reached the age of nineteen without much of event; when, one morning in June, and before the regular season of summer tourists had begun to visit the lake, a stranger, in whose dress and air her practised eye at once detected an Englishman, approached her cottage. He travelled with his knapsack, and on foot; but there was something in his appearance which convinced her that he was dictated by choice or convenience, rather than necessity. He was provided with all materials for sketching, and the liberal arrangements which he at once entered into for his lodgings in a neighbouring cottage, confirmed the idea she had conceived of his riches. He at once engaged her boat for the period in which he intended to employ himself in sketching the various beauties of the lake. Gertrude had been quick enough and accurate enough in her conceptions of his station and circumstances; but a further acquaintance, in the two or three first excursions that they made, furnished her with much matter for wonder. He had informed her that he was an Englishman, and a colonel in the army; and yet he was in both these characters different to what she had before experienced. In the first place, most of his countrymen with whom she had met, seemed rather to hurry through than enjoy the scenery of her dearly-loved lake,—had run up to each of the different waterfalls or points of view, as if they feared it would have disappeared before they reached it, and rushed back to the boat after a cursory glance, as if the sight had been a painful one; then their attempts to speak to her-a sort of mixture of French, of which she had never learnt a syllable, by a word or two of German, marvellously ill-pronounced. The stranger, on the contrary, seemed to linger and feast on each scene, which it had become her delight to show to him, and which he transferred, as if by magic, to his sketch-book; while ever as he drew, his conversation was poured forth on topics suited to her capacity and habits, in the purest German, which as opposed to the Tyrolese patois, was associated in her mind with refinement and rank. Again, as she viewed him as an officer in the army, what a contrast to the only specimens she was aware of having met with! Bavarians or Austrians clad in uniforms, with enormous mustaches, bronzed complexions, and stiff bearing! As she looked at the fair skin, smooth lip, and easy, though dignified carriage of the stranger, she could hardly believe that he belonged to the same profession. When her surpassing beauty is considered, to which the winning simplicity of a Tyrolese girl, and the interest with which she seemed to watch him, must have added a double charm-it did not seem wonderful that on both sides, feelings of mutual attraction should have existed. In a country where female virtue before marriage is not much regarded, and with two persons, the one without a relation in the world, the other far away from his kindred and country, the result might have been anticipated. The stranger moved from his lodgings, to remain there as she firmly believed, for the rest of their lives, or to leave it together should they leave at all. If he did not so far deceive her by words, the extent to which he accommodated his ways to her ways, and the discourses he held with her on their future plans, served to countenance a prospect which he, August.-VOL. LVI. NO. CCXXIV. 2 M perhaps, never entertained. The early independence of control which had been her lot, and the deference with which she was used to be approached by the youths of her valley, had given her an imperious manner, and impatience of all control, which sat so naturally on her, and assorted so becomingly with her style of beauty and figure, that the Englishman submitted himself to it most implicitly, and giving himself up, as it were, to the romance and the inspiring character of what he called his adventure, humoured all her fancies, while insensibly some of the polish and refinement of his manner communicated itself to her. Such was the state of things when the summer being now past, and the tourists who had been committed to the charge of her assistants being sensibly diminished in number, the Englishman began to look with horror at the idea of a winter passed in a Tyrolese cottage, and the engagements and amusements he had arranged for the winter recurred to his recollection. When he communicated to Gertrude the necessity he was under of proceeding to Vienna, the imperious "Ich auch ohne mich richt!""" ("I'll go also! Not without me,") with which she announced her resolution of accompanying him, seemed to settle that matter without his having the power or even wish to resist her. They set out for Vienna. By a sort of presentiment, it would seem, Gertrude directed every thing to be kept at her cottage in its usual state, though she had no reason to suppose she should ever return. What the feeling may have been with which the. Englishman regarded his beautiful Tyrolese when he thus found himself mixing with her in civilized society, can never be accurately ascertained, as the only source of information on all these matters, was Gertrude herself, who communicated most of these particulars to the innkeeper's wife from whom they were of course soon known to our informant. It would seem, however, that the excitement and amusement of showing to her so many objects of wonder and admiration, for