalled the pleasure I derived from devouring (I can't say eating) the nice mince pies which used to be prepared for us. I do verily believe I have the taste of them now on my lips, and should I live to be a hundred (my grandmother was ninety-six when she died) never will their goodness be effaced from my memory. But mince pies, like every thing else, have degenerated since that time; we have them now, though what are they compared with those made by my grandmother-nothing, poor soul! could she only lift up her head from the grave, where it has so many years rested, and taste the mince pies of this age, she would not know them to be such, if some kind being did not inform her what they were intended for. I had often puzzled myself to account for this falling off, and resolved, if possible, to restore the mince pie to its original excellence. I caused every ingredient to be procured from the best market; the greatest care to be taken in mixing the quantities according to the directions contained in page 228 of my grandmother's "family receipt book," and the most experienced of all her pupils-my mother, made them-'twas to no purpose. How then was it, you will ask, that this affair was not accomplished, and a mince pie made to equal those of days of yore. I often asked the same question; at last, we recollected my grandmother always used to keep a bottle of good old Nantz-the genuine, pure, and unmixed article; no exciseman's gauging To wind around the soul of him she loves. rod ever defiled it, nor dealer adulterated its quality-'twas some of the best Moonshine that could be procured for love or money, and came direct from over the water; and its flavour-its flavour was as luscious as the grape from which it derived its quality and goodness. Alas! the time for this is past, and so is the age for mince pies; but never can I forget the pleasure with which I used to make them vanish from the table when a boy ;-no magician's wand could have caused a quicker disappear ance; and the kind face that looked over me while I did the business-that too is gone, never more to glad the eyes of her friends. Though this work of times gone by is still fresh in my memory, many who have not been so fortunate, may be Forget that time, the hour when first we met, Didst thou not solace then the gloomy hour? Bring back old times, and chase it far away? While thy endearments bound thee to my heart By every tie which woman so well knows, J. S. C. TALES OF THE BUREAU DE THE GAMESTER'S FATE. "I AM almost frozen to death, and my limbs will soon refuse their office. Oh, Sir! for the love of heaven, bestow your charity, if it be the smallest pittance, in pity's sake, Sir, I beseech you. of the speaker so different from the There was something in the voice husky half-cracked tone of the midnight mendicant that I turned to look at the object so imploring for charity. It was a poor half-clad female shiver In reply to Miss Landon's piece in one of the annuals- Do you remember it?" |