and the brush dipped in holy water, which used to make the evil spirits scatter like a swarm of flies when you flap your handkerchief among them, for a long time availed nothing against the obstinacy of the spectral Amazons, who maintained their claims to their ancient possessions so stoutly, that the exorcists, with their whole panoply of relics, were obliged to quit the field.

At length a famous member of the fraternity, who traversed the country to spy out witches, drive away bogles, and cure people possessed with evil spirits, was engaged to bring the riotous ghosts to reason, and shut them up in their tombs, where they might roll their skulls and clatter their bones as much as they pleased. He succeeded, at last, in restoring quiet, and the nuns were dismissed to their repose; but after seven years had elapsed, one of the sisterhood awoke a second time, showed herself at night, and renewed the old disturbances until she was tired; then rested, as before, for seven years, and again appeared in the castle. After a while, the family grew accustomed to her presence, and when the time came for her septennial visit, were careful not to walk through the cloisters after nightfall, or leave the fireside without good reason.

After the decease of the first occupant, the castle descended to his son, and thus it went down from father to son, until the period of the thirty years' war, when the last male of the line came into possession of the estate. He was a man of such goodly proportions, that, at the time when his growth was completed, his weight was little less than that of the great Francis Finatze, so famous for his paunch, or the distinguished Paul Butterbread, who lately exhibited his corpulence to the admiration of the Parisians. Siegmund, however, before he became of the shape of a pumpkin, was a very respectable man, who lived in good style on his acres, but took care not to diminish his patrimony. As soon as he succeeded to the estate of his ancestors, he followed their example by taking a wife to continue the line of Lauenstein. After due time a child was born, and proved to be a pretty little girl, the first and last of his progeny. From this time forth, thanks to his wife's attention to his comfort, he grew continually fatter and fatter. The care of the daughter's education devolved entirely upon the mother, who, from the period of the marriage, had exercised sovereign authority in the household. The more papa increased in bulk, the more stupid he became, till finally he took no notice of any thing that was not boiled or roasted.

Miss Emily, as her mother was constantly busied about the household affairs, was left in a great measure to the kind care of

nature, and, perhaps, was no loser thereby. Nature is an artist who takes good care of her reputation, and usually repairs an error by a masterpiece of skill. She had formed the person and intellect of the daughter on a very different model from those of the father. Emily was handsome and intelligent. As her charms unfolded themselves, her mother became determined to make them a means of increasing the dignity of the family. The dame cherished a secret pride, not easily discernible on common occasions, except from her devotion to her genealogical tree, which she regarded as the principal ornament of her dwelling. There was hardly a family in the whole country with which she would have willingly seen her daughter connected, and none of the young lords in the neighbourhood were allowed to make attempts on her heart. No officer of the customs could watch a toll-gate with more vigilance to see that no contraband wares are admitted, than she did the heart of her daughter. Lovers were kept at a distance, and all the schemes of mothers and aunts brought to nought. Emily, for a long time, implicitly followed her mother's directions, and looked down with scorn upon her admirers. She waited for a prince or an earl to do homage to her charms, and humbler suitors were received with chilling reserve.

Before, however, the expected grandee appeared, a circumstance occurred, which overthrew all mamma's plans, and worked such a change in Emily's heart, that all the nobility of Germany could have made no impression upon it. During the continuance of the thirty years' war, the army of the gallant Wallenstein happened to go into winter-quarters in Vogtland; and Siegmund was overwhelmed with a crowd of unbidden guests, who made more uproar in the castle than the riotous ghosts of the holy sisterhood. Although their right of possession was far less, it was `a much harder matter to expel them. Finding the evil unavoidable, the family thought it best to submit with a good grace, and exert themselves to please their guests. There was a constant round of suppers and balls in the castle. The mother presided over the former, the daughter over the latter. This abundant hospitality put the officers in good humor; they honored the house where they were so well entertained, and the host and guests were mutually satisfied with each other. Among the visiters, was many a young hero fitted to endanger a lady's peace; but one was distinguished above the rest. This was a young officer who went by the name of the handsome Frederick. He looked like the

god of love in arms, and his manners were as pleasing as his figure was elegant; he was mild, modest, obliging, a lively talker, and a

capital dancer. Emily could not withstand so many accomplishments, and her bosom heaved with a new and indescribable, but delightful emotion. She only wondered that the charming Adonis was not called the handsome earl or the handsome prince, but only the handsome Frederick. She inquired of his comrades about his name and family, but no one could give her any information. All praised him as a gallant and good soldier, and a man of the most amiable character. But his pedigree could not be clearly made out, and the opinions on this score were as various as the speakers. All agreed that he had risen by his merits from the ranks to the place of captain, and, if fortune favored, would rapidly rise higher.

He was not long in hearing of Emily's inquiries. His friends were eager to communicate the flattering news, and to congratulate him on having gained her affections. His modesty made him suppose they were joking, but he could not hear, without emotion, of the lady's inquiries; for he had been struck, on first seeing her, with the admiration which is usually the precursor of love.

