tenburg, where he spent the remainder of his days sequestered from the world.

In due time Rupert and Matild had a son, whom they named Gondibert, who became the friend of Herman, as his father had been to the Palatine, and, strange to say, treated him, as it is alleged, much in the same manner; for Herman, falling in love with Beatrice of Lunenburg, Gondibert supplanted him in her affections, and they were married.

The effect of this on Herman was similar to what the conduct of Rupert and Matild had been on his uncle. He, too, quitted the world, but, instead of retiring to the country, and taking his pastime in the chase, he went to Nuremberg, and, entering himself a member of the college, devoted his days and nights to the study of that strange and mysterious crudition for which he became so greatly renowned.

When he had been about seven years engaged in these solitary studies and occult researches, he happened one afternoon to walk out into the forest on the northern side of the city, and, just at the moment of sunset, he observed a stranger near him. He was somewhat startled by the suddenness of his appearance, for the stranger had come upon him like an instantaneous apparition, and his garb and air were strange and alien. He had a singularly ancient look, and it is supposed by many that he could be no other than the excommunicated Jew, who is doomed to wander over the earth till the day of judgment.

After a solemn and silent salutation, this tremendous person offered to Herman a large old magical volume, curiously bound and ornamented, and locked by seven brazen clasps of the most extraordinary workmanship. Eight times Count Herman refused to accept the mysterious volume. It would have been well for him had he withstood the ninth temptation, but his firmness yielded; and that night, though the sky was cloudless, and every planet and orb of the heavens shone out with unusual brilliancy, the natal star of Herman was not visible.

The instant that he took the book, that strange and ancient man vanished, and the Count returned with it to his chambers in the college. It was observed, by some of the priests in the city and the doctors of the university, under his arm, as he walked homeward; and they were all struck with wonder and curiosity at the sight, for the most learned among them had never seen any volume so richly and so hieroglyphically adorned.

For seven days and nights Count Herman did nothing but study that volume, and with the window of his apartment open, in order that he might see the star which he had previously ascertained presided over his destiny. As often as he turned a new leaf, the rays of the star were observed to flicker and twinkle with an ominous and fatal intimation, but still he persevered.

On the evening of the seventh day, he had completed his perusal of the volume; and, without speaking to any one, he walked to

the church-yard, and gathered certain herbs; he afterwards went to an apothecary, and bought other ingredients; but what use he meant them for the apothecary could not divine. Having thus collected his materials, he procured a large copper vessel, in the centre of which he lighted a fire, and threw in the ingredients which he had previously collected.

By this time it was almost midnight, and his star had contracted its lustre into the smallest possible speck. The Count still seemed to hesitate as he approached a table, on which lay a case of lancets that he had provided, and as often as he paused, reluctant to lift the instruments, the beautiful star brightened its admonitory radiance, and cheered him to desist. But his evil genius in the end prevailed;-stretching forth his hand rashly, he took one of the lancets, and, piercing his left arm, allowed three drops of his own blood to mingle with the other ingredients of the caldron.

Scarcely had he with a throbbing heart performed this dreadful incident of sorcery, when a vast, lean, and dreadful hand appeared amidst the smoke and fume of the charm, and presented him with a roll, on which was written these words:-"If thou wilt yield thy soul to me, unless it can be redeemed by the prayers of those you injure, I will serve thy wishes with the power of a god and the submission of a slave till All-souls' eve."

"Who and what art thou," exclaimed Count Herman," that dost tempt me with this apocalypse of agency?-Show me thy face, that I may know if thou mayest be trusted."

