here and there, till, like them, we bore us orderly to our nests.

"The most beautiful of all summerbirds, meanwhile, was a tender, bluebutterfly, which, in this beautiful season, fluttered about our hero, and was his first love. This was a blue-eyed peasant girl of his own age, with a slender form and an oval face, somewhat marked with the small-pox, but with the thousand traits that, like the magic circles of the enchanter's wand, take the heart a prisoner. Auguste, or Augustina, dwelt with her brother Romer, a delicate youth, who was known as a good accountant, and as a good singer in the choir. It did not, indeed, come to a declaration of love on the side of Paul, or it would appear in the division of the readings already printed; but he played his little romance in a lively manner, from a distance, as he sat in the pastor's pew in the church, and she in the seat appropriated to women, apparently near enough to look at each other without being satisfied. And yet, this was only the beginning; for when, at evening, she drove her cow home from the meadow-pasture, he instantly knew the well-remembered sound of the cowbell, and flew to the court wall to see her pass, and give her a nod as she went by; then ran again down to the gateway, to the speaking-grate, she the nun without, and he the monk within, to thrust his hand through the bars (more he durst not do, on account of the children without), in which there was some little dainty, sugared almonds, or something still more costly, that he had brought for her from the city. Alas! in many summers he did not attain three times to such happiness as this. But he was obliged to devour all the pleasures, and almost all the sorrows, within himself. His almonds, indeed, did not fall on stony ground, but in the Eden of his own eyes, for there grew out of them a whole hanging garden in his imagination, blooming, and full of fragrance, and he walked in it whole weeks long; for pure love will only bestow, and, through making the beloved happy, is happy! And, could it give an eternity of ever-increasing happiness, what were more blessed than love?"

In this bewitching focus of love and phantasy Paul remained enchanted, up to the time when, in his thirteenth

year, the family removed to Schwarzenbach. This was a far better "living' than that of Joditz; but the good parson, with his free-handed charities, and evident incompetency in finance, still continued poor, and always more or less embarrassed. Paul, who had all along been a great private reader, as far as his opportunities extended, had been gradually getting stores of miscellaneous knowledge. He read with avidity everything readable that came within his reach; odds and ends of history, geography, astronomy, newspapers, and theology, and would have gladly read more, had he been favoured with the chance. To obtain books, he did not altogether refrain from clandestine trespasses upon his father's sacred shelves. "Only," says he, "my father's library, like many a public one, was rarely open, except when he was not in it, nor at home." Though doing little direct the boy's craving after knowledge, the father still took pride in whatever indications of intelligence he chanced at times to manifest; "hanging," says Paul, "with a warm, paternal heart, on me, and easily, with every little sign of talents or improvement, bursting into joyful tears!" At Schwarzenbach, he was straightway sent to the town-school, but does not appear to have been eminently favoured in his teachers. Here, however, he began to read, in his spare hours, books from the circulating library; library; "but in Schwarzenbach," he says, "there was

only the romantic to be found, and of this the worst romances from the first half of the last century. But of these materials the boy formed a little Babylonian tower, although he could only draw out one at a time for reading." What follows will gratify the admirers of De Foe :-" Among all the histories upon the book-shelves, none poured such oil of joy and oil of nectar through all the veins of his being, till it amounted to physical ecstacy, as the reading of old Robinson Crusoe. knows the hour and place (it was evening, and at the window, opposite the bridge) when this delight occurred." One of his teachers, about the same time, undertook to induct into the study of philosophy, geography, and chess-playing. The philosophy was that of Gottsched, which, says Richter, "with all its dryness and emptiness, refreshed me by its novelty, like fresh

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water." After a lesson in this, the teacher pointed out on a map, what the Professor of his own history believes to have many cities and boundaries of Germany. But, in regard to this important branch of study, he says:

What I saw in the map I know not, and have sought in vain for it to-day in my memory. I trust I shall prove, that, among all living authors (which sounds indeed very strong), I, perhaps, understood the least of the maps of countries. If any descrip

tion of a city or country remains in my head, it is the little I have acquired in geographical courses, of which part is the statistics of the post-waggon, part what the post-jockey has cursorily told me in good gymnastic German." In the writing of themes, however, he seems to have been more successful; and, indeed, he intimates that the exercise tended to develope his singular German style. Upon the whole, his studies proceeded in an irregular and desultory manner; and that which most furthered his intellectual progress appears to have been what he learnt through his own private effort.

