I fear would not avail me ;-honest man-he was an excellent judge of broad cloth notwithstanding." We parted, and I proceeded forward till I came to another gate.

Here I found some difference of appearance from those which I had already passed. There was an air of respect and obsequiousness in the style of the attendance. Two servants in black liveries stood behind the gate, and, as I approached, they opened it wide enough for a carriage and four to pass through. "Ah," said I, "this is the right gate after all. What on earth have I been running after all this time?-These men have discernment, they can read desert in the countenance." I stepped up with an air of easy superiority, the servants bowing meanwhile, and one accosted me with "My Lord-Lord"-" No, no," replied the other, "his Grace, the Duke of "-"Gentlemen," replied I, "you mistake, I am Mr.”—“ Mr.” replied both together, with startling emphasis-" next gate!-Mr. indeed!"— and they turned upon their heels, tucked their hands under their coat tails, and walked backwards and forwards with inimitable nonchalance, not forgetting to shut the gate with a degree of violence proportionate to their former civility. I might have saved myself this last mortification, if I had looked up at my approach, instead of my retreat, for over the entrance I saw in letters of gold,—“ Nobility Gate," inscribed on a shield, its point resting on a scroll bearing this motto,-" Quo sanguine cœtus," literally,-"From what blood are you descended?"

I confess I did not take this last repulse much to heart; for, as I was never very desirous of thrusting myself officiously into places where I did not think myself justly entitled to go, I had only to regret my want of forethought, in neglecting to read the inscription as I advanced.

I now walked leisurely forward to the next gate, which I found in a very dilapidated condition, and the path within it stony, rugged, and steep. It appeared as if it were seldom traversed except just within the entrance. I looked up. It was labelled "Poet's gate." I viewed the path with reverence, but my vocation did not lie that way. I therefore passed it, and sought another, more congenial to my notions.

By this time my strength and spirits began to flag. At each gate to which I successively came, I found some inscription which denoted that it was not for me. For, Mr. Editor, you shall understand, that I am really a modest man, and know my own deficiencies. In vain I looked for such words as, unimpeachable character-sound education-merit-worth-virtue. I passed entrance after entrance, and found such as the following:beauty-accomplishments-great expectations. Weary, at length, with the useless attempt to reach the temple by the beaten path, I determined to strike one out for myself, and despite of obstacles, to reach the top by my own exertions. I scrambled, therefore, over the fence, and carefully plodded onwards, patiently removing every impediment, and pressing steadily towards the temple, which was ever in view, until I reached the boundary fence of the gardens. Here I paused to take breath, and to survey what was going on within;-but first I observed, that although I had now got so near the seats of popular applause, there was still a broad gap between me and the gardens. This gap, or fosse, surrounded the whole of the grounds, and was considered impassable, except at certain places where there were bridges across, guarded by officers of both sexes under various

titles, but generally implying critics or censors, if men—or chaperons, if women; without whose acquiescence and assistance, admission could not be obtained; and who, true to the usages of time immemorial, were sure to refuse it to all but those who should approach by the direct road. I then looked below at the multitude, and,pleased myself with the idea that I was exalted so far above their level, even though they knew it not. Still, however, I was not within the desired precincts. I disdained to go back after winning my way so far,-I saw that the officers had firm possession of the regular passes, and was neither willing nor indeed able to bribe them to admit me. Once or twice I resolved to attack them on their own ground, and "force per force" to gain my admission. But when I looked upon the vantage ground they had obtained, and considered that in all probability they would make common cause of it, and with united strength might hurl me back, perhaps, to the very verge of the ascent-arrested my warlike thoughts. The ditch itself—aye—it was broad, and deep; but, as I viewed it more narrowly, the difficulty seemed less and less, to vault clear over it. To fail, was utter destruction; but to succeed, was to enter upon a state for which my soul now longed with tenfold eagerness. Again, and again, I surveyed the frightful abyss,-half resolved-yet fearful-and saying to myself in words somewhat like those of Sir Walter Raleigh,

"Fain would I leap, yet fear I to fall,"

when suddenly my eye fell upon one within,-the gaze, the admiration of all the rest-one that had long been the idolized of my own bosom. If beauty, if accomplishments, could win a passage to these envied mansions— surely none, like she, could have found an easy passage. She was listening, with pleased but placid countenance, to the various compliments with which the lively or the witty were honoring themselves by repeating to her-and as she moved along,

"Grace was in all her steps-heaven in her eye

In every gesture, dignity and love."

