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OH, LOVE, WHEN THE SORROW-CLOUDS LOWER!

A SERENADE.

COMPOSED AND ARRANGED FOR THE PIANO-FORTE, AND DEDICATED TO MISS L. DODSON. BY B. S. C. SLOW, WITH EXPRESSION.

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OBSERVATIONS ON MUSIC.

There are few who have not felt the charms of music, and acknowledged its expressions to be intelligible to the heart.It is the language of delightful sensations, which is far more eloquent than that of words; it breathes into the ear the clearest intimations; but how it was learned, to what origin we owe it, or what is the definite meaning to he affixed to some of its most affecting strains, we know not.

We plainly feel that music gently touches and agitates the agreeable and sublime passions; that it wraps us in melancholy and elevates us with joy; that it dissolves and inflames; that it melts us in tenderness and rouses to rage; but its strokes are so fine and delicate, that, as in a tragedy, even the passions that wound, please. Its sorrows are charming, and its rage heroic and delightful; as people feel the particular passions with different degrees of force, their taste for harmony must proportionably vary. Music then is a language directed to the passions; but the rudest of these put on a new nature, and become pleasing in harmony: let me also add, that it awakens some passions which we do not perceive in ordinary life. The most elevated sensation of music arises from a confused perception of ideal or visionary beauty and rapture, which is sufficiently distinguishable to fire the imagination, but not clear enough to become an object of knowedge. This shadowy beauty the mind attempts, with a languishing curiosity, to collect into a distinct object of view and comprehension; but it fades and escapes, like the dissolving ideas of a delightful dream, that are neither within the reach of memory, nor yet totally fled. The noblest charm of music, then, though real and affecting, seems too confused and fluid to be collected into a distinct idea. Melody is always understood by the crowd, but almost always mistaken by musicians, who are, with hardly an exception, servile followers of the taste of the day; who, having expended much time and pains on the mere mechanical and practical part, are induced to lay too great a stress on those dexterities of hand, which have no real value, except as they serve to produce sounds, or collections of sound, which move the passions. The present taste for music bears a striking resemblance to the rage for tragi-comedy, which about a century ago gained so much ground upon the stage. The musicians of the present day are charmed at the strange union they form between the grave and the fantastic, and at the surprising transitions they make to the wildest extremes; while every hearer who has the least remainder of the taste of nature left, must be shocked at the strange jargon. If the same taste prevailed in painting, we should soon find the monster of Horace realized on convass; we should see the woman s head, the horse's body, and the fish's tail united by soft graduations, and set off in the most imposing manner. Musicians should take particular care to preserve in its full vigor and sensibility their original, natural taste, which alone can feel and discover the true beauty of music.

If Shakspere, Milton, or Dryden, had been born with the same genius and inspiration for music as for poetry, and had passed through the practical part without corrupting the natural taste, or blending with it prepossession in favor of those sleights of hand and curious dexterities of which our musicians are so ambitious, then would their notes have been tuned to passions and to sentiments as natural and expressive as the tones and modulations of the voice in eloquent discourse. No great difference would be found between the music and the thought; the hearers would only think impetuously, and the effect of the music would be to impart to the ideas a tumultuous violence, and give a divine impulse to the mind. Any person conversant with the classsic poets, sees instantly that the passionate power of the music I speak of was perfectly understood and practised by the ancients; that the muses of the Greeks always sung, and that their song was the echo of the subject which swelled their poetry into enthusiasm and rapture. It were devoutedly to be wished that the Grecian taste for impassioned music could be once more restored, to the delight and wonder of mankind. But as, from the disposition of things, and the force of fashion, we can scarcely hope in our time to rescue the sacred lyre, and place it in the hands of men of gemus-all that can be done is to try and reclaim musicians to their own natural feeling of harmony; to inculcate this important truth, that the genuine emotions of music are not to be found in compositions of a labored, fantastic, and surprising kind, but rather in those pieces that are the growth of a native, simple, and unvitiated taste. Such emotions are discoverable in the swelling sounds that wrap us in imaginary grandeur; in those plaintive notes that make us in

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I know that it must be,

Yea! thou art changed-all worshipped as thou art-
Mourned as thou shalt be!

