of a different kind; with him, it resembled the subsiding of a storm, when every jarring element is lulled to rest; or it was like the mellowed twilight of evening, which succeeds. the scorching brilliancy of day; it was the calming influence reserved to shed its gentler sympathies on the fullness and maturity of life, divesting passion of its turbulence, and casting a chastening and softening veil over the glittering prospects of an imaginative ambition.

It may appear singular that he who had passed unscathed amid the blaze of courtly beauty, was subjugated by the artless simplicity of a being whom few would have selected as the future partner of the gifted and aristocratic von Lindenberg. Yet Caroline Elehenstein was in reality suited to him. A fair and delicate creature, a sort of vapoury emanation from all that is sweet and celestial; she looked a virgin of Raphael, and possessed a soul of corresponding character. The sparkling crys

tallizations of the female nature did not distinguish hers; yet the very absence of these bright asperities rendered her more attractive. Her excellence never dazzled, but it was everywhere apparent. She did not shine forth in the conscious splendour of her loveliness, or kindle the enthusiasm of her admirers by daring flights of imagination; her feelings (those hallowed penates of a woman's breast), were treasured in maidenly concealment, impenetrable to the bold scrutiny of the world; but in the soft recesses of her well stored mind there existed abundant food for admiration and affection. Such was the being whom von Lindenberg loved, and ultimately married.

Mademoiselle Elehenstein was not of illustrious origin, and merely came within the pale of German nobility. She possessed a very small fortune, which had hitherto supported herself and her widowed mother, not perhaps according to their rank in life, but in

a manner to satisfy their moderate a d limited desires. Thus, for an ambitious man, above all for a diplomatist, Lindenberg had made what the world would call an injudicious choice. He acquired by his marriage nothing, and sacrificed much; he neither increased his means, extended his connections, or strengthened his interests; but he added greatly to his private happiness, in acquiring that most inestimable of all treasures, domestic peace.

His young and amiable bride was of course presented to the imperial circle, and although from the retiring modesty of her disposition she could not be supposed to produce either an immediate, or a very vivid impression, yet she succeeded in establishing the more lasting dominion of universal esteem.

After a series of diplomatic services at various foreign courts, von Lindenberg was appointed to an official situation at Vienna. This occurred a short time previous to his

marriage, and might justly be considered as a token of confidence from that government to which he had hitherto proved such a faithful minister. Wearied with change, the Baron had travelled just enough to value the advantages of home, without depreciating those of other countries; and he rejoiced at an arrangement which afforded every opportunity of restoring his hereditary possessions to their pristine grandeur; and although, in the intervals of his more serious avocations, he turned his attention to the numerous repairs necessary in his ancestral castle, these were dictated by the pure taste, and innate attachment to former associations which precludes innovation. The grey walls of Ereinfels still frowned on the margin of the lake; the ivy still flourished round the battlements. In short, the cherished abode of a long line of ancestry was restored to its pristine condition, unaltered.

The old portraits were refreshed, the tapestry was renewed, and the oak panels again

shed their bright gleams of broken light upon the many coloured marble floor.

The first wish of the Baron's heart was at length gratified by the birth of a son. This important event took place at the castle, and was hailed with enthusiastic joy, by a cheerful and devoted tenantry. A long interval elapsed before our heroine, the blue eyed Ella, blessed the anxious hopes of a mother's love. Leopold was four years senior to his sister, and as they grew up in innocence and beauty, his young breast glowed with all the manly tenderness of fraternal attachment towards the playful child, who looked up to him as a superior being, and shared with him in a happy rivalry, the affections of his parents.

The scanty leisure which von Lindenberg was enabled to snatch from the cares of the state, was now devoted to the education of his children, whose infantine characters seemed to develope and expand under his skilful di