At that instant a black cloud, which was hovering in the air opposite the window, and which had obscured Count Herman's star of destiny, suddenly opened, and displayed a magnificent being, clothed in light and splendour, and smiling with ineffable and alluring sweetness and beneficence. The Count, ravished with delight at this beautiful revelation, fell on his knees, and declared, that he had no desire to serve any brighter God; but still retaining some of his wonted self-possession, he said-" Show me, however, what thou canst do for me, for I will accept nothing on trust.". In that instant the vision disappeared, the cloud rolled itself together, and in a moment after it was moved aside by the wind, and Count Herman saw in another cloud behind it a shadowy procession of slaves bearing loads of treasure, and golden urns, and gems of the richest lustre." No," said the Count; " if thou canst give only wealth, I will not accept the conditions of thy offer; for gold can but minister to the sensual wishes of the corporeal being, and my spirit thirsts for higher pleasures."

Scarcely had he uttered these words when a change came over the vision, and he beheld in the cloud a vast landscape delineated as in the scene of a theatre. In the midst of it was a superb city crowned with domes and spires; and presently a great army was seen approaching, in the commander of which he beheld a figure of himself. As it approached the city the gates were thrown open, and a number of venerable senators were seen to come forth, bearVOL. VI. No. 31.-Museum.

G

ing the glittering regalia of an ancient monarchy, which they presented, kneeling at the feet of the phantom-resemblance of the Count.

"No," exclaimed Count Herman; "I am not to be bribed by the toys and baubles of ambition. You would but place me in the sunshine, on a far-seen pinnacle, to make my ruin more impressive than the disasters which befall the common fortunes of mankind. Away, ye empty pageants, ye vain illusions, that the slavish mind alone worships! I have not given my days and nights to the magnanimous spirit of antiquity, to be fooled by such trinkets."

In the same moment the scene again changed, and the picture in the cloud represented a dark forest, partially illuminated by gleams of lightning, which showed a form like the figure of Sir Gondibert.

"Ha!" cried the Count, "you would surrender him to my power! No, spirit, no; I am not to be tempted by offering me the indulgence of so mean a passion as malice."

In that instant the view of the forest, and the phantom, and the storm disappeared, and in its stead the beautiful Beatrice was seen in all her charms asleep on a voluptuous couch.

"Canst thou give her?" exclaimed the enraptured Herman, in a fatal moment. "O, let me possess her, and I am thine!"

At these words a dreadful peal of thunder shook the skies; the whole heavens were overwhelmed with tempest and horror; and Count Herman, distracted by the fearful compact he had made, rushed into the open air.

The alarm into which the college was thrown by the sudden storm may easily be conceived; and it would be a vain attempt of me to describe the agitation of the learned professors, flying halfnaked in all directions, and the confusion into which many amiable students were thrown by the sudden discovery of the sort of inmates they had taken into their rooms for the night. All these and other particulars it would only be a waste of time to describe; but from that night Count Herman became morose and melancholy. His studies were abandoned, and he gave himself up to the most gloomy and moody abstraction.

In the mean time, Sir Gondibert and the Lady Beatrice were enjoying every felicity of the married state. Their affection had been blessed with several children, with whom they were annually in the practice of celebrating the return of their wedding-day by a little rural fête, at which all their neighbours, and the peasantry around their residence, were in the practice of attending. On the return of this joyous anniversary, while they were in the midst of their festival, Count Herman was seen to issue from the recesses of a wood, with his arms folded, and countenance knotted with the evidences of fierce and troubled thoughts. Sir Gondibert, on seeing him, was touched with sorrow at his altered appearance, and sent two of the children to invite him to partake of their revels. At first the Count was shocked and agitated, to find him

self led thus unaware to witness the happiness of his rival; but the kind and innocent entreaties of the little children won upon his affections, and he allowed them to lead him by the hand to their parents.

For a few minutes the appearance of the gloomy misanthrope damped the general hilarity of the company; but the impression soon wore off, and they resumed their dancing with even more spirit. But their cheerfulness found no responsive sympathy in the breast of Count Herman; on the contrary, it awakened all the worst feelings of his nature, and he hastily quitted his seat between Sir Gondibert and Beatrice, and rushed into the forest, calling for the demon. What passed between them is not known; but scarcely had he disappeared among the trees, when a dreadful wild boar came furiously out of the wood, and carried off one of the dancers, to the total destruction of all the happiness and pleasure of the day.

