The Countess fell, apparently lifeless, and it was long before she recovered herself. It was the sister of her late husband, who had thus unconsciously been thrown in her way. When in private, she questioned her closely, found that she was all that remained of the family, and determined to adopt her. She kept her resolution, and never parted from her, till one day, some years after the incidents we are narrating, a modest artisan of Leipsic waited on her, and acquainted her with the circumstance of an engagement having existed between him and Antonia for ten years, and that he had now, by dint of saving and industry, acquired the five hundred dollars, necessary for their setting up an establishment, and that he hoped Antonia might have half as much more.

On questioning Antonia, she acknowledged the soft impeachment, and spoke so favourably of her affianced, that the Countess gave her consent to their marriage, and astonished the young couple, by giving them an equal number of Friedrich d'ors, as they had saved of dollars, for a marriage portion.

A tablet was erected over the Count's remains, containing, according to his own request, the following short inscription:

READER,

BE NOT LIKE ME,

BUT LIVE FOR HIM, WHO DIED
FOR YOU."

CHAPTER XX.

"Ohe! jam satis――."

FORRESTER'S health had become perfectly re-established, and he was accepted by the Countess as an escort on her return to Frankfort. Howard gave him letters, authorising him to arrange all the affairs of the executorship, singly, and then set off with the eccentric Smith on a tour, the latter having premised that they were to join some of his family, whom he expected to find at Zurich.

The family alluded to, was that of Mrs. Fortescue. Howard was well received by them, and what, with scrambling among the mountains, sketching, botanizing, poetizing, and, we are afraid, flirtizing a little these Irishmen are sad fellows the intimacy became so close, that after some months, when Howard had left them, the fates of two of the party were settled for life, and the fortunes of the other two. A short conversation which occurred at Rotterdam, previous to their embarkation for England, will explain this, better than anything else.

Old Smith was sitting in the window of the drawingroom, No. 5, of the Lion d'or, with his wooden leg on the balcony outside, puffing forth volumes of smoke

from a huge Meerschaum, and occasionally asking a question, or directing a remark to the two ladies who were working at a table, a little farther back in the

room.

"Dora, my dear," said the smoker, addressing the elder of the two ladies, "here we are, setting off again for Old England to-morrow, having made a "grand tour," and just coming back as we went, only so many months older, without a prospect of getting rid of this hoyden, who is no good but for mending a few holes. for Old Uncle, and fetching him his tobacco-box, or Beutel, (for that's the fashion now,) and wearing out ever so many wooden legs for him, dragging him so many miles every day to see this, that, and the other, and never giving the poor feeble old man a moment's rest. Now, if I could only find some really proper fellow, with a heart and brains enough to manage her properly, I would not mind making him my heir, and imposing the burden of my three quarters on him for society during part of the year, just to vex the slut for sticking to me so long"

"Does your pipe need some fresh Kanaster, Uncle mine," cried Miss Fortescue, "that your thoughts are running on such strange subjects. I fear the smoke has reached your brain, and wrapped it in most dutch-like and impermeable clouds. Now, I propose an amendment-viz: that a certain Old Fogy, who enjoys the distinguished honour of being my uncle, should make me, in place of any of the eligibles, his heir, and leave me to choose for myself in the other matter."

“Well, suppose the amendment carried, what then ? Has my saucy niece cast her eyes on any one whom she would admit to share her smiles and fortune? Confess, Madcap, confess."

"Most Rev. Father Confessor," cried Clara, with a laugh, "I doubt there lives the Briton worthy of thine inestimable Clara's taper hand!"

"Briton !—Briton; I did not limit your tastes: I should not care were he a Pole, or an Esquimaux, or a South Sea Islander, provided he were a man all out, mind and body, right down, good solid stuff, able and willing to say and do what is right, in spite of the world, the flesh and the devil. What say you to an Irishman? He's not a Briton, you know.”

Clara blushed to the eyes, and the smart rejoinder she was preparing, died upon her lips.

“Ha ha! sly puss, does the scent lie there? Well, my dear Clara, the Old Fogy would not object even to an Irishman, provided you do not select Captain Rock, Lieutenant Starlight, or a joint of the Blustering Beggarman's tail. I positively command you not to aspire to such distinction; and I think my quiet Dora here, will join me in that. But to the point. What do you think of the last specimen of Hibernianism we have seen, the lad Howard. Come, come, if you blush in that awfully rose-affronting manner, I'll ask no more questions. So now, like a darling girl, as you are, get your bonnet, for I'd like to stroll once more into the flower market, and compare my British rose with these foreign productions."

Here the fond uncle imprinted a kiss on the cheek of

his beautiful niece, and both felt assured that they perfectly understood one another.

When Clara had left the room, Mr. Smith said to his sister, with a knowing look

"Congratulate me, my dear Dora, for being a good matchmaker. Howard is a fine fellow, manly and earnest, and just the one likely to make a spirited girl like Clara, happy: notwithstanding his enthusiasm, he is steady as a rock, so is Clara, with all her spirits ; what say you, Dora ?"

Mrs. Fortescue answered, that she had no wish on earth now, but to see her daughter happily settled, and if her brother's surmises proved correct, and that a solid affection existed between the young people, they should meet with no opposition from her. "But," she added, "my good brother must not hurry on matters; let a little time prove the sincerity and constancy of both, and then I care not how soon my share of their inheritance falls to them."

Three years subsequent to this conversation, a very portly old gentleman might have been seen sitting on the low sea wall of the Villa Reale, at Naples, amusing himself by throwing carlini into the water, for some dozen lazzaroni to dive after, and laughing heartily at the fierce struggles, beneath the clear blue element, of these semi-amphibious specimens of humanity. A closer inspection discovered a wooden leg protruding from the loose trowsers of the old gentleman, and on turning his full face to the observer, it was evident that a very great obliquity of vision marred a handsome