in forwarding this correspondence and in private missions; none of them, of either sex, could boast of having ever seen their mistress. She had no objection to converse even with strangers who could prefer a sufficient claim to this distinction, but never without a thick black veil which reached to her feet and entirely concealed her whole per son. To this lady the officious hostess posted away, to enquire whether she would accommodate the sick stranger. Another motive beside humanity-for why should she deny her sex--likewise influenced her conduct; she hoped on this unexpected occasion to obtain a sight of the hermitage, and perhaps be permitted to speak to the recluse, of whom she had heard so much. While the patient in the little chamber of the inn was sighing rather on account of her accommodations than her illness, and the host whose attendance she had de clined, went from vexation into the stable, and pulled the hay from his horse's manger, the landlady arrived at the turret, where the old porter began his examination. Her story was so well told, that the porter immediately forwarded the message, and in a few minutes received for answer that she might be admitted.' and when she entered, how slowly she walked that she might have the more time to take good notice of every object! She But on this side of the castle there was very little to be seen.The mysterious lady was an enthu siast, if enthusiasm may be used to denote the delight which is taken in the indulgence of whims, which cherish the sentiments dearest to our hearts, but without making us richer or wiser. The lady was likewise an eccentric character, for she gave herself not the least concern about what the world, from which she had secluded herself, would say of her caprices. was not however, deficient in good sense; she concealed from the eye of curiosity what vanity would have made a point of exhibiting; she wished not to excite interest by her conduct, and still less by her sensibility. Her garden was the place where she had erected a monument to her melancholy, and that was inaccessible to all. The inquisitive hostess could therefore discover nothing as far as she could see within the wall, but a beautiful green plat and an ancient building of grey stone. At the door of the house she was received by the aged female, by whom she was announced, and conducted into an apartment whose walls, hung with grey tapestry, exhibited nothing remarkable but an empty franie, appa How overjoyed was the good lit-rently placed there instead of a picle woman when the key grated in ture, and which at least afforded a the lock, and the bolt flew back! subiect of reflection for curious spectators who beheld nothing they coach, which was always kept in had expected to see. readiness for the mistress of the castle at a neighbouring farm-house "That must be she;" thought The patient was pleased with this the good hostess in the joy of her visit which seemed a favourable heart, when she heard somebody presage. The result, however, did coming, and immediately turned not appear so propitious for her as her eyes from the empty picture-she had expected. No sooner had frame to the door by which the old woman had gone. She beheld a female, not the lady of the castle but her confidante,a modestly dressed brunette of about eighteen ;— not handsome, but a fine figure, with a grave look and lively sparkling eyes. To her the hostess was obliged once more to repeat the object of her errand, which was once more communicated to the mistress of the castle. At length the latter a tall majestic figure, concealed by her black veil made her appearance. The result of the interview was, that the recluse offered her best services to the sick stranger, with the assurance that she would see whether it was possible to prepare accommodations for her in the cas the envoy cast her eyes upon the stranger, than she was thrown into an embarrassment which she communicated to the latter, and which increased with every minute. The antiquary engaged in decyphering an inscription, from which he promises himself a discovery of the utmost importance, cannot contemplate the illegible characters with more fixed attention than the confidante of the mistress of the castle gazed upon the features of the sick stranger. Being informed that she was a German, she did not wait to enquire her name, but hurried away to the coach as though she had been pursued by an enemy, or had to carry the first intelligence of the conclusion of a treaty of peace. "It is she! it can be no other!" exclaimed she on entering the a castle. tle; and if she found it impossible,partment of the mistress of the she would do all that lay in her powerto remedy the inconvenience of her situation. The good hostess was by no means satisfied at such an indefinite answer, and still less with what she had seen. Scarcely had she returned to the patient, and begun to reflect on the means of dispensing with the aid of the recluse, when the confidante appeared in a The lady rising from her sofa, slowly asked:-"No other than who?" "Than the sister of the man whose picture you once shewed me;" replied the confidante hastily. The lady heaved a deep sigh. and the glow of life tinged her cheek. "God be thanked," said she, while a tear started from her eye. "God be thanked that it is no other! the man whose picture you saw has no sister." The confidante looked at her as earnestly as one who can scarcely believe his senses. "Do you know for certain that he has no sister?" "Strange girl! (said the lady, with a clouded smile,) you would not pretend to teach me the history of the only person whom I know as perfectly as myself? Is the stranger a German ?" "So she says: (answered the confidante.) Besides, she speaks. French with a foreign accent." "Did you enquire her name?" "No." The lady was absorbed in thot'. "A German, and like him whose picture you have seen? My dear Leonora, you might imagine so, because you have seen the picture only once, or because you have seen nothing but the picture. At the same time it is extraordinary that, with this resemblance, she should be a German. And if your eyes or your memory have not deceived you "My eyes! (exclaimed the confidante.) Never was I so convinced of any thing in all my life as of this resemblance. And as to my memory! O that I were a painter, on every wall would I delineate the dear image-the large piercing eyes,the single