days, and remembered no fault in him who was her husband.

The twelfth hour had passed, yet still he came not-she laid down her work now wetted with tears, and crept to the door-she opened it, her hand was lingering on the latch, when she was rudely pushed aside by a man dripping with the rain, he threw himself into a chair and laughed-it was Ursenstein!

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"I have it! I have it!" he exclaimed, hugging closely something that he carried under his coat.

"What have you got, love?" gently inquired the wife.

That which will make me great! that which will make me rich!-It is here, here!" and he clasped it closer with a maniac ecstasy.

"What is it Ursenstein?"

"See! here! here!" and he drew from his breast the old man's violin. "Is it better than your own?" asked the astonished wife.

"Better!" and he shouted still more gleefully, "remember you not the Musician of our bridal?"-Madeline shuddered, and sighed. "It was his; and now it is mine!-my own!—and I can play upon it as he did."

Did he sell it you?"

Ay, I bought it with a price!—a price-shall I tell you what ?"-and he grasped both her hands with a frightful energy: Madeline turned pale and trembled, but she tried to smile, murmuring, Ay love, what was it?"

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The husband's eyes glared wolfishly into those of his wife.-She was fascinated by their horrible expression, and could not withdraw hers. Shall I tell you?" he roughly asked.-She could not answer, but she screamed when she saw that his face bore no longer the impress of human feeling, but reflected in all, save his age, the image of that hideous stranger whom she had seen for a moment only, yet never could forget there was the same sardonic sneer, the leaden visage, the same elf-locksand her hands were grasped by the fingers of a skeleton.

"Ursenstein! husband!" she exclaimed, sinking upon her knees at his feet, tell, in pity tell me, why this fearful mockery, this terrible change?”

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Change, what change?-am I not thy husband still-there is no change, save that I am now greater than before."

"Holy Virgin! Art thou mad?” exclaimed the distracted woman clinging to his knees. "Art thou ill, my husband?-Is thy brain right?-tell me, dearest hast thou pain, or ailing?-Dost thou want aught thy faithful wife can give thee?"

"Ay, by the foul fiend do I!-but I am not mad-nor sick-yet I shall be if-but away -no more!-to bed woman!-to bed!-keep thyself secure, and safe, d'ye hear! I'll not have thee frightened-no, no, not for the world!"

"In the name of all that is holy, what mean you?" implored the wife; for she saw that in his look, which told a dreadful purpose. He was silent, but his eyes spoke darkly. "If thou hast leagued with the evil one to destroy me! -if my blood be the purchase money of thine hellish instrument," exclaimed Madeline, rising in sudden indignation, "why then, may Heaven forgive thy sinful soul, thou wicked man, and receive me also to its mercy."

"No, no! not thy life, not thine Madeline," replied Ursenstein.

"Not mine!—not mine!—my infant's then?-my unborn, innocent child's?— oh thou cruel monster!-thou man with a stony heart!-Was it for this thy cruel mercy?-thou wouldst not have me terrified, lest my babe should die, and disappoint thee of thy prey!-Oh thou inhuman wretch! more savage than the beasts of the forest, for they love their young, protecting, not sacrificing them.-Oh God, God forgive thee!"

At the name of the Deity the viclin sent forth a dissonant shriek-such as had issued from it on the bridal night. Madeline stopped her ears, when she heard again that frightful discord, and she screamed.

"It is a fiend! a living fiend, that thou holdest to thine heart.—I tell thee it is a fiend, in the name of the Virgin strike it down!"

But Ursenstein still kept the horrible thing close to his breast, though his wife was writhing in convulsions at his feet.

Before the morning broke a lovely boy was born, whose smiling countenance bore no trace of his mother's anguish; but it was long before that miserable woman would look again upon Ursenstein. When he was permitted to approach, he had hidden his violin ; and

The child grew in beauty, and learned to lisp the name of both its parents. Madeline taught him to put up his hands, and cry "Father, dearest father! do not harm your own boy ;" and Ursenstein used to listen to his son. Once a tear fell upon the child's head, as thus he supplicated; and once he pushed aside the urchin's clustering curls, saying that he was like his mother. Then Madeline repented that she had suspected him of a wish to harm her darling, and she loved her husband better than before, because she alone loved him now. The peasants said that nothing human could alter a man as Ursenstein was altered, scrupling not to affirm that he held converse with evil spirits, because he had been heard to utter awful words; and a strange, shrill voice had answered, though none could sce a living creature near him. Ursenstein well knew that he was hated; but he smiled scornfully, and still played his wondrous violin, drawing forth such sounds, that travellers hearing them came nearer to his hut, forgetting their purposed journey while they listened; but ever when the strain ceased, they would hurry away, whispering, and name him as they went "The Demon Musician."