Sickness of the heart
Hath done its work on thee!

Thy dim eyes tell a tale,

A piteous tale, of vigils; and the trace
Of bitter tears is on thy beauteous face,
Beauteous, and yet so pale!

Changed love! but not alone!

I am not what they think me; though my cheek
Wear but its last year's furrow, though I speak
Thus in my natural tone.

The temple of my youth
Was strong in moral purpose: once I felt
The glory of philosophy, and knelt

In the pure shrine of truth.

I went into the storm,

And mocked the billows of the tossing sea;
I said to Fate, "What wilt thou do to me?
I have not harmed a worm!"

Vainly the heart is steeled

In Wisdom's armor; let her burn her books!
I look upon them as the soldier looks
Upon his cloven shield.

Virtue and Virtue's rest,

How have they perished! Through my onward course
Repentance dogs my footsteps! black Remorse
Is my familiar guest!

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A wreath I covet not.

And if I cannot make,

Dearest! thy hope my hope, thy trust my trust,
Yet will I study to be good, and just,

And blameless, for thy sake.

Thou may'st have comfort yet!
Whate'er the source from which those waters glide,
Thou hast found healing mercy in their tide;
Be happy and forget!

Forget me and farewell!
But say not that in me new hopes and fears,
Or absence, or the lapse of gradual years,
Will break thy memory's spell!
Indelibly, within,

All I have lost is written; and the theme
Which Silence whispers to my thoughts and dreams
Is sorrow still—and sin!

THE DEAD MAN OF ST. ANNE'S CHAPEL.

A CRIMINAL STORY....IN FOUR PARTS.

PART I....THE SEARCH.

On the top of an eminence forming the outskirts of a mountainous and woody region in the south of Germany, stands a small chapel dedicated to St. Anne, rarely visited except by passing peasants, or on the festivals of the Saints or other holidays, when crowds of pilgrims are in the habit of resorting to it. Early in the morning of the 26th of August, 1816, a peasant from a village at some distance was ascending the narrow footpath leading to the chapel. His little boy, who accompanied him, had run on before. As he reached the immediate neighborhood of the chapel, the child turned back with breathless haste, and in accents of terror urged his father to advance. The old man hastened forward in alarm; and his first glance, as he reached the level of the chapel, rested upon a corpse. Steeped in blood, and stripped to the shirt, the lower part of the body covered with long, loose, and lightcolored pantaloons, covering boots with spurs-there lay upon the steps of the chapel the body of a well-shaped young man: his right hand rested on his breast, and on his finger sparkled a heavy gold seal-ring.

Next morning, however, the landlord of a small forest inn at a little distance made his appearance before the judge, who had seen the dead man the evening before after the body had been put into the coffin. He had recognized in him a stranger who had lodged in his house the night before the 24th August, and had left it early that morning. Of his name, his rank, his former residence, or his destination, he was ignorant. His own conjecture-which, however, rested on nothing more conclusive than that the deceased wore boots and spurswas, that he was an officer of some of the corps which were cantoned in the neighborhood. Being urged still farther to describe any other articles of dress belonging to the stranger, the landlord mentioned a gold watch with a chain and key, a red pocket book, a green silk double purse which he had put in the landlord's hand before going to sleep, and had received from him again next morning; and two rings, one of which was a seal-ring, the other a slender hoop-ring. The seal-ring which had been found upon the finger of the deceased being shown to him, was recognized by him as that which had been worn by his guest.