Meanwhile his exterior existence went on in many things not unpleasantly, and, among other felicities realised, he now attained the glory of his first kiss. With his olden susceptibility, he had not failed to fall in love with Catherine Bären, as she sat above him on the school-bench, fascinating him day by day with "her pretty round, red, small-pox-marked face,her lightning eyes,-the pretty hastiness with which she spake and ran.' Most of his love-making was carried on by telegraph; for a long time he could not bring himself to anything in the shape of direct speech or overture. Sweet-meats, indeed, he gave her in abundance; but not until one memorable evening did he dare to approach her with a lover's resolution. winter's evening, however, when his princess's collection of sweet gifts was prepared for delivery, he was induced to enter into the house where the beloved dwelt with her poor grandmother, up in a little corner chamber; and, on the middle of the steps leading thitherward, it was his amazing luck to meet her! "How it happened that I found her there," he says, "has become only a dreamy recollection; for the sudden lightning of the present

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darkened all that went behind. violently as if I had been a robber, I first pressed upon her my present of sweetmeats, and then I, who in Joditz never could reach the heaven of a first embrace, and never even dared to touch the beloved hand, I for the first time held a beloved being upon my heart and lips. I have nothing further to say, but that it was the one pearl of a minute that was never more repeated; a whole longing past and a dreaming future were united in one moment, and in the darkness behind my closed eyes the fire - works of a whole life were evolved in a single flash. Ah, I have never forgotten it; the moment ineffaceable!

After so thrilling an adventure, it is time that the history of Richter's juvenility should reach its termination. Let him now, then, be regarded as one who has arrived at the comparative maturity of youth. A strong-built, lusty fellow, ready to rub shoulders with the world, he looks around him with his clear-seeing eyes, and begins to measure himself with things and circumstances. The thing to be done next is to go to Leipzig University; there, as his former tutor tells him, a young man of parts and merit may prosper famously, and live on next to nothing. This last, unhappily, is a needful desideration; for the household treasury at Schwarzenbach has little to spare in the way of outfit. Indeed, while Paul was yet a pupil in the High-school at Hof, his father had died, in a state of much embarrassment, leaving to him, as the eldest of his children, "the care of his mother and the payment of his debts." The thrifty grand-parents likewise, in whose house Paul resided, within a short period of each other, were gathered to the family sepulchre. Paul's mother, as the favourite daughter, came now into the possession of most of the surviving property; though, as it transpired, little was the good she ever got by itowing to certain lawsuits which were instituted by other members of the family. She removed, however, to Hof, and took possession; and, in the year 1781, Paul made his entry into Leipzig.

From that day he was utterly dependent on himself. In a "beautiful room at the Three Roses, Peterstrass, No. 2, in the third story," he takes up

his abode, hoping to prosecute his studies, and to unite with them some few remunerating duties in the way of private teaching. This was the sort of thing which he had been led to understand was readily obtainable by "youths of merit." But nothing of the kind was to be got. From every one," said he, "I have heard that not very consolatory proverb, Lipsia vult expectari-Leipzig preferments must be waited for." This, to a man already straitened in his circumstances, is excessively unpleasant; more especially as he finds that that same expectari is so very undecided, that a man may remain fifty years in Leipzig, living all the time on expectation, and still they tell him he must wait! A friend writes him "a right good testimonium paupertatis" (testimonial of poverty), on presenting which at the colleges he expects to obtain assistance or employment; but this also turns out to be a broken reed on which it is dangerous to lean; "no free-table, no acquaintance with students,-in short, nothing," is thereby realised. "It is nowise easy," he says, "to obtain an introduction to the professors. The most renowned, whose esteem would be most useful to me, are oppressed with business, surrounded by a multitude of respectabilities, and a swarm of envious flatterers; so that those who are not distinguished by dress or rank approach them with the utmost difficulty."

In such a state of things, Richter's outlook was manifestly gloomy. To study with much advantage seemed impossible; and, indeed, it is anything but clear what literary or scientific culture he derived through his residence at Leipzig. He attended certain courses of lectures, and read largely in the libraries, but beyond this he received but little benefit,-no adequate or useful guidance whatsoever. Agreeably to the desires of his family, he addressed himself at the outset to theology; but, soon perceiving that his lack of means would be an insurmountable obstacle to any practical success in that department, he abandoned whatever hopes he might have founded on it, and, along with them, every prospect of getting connected with any of the recognised professions. He now became a sort of general student, roaming at large over wide tracts of literature, and seizing with

avidity upon everything that interested him. He instructed himself in the French and English languages, read Voltaire, Rosseau, Pope, Swift, Young, and many other authors, excerpting choice passages from them into private note-books, which grew, in course of time, into a library. It was for a long time the only library he had.

