'wide-opened doors, fair outlook over blossom and bush, over 'grove and velvet green, stretching, undulating onwards to the ' remote Mountain peaks: so bright, so mild, and everywhere the 'melody of birds and happy creatures: it was all as if man had 'stolen a shelter from the Sun in the bosom-vesture of Summer 'herself. How came it that the Wanderer advanced thither with 'such forecasting heart (ahndungsvoll), by the side of his gay 'host? Did he feel that to these soft influences his hard bosom ought to be shut; that here, once more, Fate had it in view to 'try him to mock him, and see whether there were Humour in 'him?

'Next moment he finds himself presented to the party; and 'especially by name to-Blumine! Peculiar among all dames 'and damosels, glanced Blumine, there in her modesty, like a star 'among earthly lights. Noblest maiden! whom he bent to, in body and in soul; yet scarcely dared look at, for the presence 'filled him with painful yet sweetest embarrassment.

'Blumine's was a name well known to him; far and wide was 'the fair one heard of, for her gifts, her graces, her caprices 'from all which vague colourings of Rumour, from the censures 'no less than from the praises, had our Friend painted for him'self a certain imperious Queen of Hearts, and blooming warm 'Earth-angel, much more enchanting than your mere white 'Heaven-angels of women, in whose placid veins circulates too 'little naphtha-fire. Herself also he had seen in public places: 'that light, yet so stately form; those dark tresses, shading a 'face where smiles and sunlight played over earnest deeps: but 'all this he had seen only as a magic vision, for him inaccessible, 'almost without reality. Her sphere was too far from his; how 'should she ever think of him; O Heaven! how should they so 'much as once meet together? And now that Rose-goddess sits in the same circle with him; the light of her eyes has smiled on 'him, if he speak she will hear it! Nay, who knows, since the 'heavenly Sun looks into lowest valleys, but Blumine herself 'might have aforetime noted the so unnotable; perhaps, from his 'very gainsayers, as he had from hers, gathered wonder, gathered 'favour for him? Was the attraction, the agitation mutual, 'then; pole and pole trembling towards contact, when once

rought into neighbourhood? Say rather, heart swelling in resence of the Queen of Hearts; like the Sea swelling when once near its Moon! With the Wanderer it was even so: as in heavenward gravitation, suddenly as at the touch of a Seraph's wand, his whole soul is roused from its deepest recesses; and all that was painful, and that was blissful there, dim images, vague feelings of a whole Past and a whole Future, are heaving in unquiet eddies within him.

Often, in far less agitating scenes, had our still Friend shrunk forcibly together; and shrouded up his tremours and flutterings, of what sort soever, in a safe cover of Silence, and perhaps of seeming Stolidity. How was it, then, that here, when trembling to the core of his heart, he did not sink into swoons, but rose into strength, into fearlessness and clearness? It was his guiding Genius (Dämon) that inspired him; he must go forth and meet his Destiny. Shew thyself now, whispered it, or be forever hid. Thus sometimes it is even when your anxiety becomes 'transcendental, that the soul first feels herself able to transcend 'it; that she rises above it, in fiery victory; and, borne on new'found wings of victory, moves so calmly, even because so rapidly, 'so irresistibly. Always must the Wanderer remember, with a 'certain satisfaction and surprise, how in this case he sat not 'silent, but struck adroitly into the stream of conversation; ' which thenceforth, to speak with an apparent not a real vanity, he may say that he continued to lead. Surely, in those hours, 'a certain inspiration was imparted him, such inspiration as is 'still possible in our late era. The self-secluded unfolds himself ' in noble thoughts, in free, glowing words; his soul is as one sea of light, the peculiar home of Truth and Intellect; wherein also Fantasy bodies forth form after form, radiant with all pris'matic hues.'

It appears, in this otherwise so happy meeting, there talked one Philistine;' who even now, to the general weariness, was dominantly pouring forth Philistinism (Philistriositaten); little witting what hero was here entering to demolish him! We omit the series of Socratic, or rather Diogenic utterances, not unhappy in their way, whereby the monster, 'persuaded into silence,' seems soon after to have withdrawn for the night. Of which

'dialectic marauder,' writes our hero, 'the discomfiture was visibly felt as a benefit by most: but what were all applauses to the 'glad smile, threatening every moment to become a laugh, where 'with Blumine herself repaid the victor? He ventured to 'address her, she answered with attention: nay, what if there 'were a slight tremour in that silver voice; what if the red glow ' of evening were hiding a transient blush!

'The conversation took a higher tone, one fine thought called 'forth another: it was one of those rare seasons, when the soul 'expands with full freedom, and man feels himself brought near 'to man. Gaily in light, graceful abandonment, the friendly 'talk played round that circle; for the burden was rolled from 'every heart; the barriers of Ceremony, which are indeed the 'laws of polite living, had melted as into vapour; and the poor 'claims of Me and Thee, no longer parted by rigid fences, now 'flowed softly into one another; and Life lay all harmonious. 'many-tinted, like some fair royal champaign, the sovereign and 'owner of which were Love only. Such music springs from kind 'hearts, in a kind environment of place and time. And yet as 'the light grew more aerial on the mountain-tops, and the shadows 'fell longer over the valley, some faint tone of sadness may have 'breathed through the heart; and, in whispers more or less au'dible, reminded every one that as this bright day was drawing to'wards its close, so likewise must the Day of Man's Existence 'decline into dust and darkness; and with all its sick toilings, 'and joyful and mournful noises, sink in the still Eternity.