As she roved about, careless of the ceaseless hum of admiration with which her ears were assailed, at length she got sight of me. What were my raptures upon perceiving the brightened expression of her countenance,— the speaking approbation of her eye, as she saw me so near to the temple of popular applause. I could see her lips move-she beckons—she speaksshe invites me-she seems to mock the apparent width of the gap;—again I hear her voice-sweeter than the music of the spheres-away, away, there are no longer difficulties! I sprung like lightning over the fosse, and upon alighting on the opposite side, I fell, stunned, to the ground.

Upon opening my eyes, I beheld-my servant, who was calling loudly upon me he had already called twice. He presented to me a paper, saying "Mr. Snipps, sir, the tailor, would feel greatly obliged by your settling this account. The bill's receipted, sir."

I had been in a dream all this while, Mr. Editor;-I now send you the relation of it. If this will do any thing towards procuring me the distinction I covet-well. If not, all I can say is that-it will add one to the numerous list of failures, but will not alter the opinion which modest assurance gives me of my own merits, nor prevent the continuance of the hope that, in this world of progression, the time shall arise when a generation shall weep for the neglect of an enlightened and praiseworthy candidate for POPULAR APPLAUSE.

THE EXILE.

CHAP. V.

Ah! you never yet

Were far away from Venice, never saw
Her beautiful towers in the receding distance,
While every furrow of the vessel's track

Seemed ploughing deep into your heart; you never
Saw day go down upon your native spires
So calmly with its gold and crimson glory,
And after dreaming a perturbed vision

Of them and theirs, awoke and found them not.

THE TWO FOSCARI.

THERE is not perhaps one, among all the properties peculiar to the human mind, which presents itself more constantly to the philosophic observer, than the tendency of all our race to undervalue the blessings which they actually possess; while they are ever aspiring after some remote vision of happiness, after some future period, which is to crown all their labors with success, to steep all their sorrows in forgetfulness,-to repay all their sufferings by the accomplishment of every half-imagined wish; a period which is to be

the first

"Of days no more deplored or curst,
"But bright, and long, and beckoning years,
"Seen dazzling through the mist of tears."

Never satisfied with the pleasures which we are enjoying day by day,— scarcely even aware that the free air which braces our nerves, and ministers to the gratification of all our senses,-the light which gladdens our eyes,— the health which bounds in our limbs,--much more the rare advantages of fortune, talents, fame,-the sympathies of faithful friendship,-the mutual affections of those whom we adore,-are favors vouchsafed to us by the especial beneficence of an all-bounteous Providence,-favors which would be hailed with rapture and pious gratitude by thousands of our fellow men. In order to measure, and fully appreciate the extent and value of any treasure, that treasure must have been removed from us,-removed forever --and then in the loneliness of our bereavement shall we confess that we were blessed, and knew it not,---that we were endowed with happiness beyond the attainment of our brethren, and yet felt no thankfulness in our hearts towards the Giver of every good and perfect gift.

There is assuredly no feeling more natural to every living and thinking being, than the love of his native land; prevailing with a sway no less powerful amidst the thirsty deserts of the torrid, and endless winter of the frigid zones, than among the genial climes and fertile plains of more temperate regions.--Yet even this all-engrossing love can never be felt in its true character, unless through the medium of absence ;--nor do we ever fully know the deep hold, which is exercised upon our affections by the green hills of our childhood,---the quiet woods and waters, by which we have wandered,-the altar at which we have lisped our earliest prayers,--the home of our first and dearest friends, --till we have seen the very shores VOL. 1. 30

of that loved land, sinking into the haze of the horizon, separated from our impotent yearnings by the wide and trackless surface of the ocean.

Even when the term of our absence is to be but brief,---the object of our departure but the search of pleasure,---our actions, our motions subject to no control but our own will,---still there must ever arise a sad, and sickening feeling in our souls,---a sensation as though we were severed from the companion of our choice, or the wife of our bosom---as we gradually lose sight of that country, which must ever---though we see it no more--be to our memories a spot hallowed by the influence of early habits, endeared by the tenderest fancies, second in our affections to her only who rejoiced in our young pleasures, and soothed the imaginary sorrows of our way ward infancy.---What then must be the pangs of him who gazes on the crowded wharves, the forests of shipping, the tall spires receding behind him,---who ---after these are swallowed up in the obscurity of distance---still watches the familiar mountains and indistinct features of the coast, as friends whom he has known and venerated from the hour of his birth, and whose dear countenances he shall behold no more: Who---in addition to all these afflictions---sorrows over fortunes, blighted by some unforeseen reverse,---reputation, blasted by unmerited reproach,-- companions, long trusted and now ---when for the first time tried---found wanting ;---and who, when he turns his weary senses from the contemplation of the gloomy present, can find no glimpse, however remote, of future prosperity; no prospect, save that of a toilsome life, uncheered by the social endearments of a family,---a homeless death-bed, unrelieved by the care of one faithful follower,---and a foreign grave, far removed from the scenes of his recollections, and the bones of his forefathers.

