which was saved from the wreck of the rest of his fortune by being invested in the British funds. This was all he had; for the worthy old gentleman scorned to enlist himself among the crowd of those who claimed and received from the British government remuneration for losses which it is shrewdly suspected some of them never sustained. There were few means and opportunities of acquiring a liberal edu NOT a hundred miles from the famous city of Gotham, on the margin of a little lake of pure, transparent water, and white sandy shores, resided Mr. Gilbert Mervin, a respectable gentleman of more than competent estate, and descended from a family of some pretensions, both in the old and new world. In the former, one of his ancestors, or at least one of the name, had been associated with the famous Johnny Armstrong, whose "Last Good Night" forms the sub-cation at that time in any of the British colonies, ject of a famous old ballad, in many of those exploits which led him to glory and the gallows. In the new, the family could boast of a president of his majesty's council, a collector of customs, and a recorder under the old colonial government. There was another historical character of the same name and blood, a gallant officer under Washington, who fell at the head of his regiment at Monmouth; but as, with this single exception, the Mervins were all stanch loyaliststhey never boasted of this achievement. Mr. Mervin always called the General Mr. Washington, though in his heart he could not but admire the man who not only freed his country but left her free; whose patriot- | ism had equally sustained the ordeal of adversity and prosperity, and who stands before the world so free not only from the stain, but the very imputation of crime, that even those who abhor the cause he espoused, reverence the hero through whose talents and virtues it triumphed. At the commencement of the Revolution, the father of Mr. Mervin-the collector of the customs-took sides with the loyalists, whether from motives of gratitude, from principle, or from interest, will be best decided by the sequel. It is sufficient to say that, by choosing this course, he eventually forfeited a large property, and, with his only son, became an exile. He retired to that paradise of loyality, Nova Scotia, where he subsisted on the interest of a moderate sum and young Gilbert Mervin received but indifferent training. Neither was he, in truth, a very promising genius, to remedy what had been denied by circumstances. But nature had kindly made amends for all these deficiencies by giving him a letter of recommendation to my Lady Fortune, which answered every purpose. He grew up to be one of the handsomest men of the day, and possessed a voice that might corrupt a saint, much more a sinner. He was, therefore, all but irresistible, for the eye and the ear are the two great leading-strings of the grown up children of this world, most especially that portion which is said to have been last created, as the learned Palafergus supposes, from always having the last word. The return of peace brought back the elder Mervin and his son to the United States, where the former lived several years solacing himself with predicting the failure of the experiment of self government and the speedy return of the rebellious children to the bosom of their benign mother. He chuckled over the great controversy between New York and Vermont, and Shay's Rebellion, but never lived to see his prophecy fulfilled. The good man, for such he was, departed in peace, rested from his labors, and his works followed him; for a judicious and learned dissertation which he wrote on the propriety of restoring confiscated estates has never come to light. The son walked in the footsteps of the father, and inherited not only his little property in the British | young people are launched upon their destined elefunds but likewise his inspiration. The decent com- ment, the ocean of life. The daughter was called forts of life were at his command, but nothing more. after the mother, who was named in honor of King He vegetated about town until he became incapacitated George; and the son after the father, who was namefor any useful occupation, and was gradually running sake to the first of the family, a light-fingered wight to seed, when his excellent friend, my Lady Fortune, who is celebrated in a rare ballad, supposed to be very one day bribed Dan Cupid-who has lately become ancient, as having robbed a henroost on the Scottish a distinguished member of the Board of Brokers-to | border, and carried off divers chickens, notwithstandlaunch his sharpest arrow into the very heart of Missing the dogs barked, and the hens cackled most voGeorgiana Gammerton, one of the greatest heiresses ciferously. Gilbert was just out of college, and the extant in the city. daughter had completed the routine of superficial ac The course of Love ran very smooth on this occa-complishments usually acquired at fashionable female sion. Georgiana was her own mistress, having arrived at years of discretion; and there was nothing so repulsive about her, as not to be overcome by the great counteracting principle of money. It is true, nature had not made her of the choicest materials, and education had done its best to make worse what was originally none of the best. She was, however, a passable sort of a woman, and, as might be said in nautical phrase, made up for the deficiency of her hull by the weight of her metal. As she was, Gilbert Mervin married her in haste, and whether he repented at leisure may perhaps be gathered from the sequel of our story. Among the rest of the great property which the benign Georgiana bestowed on her husband, exclusive of the very considerable