For, indeed, his remittances from Hof, which had all along been scanty, came at length to be unmercifully delayed, and eventually ceased coming altogether. Paul, on one occasion, writes to his mother, in great perplexity:-"I will not ask you for money to pay my victualler, to whom I owe twenty-four dollars, nor my landlord, to whom I am indebted ten dollars, nor for certain other necessary debts which amount to six dollars. I can let these rest till Michaelmas, when I shall undoubtedly be able to discharge them. But for the following you must not deny me some assistance. I must every week pay the washerwoman, who does not trust. I must drink some milk every morning. I must have my boots soled by the cobbler, who does not trust; my torn cap must be repaired by the tailor, who does not trust; and I must give something to the maid-servant, who, of course, does not trust. I know not, indeed, what I shall do if you do not lend me a helping hand for these things." Eight dollars of Saxon money, he says, will be sufficient, and, after that, he trusts he shall need no further help; nay, he even hints that by-and-by he shall be able to maintain them both.

But in what way, now, is a young man of nineteen going to realise such a fabulous amount of ready money as will be required for the objects thus coolly undertaken? What singular mine of wealth does he fancy he has discovered! It is nothing less than the glittering delusive one of authorship. With grin want staring him in the face, he has yet courage and liveliness enough to wit a satire, which he whimsically entitle "The Eulogy of Stupidity." With this he expects to gain a hundred dollars. And so, perhaps, he might, but for one unlucky obstacle: he could not find a publisher. Herr Professor Seidlitz had undertaken to assist him in the enter prise; but this worthy gentleman long and so kindly patronised the book. by letting it lie upon his desk," that he allowed the time when it should have

been published to pass over. On receiving it back, Paul says: “I read it through to quiet my ill-humour, and thanked God that I had not found a publisher. 'Lie there in a corner,' I said, with paternal expression, to the little Richter, together with school exercises, for thou art thyself no better. I will forget thee, for the world would certainly have forgotten thee. Thou art too young ever to have been old, and the milk-beard upon thy chin would never suffer us to believe that thou wouldst have grey hair.' Twelve

months had slipped away while he had been waiting for the issue, and now he awoke in dim bewilderment, and saw that his flattering project was a dream!

The hounds of hunger hunted him ; but, nevertheless, undaunted, he turned himself about, and, in six months, produced another book. This was the "Greenland Lawsuits" (Grönländische Prozesse), "a collection of satirical sketches, full of wild gay wit, and keen insight," on men and things in general. As before, the difficulty of realising anything by it lay with the publishers. Richter tried all the publishing houses in Leipzig, without success. But what

of Leipzig are there no publishers to be found elsewhere in Germany or the world? Richter, at any rate, will see what can be done in Berlin; and there, as it turns out, he meets with the respectable Herr Voss, who, after a little consideration, accepts the work, and pays the author sixteen louis d'or for it in hard cash. Here, then, it seems, the anxiously-wrought mine is beginning to show metal! The reader need not doubt that after this, Richter was excessively industrious, and that in nearly less than no time he was ready with another manuscript.

Let the reading public take notice, that here is a "Selection from the Papers of the Devil," apparently well edited, and containing, perhaps, some ngular disclosures from the remote invisible kingdoms. But the reading public cannot be made acquainted with this edifying work, for the old reason, that not a publisher in all Germany can be found willing to bring it out. For, behold, the "Greenland Lawsnits" does not sell; and who would knowingly encumber himself with stillborn stock? There is nothing for it but to let these diabolically-named documents lie by for one seven years,

until, by other efforts, one can gain the popular attention. Let Richter try now some of the leading magazines; perhaps, in certain corners of those inclosures, he may be allowed to till some neglected bit of ground, and thereby gain a little bread. But the crop thus realised proves hardly worth the gathering; it is dependent on so many accidents, and liable to so many fluctuations. He determines, therefore, for the present, to trouble able editors no more; and, as his circumstances in Leipzig had at length grown unendurable, he appeared to have no alternative but to quit the place, and go down to his mother at Hof, and there "abide his time."

