Friesland, Gromingen, and Dreuthe export annually about a million pounds of nitrogen in cheese. They obtain this from their meadows by means of cows; they furnish the only manure the meadows receive. Whence the exported tons of nitrogen, since the cows return nothing to the meadows but what they have received from it in addition to the nitrogen transplanted. But the positive experiments of Boussingault✶ settle this point. Boussingault devoted four hectares of land (nearly five acres) of his estate in Alsace to experiments, which were pursued with the utmost assiduity and care during many years. He allowed this land to be cultured in the usual manner for twenty-one years. But the manure that was used was weighed, as well as the product of the harvest, and the quantity of the carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen, and ash of both were very accurately ascertained. The result found was, that on an average, the annual harvest gained from the soil twice as much nitrogen, three times as much carbon and hydrogen, and four times as much oxygen, as had been given to it in manure, supposing here that the whole contents of the manure entered the plant, which is not actually the case. Since, then, carbonic acid, ammonia, and water form the food of plants, and we find that these matters never can be so combined as not to contain far more oxygen than the substances occurring in plants, free oxygen gas must necessarily be set free in the vital processes of the plant. And thus, as the final movement of our inquiry, we reach this conclusion: that decomposition and respiration liberate all vegetable and animal substances (diminishing the oxygen in the air) in the form of carbonic acid, ammonia, and water, which diffuse themselves through the atmosphere. The plant takes these substances and forms from them, accompanied by an incessant increase of the oxygen of the atmosphere, compounds rich in carbon and hydrogen, but devoid of nitrogen, such as starch, gum, sugar, and the various fatty matters, and others rich in nitrogen, namely, albumen, fibrine, and caseine. The animal world builds up its corporeal frame from

See the Chemical and Physiological Balance of Organic Nature. Dumas and Boussingault, 12mo. London, 1844.

But if you should ever see him, whom I never more shall see,

Tell him that the sweetest solace his dear letters were to me;

That I never ceased to love him, never doubted that he loved;

That my faith in him was perfect, and remain'd through all unmoved.

And, O! tell him when he came not, as he promised he would come,

If I could not choose but sorrow, that my grief for him was dumb;

That I never yet reproach'd him, ne'er a word of censure spoke ;

That his mem'ry must be gentle to the heart his coldness broke.

Tell him, through the years which follow'd, when no tidings from him came,

Nor his absence, nor his silence, was I ever heard to blame;

O, this wild desire to see him, God subdue within my breast!

For it racks me into torture, and my soul hath need of rest.

When I'm dead, and in my coffin, and the shroud about me wound,

And my narrow bed is ready, in the pleasant

church-yard ground,

Lay the locket and the letters both together on my heart,

And this little ring he gave me, never from my finger part.

Now, I'm ready, read the letters, the dear letters once again;

As I listen while you read them, I shall lose all sense of pain;

And if, when you have finish'd, I should gently fall asleep

Gently fall asleep and wake not-dearest sister, do not weep.

66

Very good," said he. "But the name is a very common one; you may find it in every corner of Germany, Hungary, and Poland. You must give me

better vouchers; I have some business with you, and have been directed hither." "Sir," said I, "pardon me; I cannot now attend to business; I am just upon the point of leaving, and have yet a thousand things to see about. You must be mistaken in the person, for I am neither politician nor merchant.”

He stared at me, and said, "Indeed!" He was then silent for a while, and appeared about to depart; but began again: "You have, however, been doing some business here in Prague. Is not your brother upon the point of becoming bankrupt?"

I must have grown fire-red, for, as I believed, that was known to no soul in the world except my brother and myself. Here the tempter gave one of his malicious smiles again.

"You are again mistaken, sir," said I; "I have a brother, it is true, and more than one, but none that fears bankruptcy." "Indeed!" murmured the tempter, and his features again became hard and iron. "Sir," said I, somewhat sensitively, for I was not at all pleased that any one in Prague should know of my brother's circumstances, and I was afraid that the old fox would see into my play as he did into the game of chess at the coffee-house, "you have certainly been directed to the wrong person. I must beg pardon for requesting you to be brief; I have not a moment to lose."

foot, and really I began to feel a superstitious dread. I was resolved in no case to commit myself with this suspicious gentleman, and said, "I need no money. Since you are so generous in your offers, sir, may I ask your name ?"

