and useless article, a gift of the sovereign! No; sooner than make a similar avowal he would cast himself into the Danube. This was the counsel which his evil genius whispered to him; but Herr Weissberg was too good a Catholic to listen to the voice of the tempter. So, after long hesitation, after rambling up and down the Bourgplatz, for a length of time, after having even mounted and descended the very stairs of the palace in an agony of doubt and uncertainty, the architect screwed his courage to the sticking place; with a resolute step he traversed the corridors, and entered at length the apartment in which the Emperor was seated. "Mercy, mercy!" cried the old man, in a voice rendered almost inarticulate through emotion, falling at the feet of the emperor. 66 Why, what has happened to you now?" inquired Francis 11., leaning forward to assist him to rise. "No, no!" continued the architect, joining his hands together in an attitude of supplication, "I am a miserable wretch, unworthy of the high favour you accord me. I must remain in this position until I have obtained your pardon for my fault." 66 Well, I pardon you," said Francis, more than ever convinced of the mental derangement of his favourite architect; "but, for heaven's sake, tell me what fault you have committed, and do clear up at once the mystery of your conduct of this morning.” Hereupon the architect, reassured by the affectionate words of his sovereign, informed him of the use to which he had put the imperial chapeau; of its abandonment to the two soldiers, of the hospitality afforded to it by the surgeon of cuirassiers, of his endeavour to regain possession of it from Leopold, and of the ill-success of his attempt. "So this, then, is the great mystery?" said the emperor, with a smile; "you have given my hat to a domestic; most assuredly, I by no means approve of this action; it is neither honourable nor worthy of a man whom I admit into my confidence. But still, there was no occasion for you to have acted in the extraordinary manner you did; nor was there any reason why you should have upset a breakfast service of china, presented to me by my faithful subjects at Rosann. This surgeon of the third regiment of Cuirassiers has shown you a beautiful example of that respect which one attaches even to the most trifling, and apparently insignificant object. It is a gift of the sovereign. You call him Leopold Spieldorf? This name is not unknown to me; it is that of a faithful servant, a man at once honest, clever, and modest-three qualities rarely met with in the same individual. Let some one instantly seek Herr Leopold Spieldorf, surgeon of the third cuirassiers," continued the emperor, addressing General Lederer; "I should be glad to learn from his own lips the motives which have induced him to refuse your request." Some few minutes after the order of Francis the Second had been transmitted to the aid-de-camp on duty, Leopold was introduced into the presence of the emperor. "Herr Spieldorf," began the emperor, in a mild tone of voice, "why have you refused to restore to Herr Weissberg the hat which he claimed at your hands?" 66 Sire," replied Leopold, "I shall answer you frankly; two motives have guided me in this circumstance; the first was the desire which I experienced to preserve an object which had once belonged to your Majesty." "And the second?" demanded Francis. "The second," replied Leopold, "was the persuasion under which I was, that Herr Weissberg, by avowing to your Majesty. the use he had made of your hat, would lose your Majesty's esteem." "This motive was scarcely a Christian one," said the Emperor, in a tone of severe displeasure, fixing his eyes as he spoke upon the countenance of the surgeon. "What reasons have you, sir, for desiring that I should withdraw my esteem and support from Herr Weissberg?" In a few words, Leopold related to Francis II. the history of his love, the proposal he had made in the morning, and the repeated refusals he had met with from the architect. "I understand all now," said the Emperor, whose voice had again assumed the gentle and affectionate intonation habitual to it. "I can also understand the motives which have induced Herr Weissberg to repel your advances. You are poor, Herr Spieldorf: that is your crime, your sole crime; but in the eyes of certain persons it is an unpardonable one. And, tell me, does your fair lady return your love?" "Recollect, it is your sovereign that addresses you; there is nothing indiscreet in my question. Reply fearlessly is Mademoiselle Louise sensible of your love?" "Sire, I believe so." : "That is to say, that you are sure of it. Very well, Herr Spieldorf, I long since contracted a debt towards you, a sacred debt, which I now desire to liquidate, "You were, if I do not mistake, at Ecmühl, Herr Spieldorf?" "It was during my first campaign, Sire." "I recollect it. At Essling, you assisted, in spite of the enemy's fire, in bearing the wounded to the rear. Later, at