To our Friend the hours seemed moments; holy was he and 'happy the words from those sweetest lips came over him like 'dew on thirsty grass; all better feelings in his soul seemed to 'whisper: It is good for us to be here. At parting the Blu'mine's hand was in his: in the balmy twilight, with the kind 'stars above them, he spoke something of meeting again, which 'was not contradicted; he pressed gently those smali soft fingers, 'and it seemed as if they were not hastily, not angrily withdrawn.'

Poor Teufelsdröckh! it is clear to demonstration thou art smit: the Queen of Hearts would see a man of genius' also sigh for her; and there, by art magic, in that preternatural hour, has she bound and spell-bound thee. Love is not altogether a De

lirium,' says he elsewhere, yet has it many points in common therewith. I call it rather a discerning of the Infinite in the Finite, of the Idea made Real; which discerning again may be either true or false, either seraphic or demoniac, Inspiration or Insanity. But in the former case too, as in common Madness, it is Fantasy that superadds itself to sight; on the so petty domain of the Actual plants its Archimedes-lever, whereby to 'move at will the infinite Spiritual. Fantasy I might call the 'true Heaven-gate and Hell-gate of man: his sensuous life is but the small temporary stage (Zeitbühne) whereon thick-streaming 'influences from both these far yet near regions meet visibly, and act tragedy and melodrama. Sense can support herself handsomely, in most countries, for some eighteenpence a day; but for Fantasy planets and solar-systems will not suffice. Witness your Pyrrhus conquering the world, yet drinking no better 'red wine than he had before.' Alas! witness also your Dio'genes, flame-clad, scaling the upper Heaven, and verging towards Insanity, for prize of a high-souled Brunette,' as if the Earth held but one and not several of these!

He says that, in Town, they met again: 'day after day, like his heart's sun, the blooming Blumine shone on him. Ah! a little while ago, and he was yet in all darkness: him what Graceful (Holde) would ever love? Disbelieving all things, the 'poor youth had never learned to believe in himself. Withdrawn in proud timidity, within his own fastnesses: solitary from men, yet baited by night-spectres enough, he saw himself, ' with a sad indignation, constrained to renounce the fairest hopes of existence. And now, O now! "She looks on thee," cried he: "she the fairest, noblest; do not her dark eyes tell thee, thou 'art not despised? The Heaven's-Messenger! All Heaven's blessings be hers!" Thus did soft melodies flow through his heart; tones of an infinite gratitude; sweetest intimations that 'he also was a man, that for him also unutterable joys had been ' provided.

In free speech, earnest or gay, amid lambent glances, laugh'ter, tears, and often with the inarticulate mystic speech of Music; such was the element they now lived in; in such a many-tinted, radiant Aurora, and by this fairest of Orient Light-bringers

'must our Friend be blandished, and the new Apocalypse of Na"ture unrolled to him. Fairest Blumine! And, even as a Star. 'all Fire and humid Softness, a very Light-ray incarnate! Was 'there so much as a fault, a "caprice," he could have dispensed 'with? Was she not to him in very deed a morning-Star; did 'not her presence bring with it airs from Heaven? As from Eolean Harps in the breath of dawn, as from the Memnon's 'Statue struck by the rosy finger of Aurora, unearthly music was 'around him, and lapped him into untried balmy Rest. Pale Doubt fled away to the distance; Life bloomed up with happi'ness and hope. The Past, then, was all a haggard dream; he 'had been in the Garden of Eden, then, and could not discern it' 'But lo now! the black walls of his prison melt away; the cap'tive is alive, is free. If he loved his Disenchantress? Ai 'Gott! His whole heart and soul and life were hers, but never had he named it Love: existence was all a Feeling, not yet 'shaped into a Thought.'

Nevertheless, into a Thought, nay into an Action, it must be shaped; for neither Disenchanter nor Disenchantress, mere 'Children of Time,' can abide by feeling alone. The Professor knows not, to this day, 'how in her soft, fervid bosom, the Lovely 'found determination, even on hest of Necessity, to cut asunder 'these so blissful bounds.' He even appears surprised at the 'Duenna Cousin,' whoever she may have been, in whose meagre, 'hunger-bitten philosophy, the religion of young hearts was, from 'the first, faintly approved of.' We, even at such distance, can explain it without necromancy. Let the Philosopher answer this one question: What figure, at that period, was a Mrs. Teufelsdrockh likely to make in polished society? Could she have driven so much as a brass-bound Gig, or even a simple ironspring one? Thou foolish absolved Auscultator,' before whom lies no prospect of capital, will any yet known religion of young hearts' keep the human kitchen warm? Pshaw! thy divine Blumine, when she resigned herself to wed some richer,' shews more philosophy, though but a woman of genius,' than thou, a pretended man.

Our readers have witnessed the origin of this Love-mania, and with what royal splendour it waxes, and rises. Let no one ask us