For some time no further clue was found, either to the person of the victim or the cause of his death, though the investigation was actively pursued by the Ober-Procurator of the criminal tribunal, which then held its sittings at Hainburg.→→ In the course of the month of November, however, a commu❤ nication was made to the tribunal from the president of the police of the department of K―, to this effect: That a certain Herr Von Breisach, said to be a native of the province of B, who had for some time resided as a private individual at K, and was in the habit of making excursions from thence-sometimes for days at a time-into the mountains, had disappeared towards the end of August, and had never returned. His housekeeper, who, alarmed at his absence, had made application to the police, was now summoned to Hainburg, and from her information there seemed little reason to doubt that the deceased and Von Breisach were the same person. She came accompanied by an invalid soldier who had been for some time in the service of Breisach, and who at once recognized the boots as having frequently passed through his hands. Both of them, of their own accord, particularized the gold watch and the two rings of which the landlord had spoken: though they could not absolutely identify the seal-ring, they thought it the same which their master had worn; the other ring they described as a plain one, rein-sembling a marriage-ring.

The peasant instantly dispatched the boy to the nearest village to communicate the discovery, while he himself remained by the body. It struck him as singular, that so little blood should be found beside it. If a murder had taken place, this surely had not been the spot where it had been perpetrated. The trace of footsteps, still visible, though evidently artificially obliterated, pointed sideways into the wood, above which, at some distance, rose a rugged and lofty peak of rock called the Raubstein, on the summit of which the fragments of an old building were still visible, to which the usual traditionary tales of superstitious terror were attached. The direction which the inquiry was likely to take was quite sufficient to deter the peasant from further investigation, till the arrival of the juge de paix and the surgeon of the village, who, accompanied by a numerous tribe of those idlers who are always in attendance on such occasions, soon after made their appearance.

The body was examined, on which slight symptoms of cipient decay were already perceptible. Under the shirt a parti-colored bandage, apparently the fragment of a woman's shawl, was found carefully wrapped around the breast. Beneath it, and on the left breast, lay a second roll of cloth, adhering closely to the body by means of coagulated blood, and covering a broad and deep wound penetrating to the heart, and evidently inflicted with a sharp two-edged instrument, apparently a knife. The dissection of the body led to the conclusion that death had taken place after indulgence in wine, and probably to excess.

While the examination was proceeding, one of the spectators who had followed the trace of the footsteps in the direction of the Raubstein, returned and announced to the judge that the crime had undoubtedly been committed within the rained building on the summit. The judge, the physician, and the spectators immediately hastened to the spot, which all appearances indicated to have been the scene of the murder. Blood besmeared the floor and was sprinkled along the walls; round about lay the remains of a recent meal; crusts of bread, parings of fruit, and the remains of a broken bottle, in which some drops of a sweet and heavy wine were still left.

The traces of footsteps leading from the chapel towards the ruin were indistinct, but in the opposite direction leading from the ruin towards the highroad to Hilgenberg, they were plainly discernible; not far from the building was found another stripe of the same parti-colored silk which was wrapped round the body, and deeper in the underwood, suspended on a low bush, a woman's long glove, of Danish leather, finely wrought and quite new, but stained with some dark spots in which the physician recognized the appearance of blood. By degrees the footprints became less distinct, and were at last lost in the beaten highway leading to Hilgenberg.

In the hope that it might lead to a recognition, the spectators who thronged to the spot were allowed to view the corpse without impediment. The examination, however, led to no result, and with the approach of evening the body was conveyed to its last resting-place in the churchyard of the neighboring village of Hoffstede.

The accounts given by them and others as to the habits of Breisach were far from favorable. He had led a retired, but, as it appeared, discreditable life in K. Report spoke of his connection with an actress of that theatre, a connection which had abruptly terminated some time before his disappearance; the actress had afterwards quitted the town-for what quarter was unknown.

Promising as these explanations at first sight appeared, they were not found materially to advance the inquiry. Who was this Herr Von Breisach? The name was totally unknown in the district; it was not to be found in any of the registers of nobility; the arms upon the seal-ring, though shown to many, were not recognised by any one; both name and arms might be the mere assumption of an adventurer.