portion settled on herself, was the country-seat, where we first introduced Mr. Mervin to the reader's acquaintance, and where they usually spent more than half the year. It was at a sufficient distance from the city, to preclude that pestiferous and diabolical class of tormentors of us miserable sinners, called "droppers in," and, without being gloomy or solitary, was quiet, retired, and remote from all contact with the busy, noisy world. It was fair enough to inspire the poet, and sufficiently picturesque to enchant the painter. The little lake, whose waters were crystal and whose banks all woods and meadows, made a fine curve in front of the house, and left a spacious lawn, interspersed with many of those magnificent elms, and plane trees, which never grow to such majestic size, except on the primitive soil where they were planted by nature. In the rear was a mountain fretted with rocks and frowning in rugged grandeur; in some places faced with perpendicular precipices, in others clothed with summer forests and wintry evergreens. It was quite a paradise, but the Adam and Eve had long since been tempted by the serpent, and eaten of the fruit of the tree of knowledge. We do not mean to say that they were absolutely wicked without any counterbalancing virtues, for we believe such monsters, like all others, to be very rare in real life; but they had been deeply soiled by those vanities and temptations of the world which equally beset the rich and the poor. They had, in short, committed the fatal error of adopting a false standard of happiness, and looked for it in those enjoyments which can be bought with money, instead of in the practice of those virtues that are rewarded by feelings which no wealth can buy. At the period in which our story commences, a son and daughter were approaching the usual period when seminaries. The good parents, considering that Gilbert would have an ample fortune in good time, and that Georgiana was the heiress of a rich old grandmother, cordially agreed that it was quite unnecessary for the one to study a profession, or the other to acquire any thing useful. Such being the case, Gilbert, having soon exhausted the amusements of the country, paid a visit to the city, where he fell in with a classmate on the point of making a tour in Europe. Gilbert was at once inspired with the same idea, and, having communicated it to his parents, they, after due consideration, acceded to his wishes, and he, in good time, set out on his travels with a liberal allowance. The arrangement of our story requires that we should follow him for the present. Paris being the pole star of all fashionable travelers, the young gentlemen made their way thither as fast as possible, and lost no time in availing themselves of the variety of amusements afforded by that vast emporium of important trifles. Of its really valuable institutions, its libraries, and other various objects of liberal and enlightened curiosity they thought little and knew nothing. For awhile they hunted in couples, but, happening to differ in regard to the comparative merits of two famous restaurateurs, a coolness ensued; they gradually drew off from each other, convinced that there was an irreconcilable difference in their tastes, and that they could not live happily together. We have never learned how the other young gentleman made up for the loss of his companion, but Gilbert was extremely fortunate, in soon after forming an intimacy with a very distinguished nobleman who had lately made his appearance in Paris, and become a frequent visiter at the toilet of an American lady, who greatly preferred a residence in a hotel up four pair of stairs in Paris, to her own comfortable, nay splendid, house in one of the most pleasant cities of the United States. As we are about to introduce the lion, it is proper we should be a little particular in giving some account of his birth, parentage and education. Count Maximilian Schinschlinger, according to what could be gathered from occasional hints and outgivings, was certainly born somewhere, and of a very ancient and illustrious family, being descended from one of the three sons that accompanied their father Noah in the ark, but which of them is somewhat doubtful. As, however, the count was not very communicative on the subject of his family affairs, it is proper that we should undertake the task of introducing him to our readers. In the famous country of Dalmatia, which lies on the eastern borders of the Adriatic, and is renowned for many things utterly forgotten in history and tradition, stands a city known by the name of Spalatro, in which are an abundance of honest people, and a great many rogues. Bordered by the Adriatic on one hand, and the wild, half savage province of Morlachia on the other, and, withal, under the dominion of the Emperor of Germany, the inhabitants are somewhat like our ancient Mississippi navigators, half horse, half alligator, with a dash of aquafortis. They partake of the vivacity of the Italian, the gravity of the German, and the wild, undisciplined ferocity of the Morlachian. They love music and tobacco, and are somewhat revengeful, after the manner of barbarians. Count Maximilian was born in the city of Spalatro, of parents concerning whose character and lineage we can say little, and that little not much to their credit. They kept a small public house, where they sold bad wine at a high price, and entertained not the very best company. It will be conceived by the judicious reader, who ferrets out the secret of a story teller before he can disclose it himself, that Count Schinschlinger was not noble by birth. He achieved his title through a great exploit which, if the aforesaid judicious reader