fluttered violently with the emotions of young desire, and his eyes sparkled like two bright stars in the firmament of heaven. Mademoiselle glanced her eyes triumphantly round the circle, proud of the conquest she had made. She was almost tired of a life of single blessedness, and much wished for a partner in pharmacy, literature and love; though many heretical persons declared, that they had rather live

"With cheese and garlick in a windmill far, Than feed on cates, and have her talk to them In any summer-house in Christendom."

CHAPTER IX.

"Il sembleroit que la vie est un bien qu'on ne reçoit qu'a la charge de le transmettre, une sort de substitution qui doit passer de race en race, & que quiconque eut un pere est obligé de le devenir."

ROUSSEAU, Julie, Tome vi. pa. 55.

MADEMOISELLE Von Schryven perfectly coincided in the opinion of Rousseau. She was resolved to make every effort to secure the affections of Huyp, and scarcely thought it necessary to remember, that, in all probability, she might meet with a rival. The same fleet that bore Ulysses to the devoted shore of Troy, from hostile Greece, also bore Thersites; and in

love, as in war, victory is ever uncertain. Mademoiselle might have justly claimed a place in the catalogue of Audre da Sylva Mascarenhas, who numbered the women who have become famous for the evils of which they have been the occasion, beginning with Eve, and ending with Anna Boleyn. Were the catalogue to be continued to the present time, how many more might be added to the long list! How many

would be handed down in the black book to posterity!

Fortunately for the present generation, there is no Mascarenhas in existence, to note down their faults and their follies; no sour and cynical St. Simon to record a calumny, which most people love better than a joke, and think satire unentertaining if it be not bitter.

Huyp received an invitation from her to a déjeuné in her boudoir, on the subsequent morning. He accepted it with

pleasure; and proceeded to take his second lesson in the art of love, from the fair Rosalie Von Schryven.

She was engaged in her literary pursuits; motioned Huyp to be seated, and leisurely proceeded to conclude the idea she was subjecting to the science of expansion.

"You shall hear it, sweet love," said Mademoiselle, placing herself in an attitude, which she conceived the best adapted to give effect to her reading : and where she thought there was any thing like point in the verses, she marked the point with her upraised fingers, and gave a pretty accurate display of what, in the play books, is called picture; "and in reading it to you, I give you the greatest proof of my friendship."

THE SPIRIT OF THE STORM.

I'm the son of the wind, and I follow behind,
With swift steps from the sunless shade;
And like lightning fleet, each victim I greet,
With the havoc my pinions have made.
On the vessel that glides o'er the boundless tides,
With her crew in sweet slumbers bound,

I love to alight when the mantle of night,
Falls in silvery vapours around;

And parting her sails with my tempest-wing'd gales,
To new victims of horror I flee,
And laugh at their woe, as I wantonly go
O'er the boundless expanse of the sea.

On many a cloud of its beauty proud,
I triumphantly ride through the air,
And then imprecate the water-fiend's hate,

To crush every hope with despair.

O'er land and o'er water, to wreck and to slaughter,

I flit like the shade of a dream,

And on the sea-shore, 'mid the element's roar,

Woo the spirits of death in the stream;

Then the foamy floods fly, and the water-fiends cry, And the sea-mews in agony scream.

When earth's beauty is lost in the flower-nipping frost,