A fortunate chance, however, removed the difficulty which had baffled inquiry. The name of Breisach happening to be mentioned in a private circle, in the presence of an ex-diplomatist distinguished for his skill in heraldry, he remarked that there might be a mistake in the writing of the name ; that he knew a noble family of the name of Preussach, and was himself in possession of their coat of arms. The remark was communicated to the official persons who were engaged in the inquiry, and the stranger was requested to exhibit to them the arms of the noble family to which he had alluded. They corresponded in the minutest particulars with those engraved upon the seal-rings.

One branch of this family it appeared was settled in the province of B, the alleged birthplace, it may be recollected, of the personage who, toward the close of August, had disappeared from K

The Ober-Procurator immediately put himself in communication with the government of that province, and in a short time a written answer was received from a Ferdinand Von Preussach, who announced himself as the second son of the old Baron Anselm Von Preussach, proprietor of an entailed estate in that quarter.

* Public Prosecutor.

The eldest son, Hermann, had gone abroad about two years before, and for a considerable time past the family knew nothing as to his residence.

"Every thing," continued Ferdinand Von Preussach, "every thing indicates that the deceased is my brother Hermann.The family are deeply interested in the ascertainment of the truth. I am the next heir to the family estates; for my brother left but a single daughter, the fruit of his short marriage. I shall present myself personally before the court, and afford every information which may tend to throw light on this melancholy event."

mann.

In January, 1817, Ferdinand appeared in Hainburg. He read the documents which contained the results of the investigations which had taken place; and expressed his unhesitating conviction that the dead man was his brother HerHe applied to the court for an attestation of Hermann's death, which would open the succession to him on his father's death-an event which he regretted to think could not be far distant; but he was given to understand that, however little doubt they might entertain as to his testimony, the evidence of a single witness, and that too the person most interested in establishing the death, would not justify the grant ing of an official certificate to that effect. He was advised to place his case in the hands of an advocate of the court, and as the readiest means of obtaining his end, in the event of any clue being found to the perpetrator of the deed, to appear in the criminal proceedings for his interest as private complainer.

Ferdinand accepted this advice, and chose for his counsel the advocate Senkenberg, a man of great ability and activity, whose local knowledge and numerous personal relations in the district, peculiarly fitted him to advance the views of his client. The importance of the task assigned to him, and the rank of his employer, concurred to stimulate the zeal of the advocate.

Whether it was owing to chance, or that the exertions of one personally interested were more effective than the operations of the police, certain it is that, with the appearance of Ferdinand, light began to be thrown on several points which, but for his activity, might either have remained undiscovered, or at least their bearing upon the case but imperfectly appreciated.

Ferdinand's first visit was to K―, the last residence of his brother. After some hesitation, the effects belonging to the deceased were removed from the place where they had been sealed up, and exhibited to him. He examined with eagerness every paper that might help to throw light upon his brother's fate. Amongst others, a page of paper in the form of a letter came into his hands; the address was torn away, but the contents, which were in French, and written in a delicate hand, seemed important. We quote it as it stood, with its characteristic orthography.

"Je vous accorde cette entrevue pourvu qu'elle soye decisive. Vos mennaces ne pourrant jamais m'epouvanter, je saurais me defendre moryennaut les armes lesquelles me preteront l'honneur et la vertue. Voici ma derniere. La corespondance segrete ne peut se continuer.

"Bl. cc. 21 Juill.

A."*

Preussach communicated the document thus found to the Ober-Procurator, (public prosecutor) to whom he at the same time stated the view he entertained as to its connection with the subject of the investigation.

estimable brother. This was the cause of separation after his short marriage; his excesses afterward, when he was left without control, involved him in difficulties which had more than once threatened a tragic termination. In K, report spoke of his connection with an opera dancer, who had disappeared from thence nearly at the same time. The point as to the presence of a woman in the neighborhood of the scene of action about the time of the murder, ought to be more narrowly inquired into.”