At last the neighbours would no longer sell him food, nor hold intercourse of any kind with one whom they considered accursed. His crops withered; his cattle died; and famine fell upon his ruined cottage. Madeline, too, grew faint and sick, with labouring to raise a little corn and fruit to furnish food for her child; but her husband offered no aid; he still kept ever playing on, or whispering to his unearthly instrument. When he ate he greedily watched Madeline and the boy, and seemed as he would tear the morsel from their mouths; and when she told him that their last loaf was eaten, he shouted a loud wild laugh, cowered over

his violin, and stared hungrily into the face of the child.

*

Three days of misery had passed,— Madeline had begged upon her knees at the thresholds of her former friends; she asked but a crust to save her infant-her dying boy! for she durst not name Ursenstein: but they drove her away with opprobrium, and bade her home to her demon-gifted husband. She came back despairing; the child was crouching among the ashes, digging the dirt from the hearth, and cramming it by handfuls into his mouth. The mother, when she saw his occupation, wept ; but the father grimly smiled;-that look was worse than the famine, and the miserable woman threw herself upon the bed, hiding her face, that the memory of it might pass away. Presently she heard her boy's convulsive shriek; she started up, the violin was beside him. Then, for that her hours were numbered, her visual organs strengthened, and it was given her to see the past and the present, with a clear, true sight. Her husband's rendezvous in the Black Forest appeared before her as in a picture; his unholy compact was revealed: and, when taught by such knowledge, she looked again toward her son. He was struggling with a monster who tempted him with food, which the famished child no sooner tried to grasp than it was withdrawn ; by which torture the victim being sorely vexed, the vile creature mocked him still more,-holding large pieces of meat and bunches of luscious fruit close to his lips; but as often as the infant opened his mouth, greedily endeavouring to seize the viands, they melted into air. At length, the enraged boy sprang up, caught the monster by the throat, and flung it back; but then, his feeble strength being utterly exhausted, he staggered and fell upon the ground a blackened corpse; upon which the fiend yelled, and jabbered, and clapped its hands, and crowed. The mother, when she beheld that sight, threw up her arms, calling aloud on Heaven for succour; then she lay awhile convulsed, and writhing in terrible agony; but when she heard her husband's horrid laugh, she laid down her head and died, for her heart was broken.

That night a tremendous crash awakened the villagers from their peaceful

sleep; upon hearing which they rushed out half attired upon the open green. The hut of Ursenstein, the musician, had fallen. A blue flame quivered around and about it; by whose light the crowd saw a dark, imp-like form seated on the summit of the ruins, chumping at a bone, which sometimes it wielded over its head, and sometimes gnawed like a voracious dog. Ursenstein was standing near with folded arms, calmly looking on; nor moved he for the execrations of the mob, who, terrified by the composure of the bereaved man, hastily dispersed to their several homes; the mothers clasping their children and muttering pious ejaculations; the fathers carefully closing their doors, that the foul fiend might find no en

trance.

What became of Ursenstein after that night the peasants never knew. The ruins mouldered untouched over the bodies of the mother and her child; and none dared after nightfall to pass that mournful sepulchre.

Suddenly, at the court of Wirtemberg, a rumour arose that a wonderful violinist had arrived, but where he had studied, or whence he came, none knew. His name was Wolstenbach; he proclaimed himself a German by birth, but from what part of the dominions he would not tell. "He was," he said, "a musician; and that was all that was requisite to be told he was content to abide a fair judgment."