It would seem that Richter was obliged to leave a few debts behind him, and that he actually departed from the city in disguise. This is to be regretted; but what, in such a case, was a poor man to do? The days of magic are gone by; no assiduous jin or demon will replenish the forlorn exchequer of insolvent mortals any more; and, until the philosopher's stone shall be discovered, nobody, except the Master of the Mint, can lawfully coin dollars. On reaching his mother's house he found her affairs as desperate as his own. "She was living with one or more of Paul's brothers, in a small tenement, containing but one apartment, where cooking, washing, cleaning, spinning, and all the beehive. industry of domestic life, must go on together." Here, however, Paul set up his study; his sole stock of books being twelve manuscript volumes of extracts, and the unpublished "Papers of the Devil." He carried, it is true, a tolerable library in his head; and might, perhaps, have managed to have got on, waiting calmly for better times, had his circumstances been only a trifle less straitened. But the sole difficulty lay in waiting for Poverty was written on the door-posts; and that in characters so large, that whoever passed the house might read it as readily as if it had been the heading of a proclamation. Doubtless Paul suffered some depression on his mother's account. especially; but for himself, he soon begins to ask, "What is poverty, that a man should murmur under it? It is but as the pain of piercing a maiden's ears, and you hang precious jewels in the wound." Elsewhere, and at a later

period of life, he says:-"In my historical lectures, the business of hungering will in truth more and more make its appearance; with the hero it rises to a great height,-about as often as feasting in 'Thummel's Travels,' or tea-drinking in Richardson's Clarissa; nevertheless, I cannot help saying to poverty, Welcome! so long as thou come not at too late a time!" Wealth bears heavier on talent than poverty; under gold-mountains and thrones, who knows how many a spiritual giant may be crushed down and buried! When among the flames of youth, and above all, of hotter powers as well, the oil of riches is also poured in-little will remain of the Phoenix but his ashes; and only a Goethe has force to keep, even at the sun of good fortune, his Phoenix-wings unsinged. The poor Historical Professor, in this place, would not, for much money, have had much money in his youth.'

Thus, it will be seen, that even when his fortunes were at the worst, Richter did not sink into dejection or complaint. He learnt to " prize his ex

istence more than his manner of existence," and resolutely prepared himself to front his destiny. From the mean environment in which he stood, he would struggle manfully to be delivered, but even there he could yet respect himself; knowing that the true respectability of a man lies not in his outward circumstances, but in his inward worth and dignity of soul. His lines had fallen in unpleasant places, but he felt himself not the less a man; not the less an authentic citizen of the universe, with capabilities to be exercised, with duties to be performed, with manly rights and interests to be claimed and conquered. With a gay heartiness of endeavour, and a proud indifference to the slings and hostilities of his lot, he girded himself up, and went steadily on the way before him, never doubting but that at last he should find therein the true shrine of his vocation.

At this, the lowest point of his fortunes, we here leave him, trusting shortly to bring you tidings of the dawn of better days.

(To be concluded in our next.)

Quoted from Carlyle's "Miscellanies." Art. Richter." Vol. II.

JOHN BANIM,

Author of the "O'Hara Tales." IT is not a little remarkable that, in an age when the biography of distinguished men has become, in many cases, almost as voluminous as their writings, no extended account of a man who acquired so brilliant a reputation as Banim should have appeared. We are aware, however, that such a work was long since contemplated, and, in part, executed by his brother, by whom some of the personal particulars, in the following notice, were communicated to the writer.

John Banim, as most of the readers of his powerful works of fiction are probably aware, was a native of the ancient and not uncelebrated city of Kilkenny a city possessing numerous and interesting historical associations, as well as local advantages; the seat of one of the most ancient and celebrated existing Colleges, or High Schools, in Ireland, the seminary where Swift, Harris, Berkeley, and other of the most distinguished names in Irish literature, pursued their early studies; and, also, of the ancient Cathedral of St. Canice, the rival of Patrick's (with its adjoining round tower), which Cromwell, when he had with so much difficulty stormed the city, desecrated, by converting it into a stable for his troopers; situated amid some of the most delightful inland scenery in the country, that of Woodstock, which made the taciturn Prince of Orange, when he viewed it, exclaim in rapture, "This is a country worth fighting for;" and the noble Persian traveller, Mirza Abu, compare it to a paradise; overlooked by one of the most princely baronial residences in the kingdom, that of "the chie Butler of all Ireland ;* while round

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There is an amusing story told of the most distinguished member of this ancien house, the famous Duke of Ormond, wher Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, the outline only of which we can give from memory. one occasion the duke, with some other com pany, was cast ashore by shipwreck, or som other casualty, on one of the Scottish islands where he was most hospitably entertained the minister, a poor man, named Joseph with a large family. The duke, in gratitud for his kindness, promised to bear him mind on his return to Ireland. The cares State, however, during a very troubled p riod, drove the poor parson from his m mory. The expectant of preferment, tire