The Ober-Procurator was struck with the justice of some of these observations. The inquiry at which Ferdinand pointed was resumed, and the following additional particulars were the result. They related to the 24th of August, the day on the morning of which the deceased had left the forest inn, and which the witnesses were enabled to recollect, as being the birth-lay of one of the reigning princesses, which had been celebrated by fêtes in the neighboring villages. A Swiss youth of twenty, but of weak intellect, who had occasion to ascend the path leading to the Raubstein for the purpose of cutting wood for the village bonfire, early in the forenoon, had seen a man and woman at some distance before him in the wood; the man in the dress of a Jager, the woman in a particolored gown with a straw hat and parasol. The particular colors he could not describe. They disappeared among the underwood. He caught sight of them only once more. They were then close to the Raubstein, behind one of the projections of which they were soon concealed.

The information given by the bath-keeper at Schlingin, a small village almost connecting with the out skirts of the wate ring-place of Hilgenberg, was more distinct and important. About noon a lady, finely dressed, tall and slender, with a pleasing countenance, but pale and worn out, with dark hair falling down in curls, entered their house, and begged the bath-keeper to dress a wound on the palm of the right hand, which she held covered with a handkerchief. The bathkeeper dressed and bound up the wound, which was broad but not deep, and apparently caused by a sharp instrument; and his wife, at the stranger's request, furnished her with a clean handkerchief. The lady placed a ducat in his hand, and hastily retired. At the garden-gate she was received by an old man in the garb of a woodman, in company with whom she took the path towards Hilgenberg.

A neighbor who, from behind the hedge of his garden, had witnessed the interview between the lady and her guide, before she entered the bath-keeper's house, described her as expressing, with a burst of tears, the deepest anxiety and alarm; to which he heard the old woodman distinctly reply: "God in Heaven! be calm. Weeping will not bring him to life again-with me you are safe. I shall be silent-silent as the grave!"

The dress of the lady, according to their recollection, was a green silk gown, a straw hat with flowers, and a parasol of light colored silk.

Preussach was well satisfied with the result of these enquiries. "We shall have light soon," said he to Senkenberg. "The glove is a strong piece of evidence. It is clear the wounded lady must have lost it. It is for the right hand. We have the glove, we shall have the hand presently."

The active Senkenberg again set the police in motion. He procured a description of the suspected opera dancer; which, as is generally the case, suited tolerably well with the des cription given by the bath-keeper and his wife. At last he was fortunate enough to discover her place of residence. But the anticipations of Preussach were not in this instance to be realized. The opera-dancer was in a condition to establish an unquestionable alibi. Her passports and certificates were com pletely en regle: she was proved to have left K— by the middle of July, and to have never been in that neighborhood since.

"The tribunal," he observed, "had hitherto gone on the idea of robbery. Such had never been his belief. Any circumstances that might seem to countenance such a notion were the result of artificial contrivance to disguise the truth. The hand that dealt the blow, he was persuaded, was a woman's. Several passages in the precognitions alluded to a woman's having been seen in the neighborhood of the chapel about the time in question; fragments of a shawl had been The glove, which she had been requested in the course of the wrapped round the body; a woman's glove found in the neigh-investigation to put on, was found to be far too small for her borhood; the handwriting of the letter of 21st July was de- hand. It was with difficulty indeed that it could be drawn off cidedly that of a woman; it spoke of a decisive interview; without tearing. But in doing so a circumstance came to the interview had taken place near the chapel, too decisive light which showed that the investigations had not been made unfortunately for the deceased. with such minuteness but that more might yet be discovered. In removing the glove it was turned inside out, and close to the sleeve was discovered a name stamped upon the leatherWilh: T. . ffe. The intermediate letters were illegible.

"I would not willingly cast suspicion on the innocent," he proceeded; "but I cannot disguise what no stranger can be so well acquainted with as myself. Sensual and unbridled passion was a prominent trait in the character of my otherwise * «I grant you this interview on condition that it be decisive. Your with which honor and virtue will supply me. This is my last. The

threats will never terrify me. I can defend myself with the weapons secret correspondence must terminate.'

Attention was now, of course, directed to the discovery of The name might be that of the proprietor, or it might be that the person whose name was thus stamped upon the glove.of the maker of the glove; but even in this last case, in might lead to farther discoveries. With this view the glove was put

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