"My name cannot be of much consequence to you,” replied he; "that's nothing to the matter. I am a Mandeville. Does the name give you more confidence?"

"A Man-devil!" said I, in odd embarrassment, and knew not what to say, or whether the whole thing were in jest or in earnest.

Just then some one knocked at the door. The landlord entered, and handed me a letter which had just come by the post.

"Read your letter first," said the redcoat," and then we will talk further. The letter is, without doubt, from your lovely Fanny."

I was more startled than ever.

66

Now, do you know," continued the stranger, with a grin, "do you not now know who I am, and what I want with you?"

It was upon my lips to say, "You are, sir, I verily believe, Satan himself;" but I restrained myself.

"But, further," added he, " you are going to Eger. Good! my way lies through that town. I start to-morrow. Will you take a place in my carriage?"

I thanked him, and said that I had already ordered a post-chaise.

At this he became disturbed, and said, "There is no getting at you; but your Fanny, and the little Leopold, and Augustus, I must get acquainted with in going through. Can you not guess who I am, and what I want? Sir, I would render you a service. Do speak."

"Well," said I, at last, "since you are a wizard, my pocket-book is missing. Advise me how I shall get it again."

"Bah! what signifies a pocket-book? Is there not something else?"

"But in the pocket-book were important papers; more than fourteen hundred dollars in value. Advise me what I shall do if it is lost, and what if stolen."

"How did the pocket-book look?" "It had a silk cover, light green, with embroidery, and my initials wrought in flowers, a piece of my wife's work."

"Then the cover is worth more than the fourteen hundred dollars." With this he smiled upon me with his horrible fa

miliarity, and then added, "We must see about it. What will you give me if I supply your loss?"

At these words he looked at me as sharply and strangely as if he expected me to answer," I will make you a present of my soul;" but as I remained embarrassed and silent, he plunged his hand into his pocket and drew out my pocket-book. "There, have you your jewel, the fourteen hundred dollars, and all," said he.

I was beside myself. "How came you by it?" cried I, tearing it open, and finding all safe.

"I found it yesterday afternoon, about four o'clock, upon the Moldau Bridge."

How one may be deceived by a man's physiognomy! I was ready to throw my arms round the neck of my man-devil. I said the most obliging things to him.

My joy was now as excessive as my previous vexation had been. But he would listen to none of my thanks. I vowed that as long as I lived I would never again trust to physiognomical impressions.

"Remember me to your beautiful Fanny. A pleasant journey to you! We shall see each other again," said he, and departed.

RETURN HOME.

On the way home the strange Mandeville continually arose before my imagination. I could not forget the odd figure with the red coat, the club foot, and the ill-omened features. I could not help thinking, too, of the bushel of black hair which stood about his brow.

It is true he had brought back my pocket-book; no man in the world could have acted more honestly. He had read Fanny's letters, and my brother's instructions to me, and so, naturally enough, had become acquainted with my secrets. But -his face-no; nature could not have written so illegibly! Had I ever believed in the existence of a Mephistophiles I should have had no doubt of it now for a single moment.

But enough of this nonsense.

I had been two days and a night on my way home, and it was getting late on the second day. In vain did I scold the driver, and urge him on with words and money. It was growing later and darker, and I was becoming more and more impatient. Ah, I had not seen Fanny for

almost three months, nor my children, who bloomed at the side of their young mother like two rosebuds near a hardlyblown rose! I fairly trembled with delight, when I thought that my wife (the loveliest of her sex) would be in my arms that day.

It

It is true that I had loved before ever I had become acquainted with Fanny. I had once had a Julia, who had been torn from me by the pride of her parents, and wedded to a rich Polish nobleman. was our first love; to both bordering on mutual idolatry and distraction. At the moment of separation we had sworn eternal love, and kisses and tears had sealed the oath. But all the world knows how it goes with such things. She became the Countess St. and I saw Fanny. My love for Fanny was holier, riper, more tender. Julia was once the idol of my imagination, but Fanny was now the adored of my heart.