From that time, as if afraid to trust himself abroad in the world, the Count retired to his paternal castle of Ruggensburg, where he lived for some time a solitary and wretched life, musing with remorse on the rash act by which he had forfeited his soul without being able to avail himself of the purchase-price. In all that time his natal star was not visible in the heavens; and night after night he walked the lonely battlements of his towers, with his eyes eagerly fixed on the constellation to which it belonged; but it never shone out.

One night, as he was thus contemplating, with a settled horror, the countenance of the skies, so totally darkened to him, he was heard to exclaim,-" The loss of Beatrice was perdition to me, and the rage of passion, like the blasts of hell, overwhelmed me with inexpressible despair. O, Beatrice, what a forfeit I have made for thee, and yet I have not courage to demand of the fiend to make thee mine!" and at these words he cried with a shrill and terrible voice, to which all the midnight echoes resounded awfully, as it reverberated among the hills around the castle, "Come, thou accursed demon, and fulfil the purpose for which I am pledged to be thine. I will have Beatrice in my castle a willing guest; find the means to bring this to pass."

At these words a dismal and ominous black cloud, like a pall, covered the face of the heavens, and the fiend was seen to approach it, sailing slowly along with dreadful wings. In a moment it stooped, and lifting the blackness like a curtain, exposed behind a stately bedchamber, in which, on a couch, lay the phantom of a venerable old man, seemingly in the last stage of life, presenting a number of papers to one of the numerous attendants who surrounded his couch. Count Herman was struck with astonishment at this visionary scene; for in it he recognised a chamber in the castle of his uncle, the Palatine; and in the person of the invalid, a wasted sickly apparition of that illustrious prince; but before he could inquire what it meant, the fiend suddenly armed himself

with a dart, and struck the dying man dead. The whole scene then disappeared, and in the same moment an express arrived in the castle from the Palatine, to inform the Count that he lay at the point of death, and was desirous to see him before he died.

Count Herman, overawed and trembling when he heard this, immediately set out for the residence of the Palatine; but, before he had performed half the journey, he was met by Sir Ludolph, his uncle's secretary, who was coming to inform him that the Palatine was no more.

"Where are the papers that he gave you?" cried the Count abruptly. The attendants, and particularly Ludolph, were surprised at the question; but the latter only bowed, and taking a parcel of papers from his bosom, presented them to the Count. "There," said he, "are the papers which he gave me to deliver into your own hands. They are the bonds and vouchers of heavy debts due by Sir Gondibert on his father's account."

At these words Count Herman snatched them eagerly from the hands of Ludolph, and seemed, as it were, to devour them with his eyes.

The faithful secretary was evidently much moved at this avidity, and said

"Your uncle, my late gracious master, charged me in the most solemn manner to request you never to claim payment of these debts; for the debtor was once his dearest friend, and he would long ago have destroyed the bonds; but knowing how similarly treated you had been by his son, Sir Gondibert, he still preserved them, in order that you might show the greatness of your mind by giving them up even to the man who had injured you, and so, like the Palatine himself, do good for evil."

But to this Count Herman said dryly,-" All that Sir Gondibert possesses is not sufficient to satisfy these words." "Nor twice as much," replied Ludolph.

"Then he is ruined."

"He must be so, were you, my lord, to insist on payment." "The man is in my power," exclaimed the Count, with hoarse and horrible exultation. "Go, slave, and at thy peril remit no means the utmost rigour of the law allows, till Sir Gondibert has paid every fraction of this debt."

Sir Ludolph would have remonstrated, but the Count was inexorable, and, in consequence, Sir Gondibert, with his family, was reduced to the extremest distress. By these circumstances, the command which had been given to the fiend was fulfilled, and the Lady Beatrice, in great sorrow, came to the gate of the Count's castle, and sought admission.

While she was standing in conversation with the porter, the Count happened to come out, and seeing who was there, ran and attempted to embrace her; but Sir Gondibert, who had attended her thither, and who at the moment stood concealed behind a tree,