one who had passed her life in a remote valley, served to keep up the warmth of manner, the kindness of tone, and appearance of undiminished interest in her, which it was at first his delight to remark. The admiration, too, which her novel style of beauty excited, no doubt gratified his vanity. Sadder times and unwelcome changes were, however, approaching! Gertrude, under the expectation of soon becoming a mother, was obliged to remain more quietly within the house, and looked in vain for that devoted attention which a woman looks for at such moments from her lover. He seemed to have entered on a new line of amusements, now that he was necessarily deprived of her company, and soon succeeded other symptoms which threatened a still more complete disturbance to their happiness. His obedience to her slightest wish, and the extent to which he submitted himself to her imperious tone, had appeared habitual to him. Soon, however, she found that while her most commanding tone could not ensure compliance, even a flood of tears, which had before ever produced the effect of establishing her empire on a surer basis, was now only the signal for a long absence from her side. "Un pouvoir impunément bravé touche à sa fin." Her heart sank within her at these repeated symptoms of change, and the strength of her health and spirits prevented her being able to regain her lost ground. It would be a sad task to trace the numerous little annoyances which made up the sum of her misery; she began, however, to see that her position with respect to him produced a slighting manner in those who addressed her, of which the progress she had made in refinement, rendered her more sensible. It was about this time, too, that she became more fully aware of the disgrace which the Englishman had brought upon her, and the manner in which it was regarded by those amongst whom she was now placed. Her infant which was born prematurely, and in the depth of winter, seemed, nevertheless, to thrive well, and to this object did she devote all her cares; while, instead of being as is generally the case in wedded life, a bond of union between her and the father, the coldness with which the Englishman regarded this her treasure, tended more completely to estrange him from her affections. During the solitary hours she passed in her chamber after her confinement, she formed a plan in which every days' additional experience confirmed her, viz., to put an end to the continual tortures of disappointment at her lover's conduct, by returning to her own dearly-loved lake. Towards it, amidst all the horrors of winter did her heart yearn, and she felt, as she afterwards said, as if her only chance for peace was there. She dared not ask for a passport, yet without it, she could not hope to travel except on foot. Still she was undaunted, and bearing her child in her arms, on a bright cold morning towards the end of February, she started on her perilous undertaking; perilous indeed, at such a season, for both of them. However, the constitution of the mountaineer vindicated its character, and her sturdy infant seemed only to gain additional strength as it approached the mountains, amid which it was to pass the rest of its life. Once towards the end of her journey, on a wild stormy day, her strength began to fail her, when, in the midst of the war of the elements, a chamois darted down the mountain-side close to her path. It seemed, as she said, as if there to welcome her return, and brought back to her mind, a host of old recollections. She accomplished her journey, and returned as nearly as possible to her old employments; two years had since passed without her hearing any thing of the English colonel, and she seemed to have recovered her former peace of mind, except when attempts such as those of our friends, to draw her picture or compliment her beauty drew forth from her a passing burst of indignation. Poor thing! when we had listened to her story, we regretted bitterly that we should have caused her even a momentary pang. Of Chiemsee, all that can be said, is that it is the most extensive of the Bavarian lakes, and that like any other large piece of water it looks very well on a fine day. In this latter point we were not lucky, and after the Königsee with its graceful boatwoman, it seemed tame and uninteresting. There is, however, a little knot of lakes with which we closed our touring season, well worthy of mention as it comprehends Achensee and Tegernsee. In our road to the first of these, at a village, where we were obliged to pass the night, a little incident occurred, which shows how easily these Tyrolese innkeepers are incensed and restored to good humour. They are almost as jealous as the Americans about being commanded with any air of authority, and seemed to think that the obligation is mutual overnight, though the bill is paid in the morning. Our servant having displeased the landlord by the tone of his orders, he grew sulky, and managed to make us thoroughly uncomfortable. Before my travelling companions appeared the next morning, I was employed in the kitchen in writing my memoranda of the evening before. The attention of our surly landlord seemed much attracted at the whole proceeding, but when I produced a row of bright steel pens on a card, he could not restrain his mingled curiosity and admiration. He asked me what they were made