His terms were excessive, and the professors of his art ridiculed the presumption of an unknown man ; but Wolstenbach only answered that " he knew his power," and still persisted in his demand: so he was rejected. But soon after, the neighbourhood where he lodged was filled with strange stories of the wonderful musician, for his music was heard in the dead of the night, and crowds congregated in the street, squeezing each other to get near his habitation. He lived scantily, and ate greedily. He had no society, and held no converse, except what was requisite to obviate the wants of nature; he looked upon all who approached him with suspicion, and appeared to be a creature apart from human sympathies. His instrument was the sole deposit of his thoughts, for he was often heard talking

to it, as if it could comprehend his words. Sometimes he would reproach it, calling it hard names and beating it; and when sounds came from it at each blow, he would exclaim, "Ay, fiend! cry and shriek, I owe thee something for thy luxurious feasting." Then would he clutch the instrument, playing as in a frenzy, making horrible yellings, and growlings, and shrill shrieks to issue from it, so that those who heard stopped their ears affrighted. At other times he would frolic with it, making it laugh and giggle like a tickled child; and the hearers could not forbear laughing also, it was so oddly comical; but all men agreed that he was a lunatic. Such rumours reaching the ears of the king, it was commanded that the stranger's terms should be accepted. A night was accordingly fixed for him to play in public; and when the morning of that day came the professors formed themselves into groups, and prepared to sneer at his rehearsal; but they were disappointed, for he would not practise with the band as others had done, but obliged them to await the evening for the gratification of their curiosity.

Night came the theatre was crowded to the ceiling; the king and the chief of his nobility were there. The higher order of professors were ranged upon thẹ stage. They were to open with a grand overture, and all the musical talent or judgment that resided within a day's journey round the metropolis, were to be found among the audience of that evening. The overture began-the spectators for they could scarcely be called listeners-waved to and fro uneasily. The musicians played divinely, for they exerted their best skill. At length the piece was finished, and a simultaneous movement among the auditors showed that expectation was wound up to the highest pitch. The professors saw this, and scarcely waiting for their accustomed applause, sidled into the best seats. They formed a sort of semicircle around the spot on which Wolstenbach was to stand. Some assumed the gravity of judges, others took snuff and smiled superciliously; while others again, more sanguine in their temperament, chuckled and nodded to their friends. At last, when all were arranged, the violinist appeared; he walked with an indescribably awkward

:

gait, strait down to the foot-lamps, and bowed. The audience rose up as by one effort; there was a stare of wonderment, then a burst of applause, though no one knew why he applauded that strange ungraceful effigy of a man, unless indeed his excessive ugliness was merit, in the estimation of the gaping multitude. The musicians bowed, and bowed again, but never smiled. Then he drew his bow across the strings, and music flowed like oil; he played on, and no one remembered that he was not handsome not a word was spoken, not a movement made: even the professors forgot to be angry, until the charm was dissolved and the melody had ceased. It was then that the applause broke forth louder, longer than before, for now they knew why, they were pleased. Wolstenbach received these honours without relaxing a muscle-he bowed to the audience, to the professors, but he never once looked up, for the ban was upon him, and he dared not lift his eyes to meet the glance of the bright, and the beautiful; so he huddled his instrument under his arm, and shuffled away with his uncouth lanky walk, while a thousand tongues pronounced him an inspired master, an impersonation of musical genius, and there was no more mention of his reputed madness.

Again and again he appeared, each time with added fame; riches poured on him like rain, but he abated nothing of his stern parsimony, nor of his desire for gain, because the vulture of avarice was ever gnawing in his bosom, as the famine had eaten into that of his boy. He travelled far, spreading his name from one kingdom to another; but the thought of his wife and his son never

left him: for though he knew that they were to die by his compact, he knew not that they were to die so fearfully. He had not felt sorrow for them then, but it was the only human feeling that clung to him after; for he despised the whole race of mankind, and while he greedily sought their admiration, he looked down upon them from his crime-won pinnacle, and hated them all. familiar by whose aid he excelled, and whom he was doomed ever to carry in his bosom, was no less an object of his disgust.

The

He could not forgive the past; and he resented the tauntings which the demon heaped upon him in private, for it was then that the vile creature had power to torture him.But when the musician's grasp was upon the strings of that magic violin, it became helpless in his hands, and he failed not to wreak upon it the vengeance of his moody humour. In the face of assembled crowds, when his hour of triumph was come, he fretted, and beat, and belaboured the fiend, whose shrieks and cries were but so many subjects of admiration to the wondering auditory.

Thus went Wolstenbach and his grim companion from court to court, every where received as the sovereign of his art; his super-human person every where engendering awful terror ;-his ceaseless avarice disgust,-his unrivalled skill compelling admiration:-envied by professors, protected by princes, lauded and supported by nobles and fair dames, who guessed not whence came the harmony which so much delighted, nor dreamt that they followed as a popular idol,-a DEMON MUFANCHETTE.

SICIAN.