Such thoughts as these might perhaps have been working in the mind of Harlande, as he stood on the vessel's taffrail, silently watching her progress from all that he held dear.---The decks were thronged with passengers, some sorrowful indeed at the last farewell, but all high in hope, and cheerful in the anticipation of a favorable voyage; the English adventurer, about to seek his fortunes in the wide field of the new world, had embraced his weeping relatives, had waved his mute farewell to their repeated signals, and had now resigned his fancy to some airy vision of rapidly acquired wealth, and a speedy return to his native village. The American, bound homewards from his visit to another hemisphere, had tendered his grateful adieux to some newly acquired, but already valued, friend, and was now looking forward to the wished meeting with his unforgotten kinsmen. All else had been conducted on board the stately vessel, by some being who felt an interest in their movements, who was linked to them either by the ties of mutual interest, or the rarer bonds of familiarity and affection ;---all else had parted from some one to whom they might communicate their wishes, their joys, or their afflictions ;---while he, who most needed consolation,---banished for ever from home, and shut out from hope---he, whose heart-crushed and wounded as it was by the discovery of man's ingratitude---would still have bounded at the slightest demonstration of kindness, even from a stranger---he, who while he scorned the selfishness yearned for the love of his kind,---was suffered to depart upon his pilgrimage of wo, without one hand outstretched to meet his parting grasp, or one tongue to cry---" God speed you."

Dark, however, as were the meditations of his spirit, they had no visible effect on his outward demeanor; his countenance was, indeed, somewhat paler than common-there was a slight quivering about the muscles of his mouth, and a feverish irregularity in the step with which he paced the quarter-deck, widely different from the light, and even agility of his usual motion; still there was nothing which could have indicated to a superficial observer, or general acquaintance, that the mind of one, so thoroughly alive to all the bienséances of society, was racked by the wildest convulsions of anguish. Once, indeed, a gleam of wretchedness, so palpably distinct, shot across his speaking lineaments, that a bystander inquired whether he were not ill!-The captain, who had been making some trivial observations on the state of the weather, had turned from him, calling at the same time to the mate-" pass the word forward to the men there, Mr. Wilde, to give three cheers"-and in an instant the short "aye, aye, sir!" of the officer, was succeeded by the inspiriting clamor. It was that sound-the cheering cry of England, whether lending animation to the feast, or terror to the fray,-which now sunk upon his heart with a cold and chilling weight, conjuring up a momentary train of thoughts, so bitter, that the boasted stoicism of the youth was vainly taxed to preserve the self-imposed restraint of his grave aspect. A thousand times had his own voice mingled in that exulting shout;-a thousand times had he heard it pealing, in sportive emulation, from the banks of the silver Thames ;-in the fierce hurrahs of an angry mob, at the presence of some hated oppressor; or in the loyal thunders of the same multitude, when rejoicing at the presence of a popular monarch; but never had he heard it from any lips, save those of his countrymen. Now he stood beneath the folds of a flag, unsullied indeed, and respected; but that flag was not the ensign of his native England! Now he heard the repeated cheer, and that cheer was the offspring of joy!— joy, that they were flying from the land, to which his very heart-strings were attached; and this unfeeling-as it seemed to his excited imagination-this unfeeling demonstration of pleasure, was the blow which rent those strings asunder. Mastering himself in a moment's space, he replied courteously to the inquiries of the stranger, and returned to his station on the raised stern; nor did he move from thence, so long as his eyes could discern a light along the shore, or distinguish the outlines of the rock-bound coast, from the starless gloom of a November's sky. No attention was excited by his absence from table, as all attributed it to illness; but in truth, although he had scarcely ever felt before the heavings of the ocean, the sickness of his heart was sufficient to overpower the attack of that painful malady, which is so often seen to prostrate the strongest frames, on their first acquaintance with the wonders of the great deep. The breeze increased to a gale; the puny waves swelled into long and threatening ridges; the ship, which was nearly before the wind, rolled heavily in the trough of the sea; nor was there a single landsman on board who was not confined for days to his berth. Not so, Harlande: unused as he was to a nautical life, his disposition was of that kind which, in appearance at least, readily adapts itself to circumstances, and, before the second sun had set, he was as much at ease on deck,- -as far as relates to mere external appliances, as though he had been, from his youth upward, accustomed to the caprices of the stormy ocean. Courteous to all, yet familiar with