-

The clock of our little town struck one as we drove into the sleeping streets. I got out at the post-house, and leaving my servant behind me with my trunk, as I intended, in case all were asleep at home, to return and pass the night there, I walked out to the suburb, where the windows of my dear home, under the high nut-trees, glimmered in the moonlight

HATEFUL VISIT.

AND all slept! O, Fanny, Fanny, had you only been awake, how much grief and terror you would have saved me! They slept, my wife, my children, the domestics; nowhere any light! A dozen times did I walk round the house; all was fast; I would not disturb any one. Better the rapture of meeting in the morning hour, when one is refreshed by sleep, than in the feverish midnight.

Fortunately, I found my beautiful new summer-house open. I entered. There stood my Fanny's work-basket on a little table; and I saw, by the moonlight, on the table and seats the drums and whips of my children. They had probably spent the afternoon there. These trifles made me feel almost as if I were with my loved ones. I stretched myself upon the sofa, and determined to pass the night there. The night was mild and balmy, and the fragrance of flowers and garden-plants filled my apartment.

One who has not slept for forty hours finds every bed soft. In my weariness I soon fell asleep. But I had hardly closed my eyes when the creaking of the summerhouse door awakened me. I sprang up; I saw a man enter, and thought it was a thief. But imagine my astonishment; it was friend red-coat!

"Where do you come from?" said I. "From Prague. In half an hour I must set out again. I was determined to keep my word, and to see you and your Fanny as I passed through. I heard from your servant that you had gone on before, and I expected to find all awake at your house. You do not mean to pass the night here in the cold, damp air, and get sick?"

I went out into the garden with him, and quaked in every limb. In my secret heart, indeed, I laughed at this superstitious fear, and yet I could not rid myself of it. Such is human nature. The hard features of my Prague friend appeared by the pale moonlight even more terrible, and his eyes glittered even more brightly.

"You have really frightened me like a ghost," said I; “I tremble all over. How came you to seek me in my summerhouse? You seem to know everything."

He smiled maliciously, and said, "Don't you now know me, and what I want with you?"

"I don't know you now any better than I did at Prague. But, just for the joke, I will tell you how you appeared to me; you will not take it amiss; I thought that if you were not a wizard, you must be Satan himself.”

He grinned again, and replied, "What if I were Satan, would you make a bargain with me?"

"You will have to offer me much before I should give you my hand upon it. For truly, Mr. Satan, permit me to call you so just in joke, my happiness is complete."

and grinned. "But I speak the truth because you people do not any longer believe it. So long as truth was yet sacred among men Satan must needs be the father of lies. But now the case is reversed. We poor devils are always the antipodes of mankind."

"Then, in the present case at least, you are not my opponent; for I think just as you do, my philosophical Mr. Devil.”

"Good! then you belong to me already, Let a man give me a hold of a single hair, and I will have his whole head; and-but: it's cool here-my carriage is, I guess, all ready; I must start. So good-by."

He went. I accompanied him back to the post-house, where, indeed, his carriage stood waiting.

"I thought you would come in and drink a parting glass of punch with me, which I ordered before I went after you."

I accepted the invitation. The warm room was very agreeable.

THE TEMPTATION.

THE punch was standing on the table when we entered. A stranger was walking, moody and tired, up and down the room. He was a tall, meager, elderly man. Baggage was lying around on the chairs. I noticed a lady's shawl, bonnet, and gloves.

As we were drinking together the stranger said to a servant who brought in some baggage, "Tell my lady when she comes, that I have gone to bed. We must start early."

I determined not to return to the cool summer-house, but ordered a bed for the night. The stranger retired. The red gentleman and I chatted together, and drank the punch-bowl empty. The brandy warmed and exhilarated me. The red-coat hasted to his carriage, and as I helped him in he said, "We shall see each other again." With this the carriage rolled away.

When I went back into the room there was a lady there taking away the bonnet and shawl. As she turned toward me I lost all self-possession. It was Julia! my first love, upon an excursion to Italy, as I afterward learned. She was no less startled than I. "For heaven's sake, Robert, is it your spirit?"

"Julia!" stammered I; and all the rap