( 32 ) 

 MATRIMONY AND MOONSHINE ; 



A FRAGMENT OP GERMAN PHILOSOPHY. 



HERR VON DROST was one of the richest and most accomplished 

 of the youth of Germany. Dividing his time between company, the 

 gaieties of life, his tailor and his horse, he had reached his twenty-fifth 

 year. Till now the passion of a day, and the despair of an evening, 

 had been equally forgotten the next morning ; but twenty-five is a 

 dangerous age for the heart ! The sun had risen brightly, and set 

 brightly, but for one whole day Herr Von Drost had not left his 

 room. A whole day at home ! and he had not sent for a physician. 



He laid the play-bill on the table unread, walked hastily up and 

 down the room, and became thoughtful. It was for the first time in 

 his life. The valet looked at him suspiciously. 



" Had I only those two hours again in my possession," cried he, 



and threw himself on the sofa. " I sit two hours by her side, and 



have not the courage to look at her even once ; I mutter a few unin- 

 telligible words ; she asks me if I have said any thing ; in my embar- 

 rassment I stammer out some silly remark ; and a gigantic officer of 

 the Guards leads her away to the carriage." 



Drost ordered his dinner ; alas ! he could not order an appetite : 

 it was removed untouched. He threw himself sleepless on the bed : 

 "Could I but have those two hours back again!" he sighed, and 

 went through the whole dictionary of love. Worn out at length he 

 fell asleep, and awoke horror-stricken from a dream for he had 

 stabbed the gigantic guardsman. 



It was again day-light : he ordered his horse. The English hun- 

 ter pranced through the street where she lived ; all the windows flew 

 open. There was the house ; a white figure moved in the window. 

 His heart beat quick, both spurs were struck into his bay ; the fiery 

 animal reared and snorted. The people, terrified, fled from the 

 street. " Take care !" said a voice, which he knew to be hers. His 

 blood rushed impetuously through his veins, and the wild animal 

 he rode shot like an arrow by the house. 



He paced up and down his apartment ; her voice resounded in his 

 ears. But he had not one thanked her even by a glance not once 

 saluted her as he rode past. 



" I must rectify that," said he, impatiently ; " it gives me an op- 

 portunity of writing. I can write what I could not say to her;" and 

 he sat down to write. 



Excuses and thanks are two humiliating things. Twenty times 

 he dipped his pen into the ink; his embarrassment increased; 

 he started up ; " it is better that I should go," said he ; and he 

 snatched up his hat. The movement brought him before his look- 

 ing-glass. For the first time in his life he stood melancholy, and 

 embarrassed before the mirror ; he examined himself timidly. 

 The ghost in the uniform stood before him ! He reckoned up his 

 income to himself his courage rose ; the more he reckoned, the 

 smaller grew the ghost, He was independent, young, and had a 