No language is so intelligible and expressive as sympathy, and, through its sweet mediation, acquaintance soon ripens into love. The feelings of Emily and Frederick, indeed, did not immediately express themselves in words; but they had no difficulty in understanding each other. Their eyes met, and told all that timid love dares tell. The unusual bustle in the house had withdrawn the mother's attention at this most critical period from the care of her daughter's heart, and crafty love took the opportunity to surprise the citadel. Once in possession, he taught the damsel far different lessons from those of mamma. The mortal foe of ceremony, he began with eradicating from her mind the prejudice that birth and rank are to stand in the way of the sweetest of passions, and lovers submit to a tabular classification, like insects in the collections of an entomologist. The pride of descent vanished from her soul, as quickly as the figures on a window in a frosty morning melt before the warm beams of the sun. She readily excused the handsome Frederick's want of birth, and began to detest aristocratical distinctions.

Frederick, on his part, was as much in love as the lady, and, when he perceived that his suit would not be in vain, he took the first opportunity to disclose the state of his heart to the object of his affections. She received his confession with blushing cheeks and secret joy, and pledges of inviolable fidelity were mutually given. Their happiness was now complete, and undisturbed by the thought of the future. Spring, however, at length returned,

and recalled the army to the field. The troops assembled, and the sad moment approached when the lovers must part. They now deliberated anxiously about the means of effecting a union which death only should sever. The lady had imparted to her lover the notions of her mother on the subject of marriage, and it was not to be expected that the proud dame would give up a tittle of her system. A hundred projects were proposed for overcoming this difficulty, but none afforded a reasonable prospect of success. When the young officer found that his mistress was willing to enter into any plan which seemed likely to accomplish their wishes, he ventured to propose an elopement. The lady, after short deliberation, consented. The next thing to be thought of was how she should escape from the walled and guarded castle. She well knew that all her mother's former vigilance would return as soon as Wallenstein's forces had departed. But the quick wit of love can overcome all difficulties. The maiden knew it was the current belief in the castle, that on All Souls day in the next autumn, the spectral nun would appear again, after her seven years' rest. The dread with which the apparition was regarded, was likewise known to her; she, therefore, formed the bold project of appearing in the character of the nun, and making her escape under this diguise.

Frederick was enraptured at the suggestion, and clapped his hands for joy. Although the thirty years' war was some time before the age of esprits forts, the young officer was philosopher enough to doubt the existence of ghosts, or at least to trouble his head very little about them. After all the necessary arrangements had been made, he sprung into the saddle, commended himself to the protection of love, and rode forth at the head of his troop. He served through the campaign unwounded, although he shrunk from no danger. Love seemed to have heard his prayer, and guarded him from harm.

In the mean time Emily remained equally agitated by hope and fear. She trembled for the life of her faithful knight, and often inquired about the officers who had been their guests during the past winter. Every report of a skirmish filled her with alarm, which her mother, unsuspicious of the true cause, regarded as a proof of tenderness of heart. Frederick took pains to inform his mistress from time to time of his situation. His letters were secretly conveyed to her by means of a faithful maid, and answers transmitted through the same channel. As soon as the campaign was ended, he put every thing in readiness for the beforementioned enterprise, purchased four horses and a post-chaise, and consulted

the almanac diligently, that he might not miss the day when he was to meet his Emily, in a grove near the castle of Lauenstein. On All Souls day, the lady prepared, with the assistance of a faithful attendant, to execute her project. She retired early to her apartment, pretending a slight indisposition, and metamorphosed herself into the prettiest ghost which ever appeared on the face of the earth. The minutes seemed to move on leaden feet till the expected hour arrived. In the mean time the silent moon, the friend of lovers, arose, and shed a feeble glimmer over the castle, in which the tumult of the busy day had subsided by degrees into a solemn stillness. None of the family remained awake, except the house-keeper, who was casting up the expenses of the kitchen, the cook, who had to pick a score of larks for her master's breakfast, the porter, who kept watch and called out the hour, and Hector, the house-dog, who was barking at the rising moon.

When the clock sounded the hour of midnight, Emily left her chamber, holding in her hand a master-key, which would unlock all the doors, and crept softly down stairs, through the cloisters, towards the light which she saw burning in the kitchen. When she had almost reached it, she began to rattle a bunch of keys, and slam to the stove doors in the adjoining apartments.

As soon as the servants heard the strange noise, they thought the nun had returned, and instantly fled; the cook into the cupboard, the house-keeper to bed, the porter to his wife, and even Hector, the hound, ran into his kennel. The maiden, finding the coast clear, darted immediately into the wood, where she thought she saw at a distance the chariot and horses prepared for flight. As she came nearer, however, she found that the shadow of a tree had deceived her. Believing that this mistake had led her astray, and made her miss the place of appointment, she traversed all the pathways of the wood from end to end, but found neither carriage nor lover. She was confounded at this circumstance. Not to appear at a place of appointment is, among lovers, an offence of the first magnitude, but to fail, under such circumstances, was more than treachery. She could not account for it. After waiting in vain for an hour, trembling with cold and anguish, she began to weep bitterly. "Ah, the faithless wretch," she exclaimed, "is making sport of me." A rival has seduced him from me, and he has lost all remembrance of my love. This thought recalled her pedigree to her mind, and she felt ashamed of having entertained an affection for a man without noble birth or noble sentiment. As soon as the first tumult of passion had subsided, she began to reflect on the means of repairing the step she had taken, and