THE MAGICIAN'S VISITER.

IT was at the close of a fine autumnal day, and the shades of evening were beginning to gather over the city of Florence, when a low quick rạp was heard at the door of Cornelius Agrippa, and shortly afterwards a Stranger was introduced into the apartment in which the Philosopher was sitting at his studies.

The Stranger, although finely formed, and of courteous demeanour, had a certain indefinable air of mystery about him, which excited awe, if, indeed, it had not a repellent effect. His years it was difficult to guess, for the marks of youth and age were blended in his features in a most extraordinary manner. There was not a furrow in his cheek, nor a wrinkle on his brow, and his large black eye beamed with all the brilliancy and vivacity of youth; but his stately figure was bent, apparently beneath the weight of years; his hair,

although thick and clustering, was grey; and though his voice was feeble and tremulous, yet it's tones were of the most ravishing and soul-searching melody. His costume was that of a Florentine gentleman; but he held a staff like that of a Palmer in his hand, and a silken sash, inscribed with oriental characters, was bound around his waist. His face was deadly pale, but every feature of it was singularly beautiful, and it's expression was that of profound wisdom, mingled with poignant

sorrow.

"Pardon me, learned Sir," said he, addressing the Philosopher, "but your fame has travelled into all lands, and has reached all ears; and I could not leave the fair City of Florence without seeking an interview with one who is it's greatest boast and ornament."

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You are right welcome, Sir," returned Agrippa; "but I fear that your trouble and curiosity will be but ill repaid. I am simply one, who, instead of devoting my days, as do the wise, to the acquirement of wealth and honour, have passed long years in painful and unprofitable study; in endeavouring to unravel the secrets of Nature, and initiating myself in the mysteries of the Occult Sciences."

"Talkest thou of long years!" echoed the

Stranger, and a melancholy smile played over his features: "thou, who hast scarcely seen fourscore since thou left'st thy cradle, and for whom the quiet grave is now waiting, eager to clasp thee in her sheltering arms! I was among the tombs to-day, the still and solemn tombs: I saw them smiling in the last beams of the setting sun. When I was a boy, I used to wish to be like that sun; his career was so long, so bright, so glorious! But to-night I thought it is better to slumber among those tombs than to be like him.' To-night he sank behind the hills, apparently to repose, but tomorrow he must renew his course, and run the same dull and unvaried, but toilsome and unquiet, There is no grave for him! and the night and morning dews are the tears that he sheds over his tyrannous destiny."

race.

Agrippa was a deep observer and admirer of external nature and of all her phenomena, and had often gazed upon the scene which the Stranger described, but the feelings and ideas which it awakened in the mind of the latter were so different from any thing which he had himself experienced, that he could not help, for a season, gazing upon him in speechless wonder. His guest, however, speedily resumed the discourse.

"But I trouble you, I trouble you; then to

my purpose in making you this visit. I have heard strange tales of a wondrous Mirror, which your potent art has enabled you to construct, in which whosoever looks may see the distant, or the dead, on whom he is desirous again to fix his gaze. My eyes see nothing in this outward visible world which can be pleasing to their sight: the grave has closed over all I loved; and Time has carried down it's stream every thing that once contributed to my enjoyment. The world is a vale of tears: but amongst all the tears which water that sad valley, not one is shed for me! the fountain in my own heart, too, is dried up. I would once again look upon the face which I loved; I would see that eye more bright, and that step more stately, than the antelope's; that brow, the broad smooth page on which God had inscribed his fairest characters. I would gaze on all I loved, and all I lost. Such a gaze would be dearer to my heart than all that the world has to offer me; except the grave! except the grave! except the grave !"

The passionate pleading of the Stranger had such an effect upon Agrippa, who was not used to exhibit his miracle of art to the eyes of all who desired to look in it, although he was often tempted by exorbitant presents and high honours to do so,

that he readily consented to grant the request of his extraordinary visiter.

"Whom would'st thou see?" he enquired.

My child! my own sweet Miriam!" answered the Stranger.

Cornelius immediately caused every ray of the light of Heaven to be excluded from the chamber, placed the Stranger on his right hand, and commenced chaunting, in a low soft tone, and in a strange language, some lyrical verses, to which the Stranger thought he heard occasionally a response; but it was a sound so faint and indistinct that he hardly knew whether it existed any where but in his own fancy. As Cornelius continued his chaunt, the room gradually became illuminated, but whence the light proceeded it was impossible to discover. At length the Stranger plainly perceived a large Mirror, which covered the whole of the extreme end of the apartment, and over the surface of which a dense haze, or cloud, seemed to be rapidly passing.

"Died she in wedlock's holy bands?" enquired Cornelius.

"She was a virgin, spotless as the snow."

"How many years have passed away since the grave closed over her?"