will only have a little patience, we will detail in good time, greatly to his satisfacton. Count Maximilian, wose real name was Knim Trau, had reached the age of thirteen, or perhaps fourteen, in which time he had completed his education, and become almost as great a rogue as his father, when an incident happened that gave a decided turn to his fate. A dispute took place in the little tavern which ended in a broil, the result of which was the death of one of the combatants, and the maiming of two or three others. The house was in the suburbs of the city, the time midnight, and the family had always been on the best terms with those watchful children of the night who ought to be deified as the gaurdians of cities, and placed side by side in the Pantheon with Somnus, Morpheus, and the dozing deities. It was of consequence a favorable period for decamping, and, as Signor Trau had not sufficient effects even to bribe a Dalmatian justice, he adopted the sudden resolution to beat a retreat, which he did with the signora, the future lion, and a purse containing the sum total of all his honest earnings. Justice does not travel in steamboats or railroad cars in Dalmatia, and the fugitives succeeded in reaching the little Island of Brazza, lying off the coast at no great distance, whence, not conceiving himself altogether safe, Signor Trau took the earliest opportunity of embarking for Venice, which he reached in safety. ble company. He also accomplished himself in music, having inherited from nature a fine taste for that charming art, whose influence while it softens the manners, at the same time awakens the imagination, and disposes the feelings to indolent contemplation, or dangerous indulgence. He learned to touch the guitar with exquisite skill, and, having a voice of great compass and sweetness, lured more than one Venetian maiden into the coils of the serpent. But the purse of Signor Trau being too often drawn upon without being replenished, at length became so nearly exhausted that the future lion of the new world was under the disagreeable necessity of attaching himself to a gondola, where he soon became distinguished for his music, his skill at the oar, and the infinite discretion with which he conducted those midnight mysteries for which that city is so distinguished, at least in romances. He became a great favorite with the amorous signors; and acquired by this frequent association a habit and capacity of so closely imitating that indefinable "I don't know what" which is so often boasted to be inimitable, that proved of infinite service to him in his subsequent career. It was a great pity Knim was a predestined rogue, both in spirit and in grain, for otherwise his favorable prospects might have made him honest. But his bump of acquisitiveness, which was enormously developed, decided his fate; he became a thief in spite of himself, and sometimes, it is said, actually rose in his sleep to pick his own pocket. After following this agreeable course of life some eight or ten years, he one night had the good fortune to be engaged by the young Count Maximilian Schinschlinger, a wealthy maghar of Hungary, who visited Venice in the course of his travels, and, according to invariable custom, fell deeply in love with a signora, with black eyes and long eyelashes. Knim on this occasion so delighted the count with his music, his sprightliness, and the dexterity with which he accomplished his missions, that he made such overtures as induced him to abandon his gondola and attach himself to the maghar as musician, confidential valet, and jack of all trades. In this capacity he accompanied his master in an extensive tour through Italy, Switzerland, Spain, and England, whose respective languages he acquired with his usual facility, and in which he made himself so useful, as well as agreeable, that the count became greatly attached to him. He employed Knim in all his affairs, open as well as secret; entrusted him with the receipt, custody and disbursement of his money, and was cheated with such a discreet moderation that he never indulged the slightest suspicion that his accomplished factotum was not a paragon of honesty. The course of the count's wanderings at length led him to the East. He visited Egypt, Syria, and Constantinople, passing through Asia Minor to Smyrna, whence it was his purpose to embark for Venice, on his way to Paris, where he intended to remain a con Here young Knim, who was quite a promising genius, by the quickness of his parts, and a facility in acquiring every thing but good habits, improved apace. He, in a great measure, got rid of his jargon of mixed Italian, German, and Molachian, and acquired a habit of speaking pure Venetian. He became quite familiar with the names of Titian, Paul Vero-siderable time. nese, and other great masters of the Venetian schools, Here, however, fate and Knim overtook him. He whose fame has descended even to the vulgar, and was suddenly and severely attacked by a fever, whose might have passed for a connoisseur in very respecta-progress was so rapid that, in twenty-four hours, he fell into a raging delirium. Previous to this, however, he had transacted some business relating to bills of exchange with an old American merchant, long settled at Smyrna, which not however being completed when the count fell ill, he sent his son to ascertain the reason why he had not called pursuant to appointment. Finding him so extremely ill, the young man proffered his good offices, and regularly called two or three times a day to make inquiries and minister his attentions. The count, being the proprietor of vast estates in Hungary, had always in his possession letters of credit to a large amount on different places