wrinkle on the high forehead,the melancholy smile, the expressive outline of the whole face, and the invisible cloud which envelopes the whole feature." "Leonora !" cried the lady with enthusiastic vivacity, and pressed the hand of her confidante. "You must be dreaming, girl; can you see invisible clouds?" "Never mind the expression," said Leonora gravely; I cannot find any other for the sentiment excited in me by the picture whenever I call it to recollection There is a certain cloud upon the face which renders every beauty more beautiful. You must know what I mean. "Well, (rejoined the lady,) and is this cloud to be seen in the face of the sick stranger?" "No, it is not; and upon the whole, the face of the stranger differs in many respects from the picture. But I was so struck with certain features which as I thought were to be found only in the picture, with something of that kind which is called a family look, that I could at least swear this stran ger and the man who sat for that beautiful portrait, are nearly related." To be continued.] WINTER AT PARIS. [As described in a Parisian publication.] ADIEU, fine weather! adieu to the country!-The sun deserts us, the cold increases, the season becomes dull and rainy; the "orange trees are, put back into the greenhouses, the trees lose their verZure; the gardens are spoiled of their attractions. The public walks are deserted. Winter is set in.Winter at Paris begins early, and ceases late. It encroaches six weeks upon Autumn, and six upon Spring so that it may be said to last six months, or one half the year! This is a long time. It ought not, however, seriously to distress us. This long and melancholy season is not without its enjoyments; it is in the winter-time that people in the country rest,and that people in town get together. It is in Winter that society is all life that the play-houses are full that the ball-rooms are brilliant -that entertainments are more numerous and gay. Gourmands, coquettes, young people, politicians, shop-keepers, dramatic authors, gamblers, physicians, lovers, tavern-keepers, and many others, are fond of winter; and why should we have any objections to it? Il est des fleurs de toutes les saisons ; Il est des plaisirs de tous les ages. In fine without Winter should we enjoy the Spring? ab assuetis non fit passio. A LONDON WINTER. OUR Winter has nothing to do with the season-So far from commencing with the fall of the leaf, Winter does not begin till Nature shall have put forth the blossoms of regeneration. No woman who values her reputation for taste ventures to come to town for the Winter till the month of May and it is not unusual to see a family of the highest research postpone the burst of its entree into the winter circles till after the King's birth day. Every thing, to be fashionable, must be out of season. A dejeune is suffo cating if given before three o'clock in the afternoon. A man of fashion never takes the morning air in Rotten-Row till after sun-set. No evening party begins till midnight; and it is indispensable to the character of a member of parliament, that after a long debate he should go to his dinner at six o' clock in the morning. It must be dinner whatever be the hour, and however often he may have restored at Bellamy's. It is the sign of pure unadulte rated simplicity to act like the herd, who eat when they are hungry, and drink when they are thirsty; and the Parisians have made no higher attainments in ton than the Hottentots, if they regulate their hours by the diurnal sun, or their seasons by his place in the zodiac. The London Winter begins in April, and rages in May. It is then that our women of fashion find the weather deliciously inclement, and the only remedy against its rigour is in the comfort of compres sion. It is only by squeezing several hundreds more into a set of rooms than they were ever destined to contain, that the severity of a London Winter can be resisted. In Paris the people of fashion only s'approchent; in London they dovetail. It would be intolerable in a fashionable assembly at the west end of the town if there was room for enjoyment. Indeed the world itself is obsolete; for enjoyment belongs only to the miserable people, whom nobody knows. It is the invariable test and criterion of high breeding to counteract the rules of common life; and therefore to be at your ease in an assembly, into which you enter, is a disappointment. To remain in one place is a sign that you are not in request; and your triumph for the night consists in the number of crouds through which you have jostled. A woman of supreme attraction has her nights en suite, and she shines par excellence, who puts her friends to the greatest degree of oppression. To be able to stir is an an accident, and to get in or out you must watch for an opportunity. It is indispensable to character to treat every thing that is public with contempt, and never be seen in a place to which every body may go. It is the pinnacle of Ton therefore for a lady of fashion to open her own house for the benefit of some dear delightful Italian, who will bring all the world together, and yet keep it elegantly crowded.— This is at once conspicuous and economical. The lady gives a grand concert at home, and has fifty invitations as her part of the benefit. Oh, what a novelty in the refinement of houswifery! The lady of a duke, marquis, or earl, with a revenue of fifty thousand a year, sharing in the benefit of an Italian fidler! But it is the ton--and the character of the lady depends on the multitudes she can attract.Such is our gay season. THE TIP OF THE ELBOW. THIRTY years since, the elbow was the part of a fine woman she was most tenacious to conceal and protect from public view; it was first covered with a cambric sleeve small plaited, and a wristband and lace ruffle; then three falls or flounces of embossed muslin or rich lace; than three falls of rich brocade or satin ornamented with rich fringe, covered them; and to complete the dress, and to protect the tip of the elbow a piece of lead, large enough to make a dozen bullets, hung pendant; and there was nothing more frequent in the annals of chivalry, than for the favored lover to steal his mistress's lead to blow out the brains, if he had any, of his rival.--Flounces of course, led the fair wearer into a variety of unpleasant situations; such as in the extacy of having won a critical game at whist, whie |