of, and concluding, I suppose, that I was in the" steel pen line," he said he should like to have one of them. I, of course, presented him with one. "What does it cost, mein Herr ?" said he. "I really don't remember," I replied. "Nay! but what am I to give you?" "Oh, I make you a present of it-I don't sell pens." Upon which he remarked, "Ah, the English are so generous!" Upon this, all his good-humour returned, and when my companion came in, he found the surly host of the night before, busy explaining to me our route on an old post-map of his own. By his advice, we saw the lake of Achensee to the greatest advantage, as instead of taking to the passage-boat, as we had intended, we kept to the narrow road which skirts its banks. In some places so completely precipitous are the rocks that overhang the water, that the road is made a sort of platform fixed to the solid rock, and guarded by a strong railing to the exact breadth that permits the passage of a carriage. To those who are nervous about travelling thus in mid-air, between rock and water, the passage-boat would of course be preferable; but we felt no apprehension, though sundry little pictures nailed up by the roadside, representing such fearful accidents, as carriages backing over the rails, and their passengers falling into the water, might appal the nervous, by showing that such things have been. One of the most striking things in this lake, particularly as seen from above, is the very deep blue of the waters, which, as it was remarked on two different visits to it, must be characteristic. From hence to Tegernsee is but a two hours' drive by a mountain-road, that either follows the course of brawling streams or dips into shady glens to emerge again on the heights. Tegernsee is the most frequented, I had almost said fashionable, of the Bavarian lakes, as its near neighbourhood to Munich renders it so easy of access, while the concourse of great people, including princes and ministers fails not to attract those who think that the highest recommendation. It is by no means deficient in romantic scenery; on the contrary, the mixture of cultivated land, rich wood, and gay villas, in the foreground makes a very pleasing contrast to the Alpine mountains in the distance. Here did we linger for several days; sometimes driving along its banks, visiting, in the comfortable boats here kept, the remote bays, and sometimes climbing to the top of the hill called the parapluie, or to any of the accessible points of view. At length, however, the shortened days, the sharp wind from the mountains, and the increased quantity of snow with which their peaks were covered, announced that we had at length reached the close of our Summer in Bavaria. E. A STORY FOR THE BEAUTIFUL. BY N. P. WILLIS, ESQ. CHAP. I. "If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, Left to be finished by such a she; And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fulness of perfection lies in him." It is a conceded point, I believe, that an author may choose his readers. The devout are separately addressed, so are the political, so are the scientific, so are the rich and poor, so are the learned and unlearned. I address myself to the beautiful. Stop here, plain reader! The tale is not for you! Stop here, uncomely critic! The language is not addressed to your comprehension. The treatise on divinity or Jaw is phrased to the capacity of the divine or the jurist. Let none but the beautiful think to read this story understandingly. Did it ever occur to you, fairest lady (for now I know whose eyes brighten this dull page with their light), that the genius of Shakspeare is oftener a divining-rod whose dip tells the skilful where golden thoughts lie hid, than a crucible in which the gold is fairly separated from the dross-oftener the hitherward leader of a constellation half lost in the receding heaven, than a single star whose place and colour are known to the schoolboy and shepherd? You will remember the Pucelle's splendid but bitter similitude: "Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought." And you will know how much more truly it may be said of pleasure! I have called up a sigh, but when you have pressed down those sweeping lashes with your white hand, and imprisoned the sad thought for an instant, I will cheat you of it again with my story. At one of the earliest balls of the London season of 18—, there stood by the statue of Diana, in House, a lady who, in her day, had been a woman of superb beauty; and by her side, caressing unconsciously the exquisitely-chiselled foot of the goddess, a younger lady leaned on the pedestal, and with eagerness, repressed by the finger laid occasionally on her arm, watched the movements of a peculiarly graceful dancer in the Mazurka. "He is very handsome!" said Lady Mavis, the elder of the two, in a tone more of soliloquy than remark. "More noble than handsome," replied her daughter; "but it would be difficult to find a fault in his person." "Does his countenance please you ?" asked the mother. The fair girl looked up, with a slight colour mounting in her cheek, and, after an instant's hesitation, answered, "Yes, altogether." If I had a life to live in England, another in France or Italy, and a third in America, and one eminent gift were offered me for each, how think you, bright lady, I would choose? I answer, from much study of |