Wagram, you came under the fire of the cannon which was decimating our ranks, to tend the soldiers even upon the field of battle. The grape shot rained around you; you were struck by a ball in the shoulder, yet you remained bravely at your post, forgetful of your own sufferings, regardless of the blood which flowed from your own wounds, while engaged in tending and endeavouring to restore to life those whose state required prompt and instant succour. Sovereigns who have the happiness of counting among their subjects, men such as you, ought scarcely to know how sufficiently to recompense their services. From this time forth you are attached to our person, with a salary of six thousand florins a year." "Oh! Sire," exclaimed the delighted Leopold, in a voice trembling with emotion, "how can I sufficiently show my gratitude, my-" "By continuing to serve me," interrupted the Emperor, "with the devotion and fidelity which has hitherto marked your conduct, and of which up to the present time you have given me so many proofs. Herr Weissberg," continued the Emperor, addressing himself to the architect, "I now afford you an opportunity of inducing me to forget certain recent circumstances in your conduct which have been displeasing to me. You have refused the hand of your daughter to the surgeon of the third cuirassiers; I ask it now for the physician of the Emperor of Austria." The architect's reply may be easily conceived. "And now," continued the Emperor, turning again to Leopold, “are you disposed to return me my hat?" "Ah! Sire, do not ask it," replied Spieldorf. "That hat, to which I owe all my happiness, how can I from henceforth separate myself from?" "You will suspend it as a relic in your dwelling, will you not? And it will be the most precious portion of the inheritance you will leave to your children," said the Emperor, repeating, word for word, the former speech of the architect Weissberg. Sire, spare me, for mercy's sake," murmured the architect, who had understood the drift of his master's words. "Come, I remember nothing save the promise you have given me," replied the Emperor. "Recollect, I am to sign Herr Spieldorf's contract. All are gainers here it appears but myself, and I am the only loser in this affair," said Francis, laughing," for I lose-my hat!" 205 MORNING STARS! BY WILLIAM HURTON. WANDERERS through the vault of heaven,— I know ye are enwrapp'd in glory, I know your softly dazzling beams But tell me! tell me! did ye never Did disappointment never sever Hopes form'd suited to your sphere? Does love or hatred, joy or sorrow, Radiant orbs! I've vainly ask'd ye For the thousandth thousandth time! Oh! would I'd wings to reach your clime! ESSAYS ON THE MODERN BRITISH POETS. BY THE EDITOR. NO. 1. BURNS-THE POET OF THE HEART. Continued from Page 20. Он Love! Love! Love! from the moment when the babe's soft cheek first receiveth the fond pressure of a mother's lips, to the time when after a long earthly sojourn the aged parent's eyelids are tenderly closed by his weeping offspring-Thou art the heavenly guest that sweeteneth and halloweth every inter mediate step of life's pilgrimage! From first to last, the grand mainspring of human happiness, art thou! Whatever breast entertaineth thee not, in some shape or other, is miserablewhoever scornfully denyeth thee, darkly battleth against the adorable essence of the Godhead, his Maker-whoever never knew thee, is lower than the beasts that perish! Oh Love! Love! Love! sublime and holy art thou in all thy bearings! Marvellous is the scale of thy supreme power! In three degrees will we express its strength :-first, the love of a child for its parents; second, the love of youth for one for whom it is written, he "will forsake father and mother;" third, the absorbing love of mature deep-thinking manhood for GOD— which is the highest pinnacle, the very crowning glory of all thine attributes ! And so the passion (par excellence) shot its ethereal flame through the tingling veins of the youthful bard, and like an untamed courser of princely blood, when for the first time he feels the touch of the spur, so did the powers of poesy which slumbered in Burns, oscillate for a brief period in his fervortrembling soul, and then bounded forth, glowing in all the pristine beauty of a new and palpable existence. Yes truly "Love's own strain to him was given To warble all its ecstacies !" And oh the expression, the expression, the living expression with which he embued his rapturous themes! Many have loved-many can love-many do love full as fervently as did he; and many thus endowed with "the choicest gift of Paradise" have striven (and striven successfully too) to show forth their appreciation of the divine gift in sweet and tuneful song; but ah! how do they sink beside the vivid out-pourings of Burns! O ye true lovers, who are in the burning acme of your heavenly delirium, where will ye seek reciprocity of sentiment expressed in such language as the following: |