which he contemplated visiting, and Knim's fingers had often itched to get hold of them. But hitherto he had found no opportunity of appropriating the papers either advantageously or with safety. The moment however seemed now to present itself. The count was in a remote corner of the world, where he had not a single acquaintance but the American merchant and his son; he was at a great distance from home, and had been so long absent that his family, consisting only of distant relatives, must have almost forgotten him, especially as he never wrote to them; and there was at this period no imperial consul at Smyrna to take charge of his effects in case he died. All these favorable circumstances occurred to the quick conception of our hero, and he determined to avail himself of this providential occasion. In this he was incidentally greatly aided by the count himself, whose delirium had at length subsided into almost infantine weakness, from which he only awakened at intervals for a few moments. In one of these he alluded to the probability of his speedy dissolution, and, referring to the custom of the Turkish authorities of laying hold of the effects of deceased strangers, desired Knim to send in his name for the son of the American merchant immediately. On his arrival the count instructed him to draw up an instrument in writing, consigning the sole care and direction of transmitting his effects, among which were many valuable jewels, to his family in Hungary, to his servant Knim, whom he complimented in the warmest terms for his long and faithful services. He also made his will, in which he left Knim a handsome sum, and both papers were afterward duly authenticated by the American merchant, who was consul for the United States. Having satisfied himself that life was forever extinguished, Knim suddenly uttered a great outcry which aroused the people in the house in which the count lodged, and then ran out to call the physician, an old Turk with a long beard, and his master's friend, the young American. "What!" said the physician, rubbing his eyes, "Is the infidel, thy master, dead? Mashallah! I thought he was recovering-his fever was gone, his pulse getting stronger, and every thing seemed going on very well. But there is no resisting one's destiny. Are you sure he is dead?" Knim gave the assurance. "Well, then, I can do him no good," and the doctor returned quietly to his couch. The American came in all haste, and seemed surprised at the suddenness of the event, concerning which he questioned Knim rather closely. But he had prepared his story, and his account was so natural as to quiet all but a latent suspicion which haunted the young man at intervals a considerable time afterward. He took an opportunity to examine the body, but life had been so easily extinguished that no mark of violence appeared. The conduct of Knim subsequent to the death of the count was consummate. He spoke of his late master with the most profound respect and affection, and never mentioned him without tears in his eyes. He consulted the consul and his son on all occasions; asked their advice as to the most eligible mode of reaching Hungary, and especially whether it was not advisable to destroy the letters of credit lest they might chance to fall into the hands of improper persons. In short, the worthy old consul more than once observed to his son what a faithful creature he was, and the son almost became a convert to his opinion. All things being in readiness, pursuant to the advice of the merchant, and of his own plans with which it exactly coincided, our hero embarked in a Greek vessel for Venice, whence he announced his intention of taking the most direct route to Hungary. His voyage was destitute of interest and adventure, and his stay at Venice short. He neither renewed his acquaintance with any of his former associates, or inquired for his father and mother, as a renewal of their acquaintance might interfere with the success of a magnificent plan he had now brought to maturity. It was perhaps as well that his curiosity remained so quiescent, since he would merely have learned that Signor Trau had been sentenced to the galleys for life, and the signora to the penitentiary till she reformed, which was equivalent to the same fate with her husband. Knim remained incog. at Venice, traveled incog., not toward Hungary but That night the count was overpowered with a more than ordinary degree of weakness and drowsiness, owing probably to his previous exertions. He sometimes fell into a doze, during which he muttered unintelligibly, and from which he would awake and stare around apparently almost without conscious-Paris, by a circuitous and unfrequented route, and ness. The faithful Knim sat watching him alone till midnight came, when the count seemed to be sleeping more soundly than usual. He arose without making the least noise, he leant over the unconscious victim for one moment, then, with the quickness of lightning, placed his hand on his mouth while he planted his knee strongly in the pit of his stomach. The already waning and weakened energies of life yielded to this twofold assault, and the unfortunate count died without a struggle or a groan. suddenly burst upon the Parisian world as Count Maximilian Schinschlinger, a wealthy maghar of the kingdom of Hungary, which, to the people of Paris, is pretty nearly out of the world. Nor was he without credentials to establish his claim to this distinction. He had the count's cabinet of letters, his jewels, and his bills of credit. What could such a clever fellow require more to establish his identity? Nobody doubts a man's pretensions until he is fairly convicted of being without money. Nor was he so imprudent as |