which his father was so celebrated. His soldiers almost adore him, and he commands with a precision and a military eye which prognosticate a future general.' The bloom did not continue long on the cheek of this interesting being. His indefatigable exertions in discharge of his duties, as well as his continued studies, made the malady visible under which he was destined to sink. He had shot up to a great height, and was seized with cough, hoarseness, and other symptoms of pulmonary disease. He was frequently found in a state of extreme lassitude, after returning from his military duties, though he almost hid himself, to prevent its being known, fearing that the comparative frequency of intercourse with his fellowmen, which his military appointment had brought about, would terminate, by his being sent again into retirement. One day his physician, Dr Malfatti, entered, and found him lying on a sofa, completely exhausted; the prince exclaimed: 'I abominate this wretched body, that sinks under my will in this manner.'

‘You have set, monseigneur,' replied the physician, ‘a will of iron in a body of glass, and the indulgence of your will must be fatal.'

'The life of the prince was at that time, in fact,' says the physician, 'undergoing a process of combustion. He slept scarcely four hours, though, by nature, he required a great quantity of sleep; he scarcely ate at all. His soul was entirely concentrated in the routine of the ménage, and the different military exercises; he was, in truth, never at rest: he continued to increase in height, grew wretchedly thin, and his complexion gradually became livid. To all my questions, he answered: "I am perfectly well." The emperor was at length applied to by the physician, and the prince was sent, much against his wish, to Schönbrunn, where he rallied surprisingly. No sooner was he better, however, than he began to visit the nearest military stations, and to hunt, as the next best thing to war. Consumptive symptoms returned with increased force, and after severe suffering, he died on the 22d of July 1832, in the bed at Schönbrunn

which his father had occupied as the conqueror of Vienna. On opening his body, his lungs were found almost entirely wasted away.

The prince enjoyed on his death-bed the kind attentions of a mother. When laid on his bier, his resemblance to his father became much more striking than in life, though at all times it was obvious at a glance. On considering the history of this youth, it is impossible not to feel a degree of melancholy and regret. From what has been recorded of him, it is clear that he possessed great talents-energies but too mighty for the weak frame which contained them. On his birth hung apparently the destinies of an empire, and the event was announced by the thunder of a hundred cannon, and greeted with the acclamations of millions. Though in one sense not ungently dealt with, the development both of his mind and body, at the period when nature most demands freedom of growth, was cribbed and confined; and he lived and died, under the crushing pressure of a cold policy, little better than a captive in a foreign land. Under different circumstances, and a rational system of education capable of shewing the criminality of warfare, this young man, had he been spared, would have shone forth one of the most eminent of men.

THE TWO BLIND FIDDLERS.

WILLIE HODGE was a quiet inoffensive man, moving in a very humble walk of life, which he filled with great credit to himself, and with great satisfaction to everybody else. His calling was not, perhaps, a very dignified, but it was at least a very honest one. Willie was by profession an itinerant fiddler. He had the misfortune at an early age to lose his eyesight by the small-pox; and as this calamity, aggravated as it was by poverty, precluded

him from competing with the world in any of its more ordinary occupations, he turned his attention to music as a means of earning a livelihood; and he could not, perhaps, even although he had had his eyesight, have made a better choice, or one more suited to his genius, for he possessed a natural talent for the musical art, had a correct ear, and an excellent taste.

Thus qualified by nature for the profession which necessity had compelled him to adopt, Willie made rapid progress in the art of handling the bow, and soon became an expert and skilful fiddler. Having attained such a degree of proficiency as he thought might warrant him in making a public appearance, Willie, one evening, fiddle in hand, sought a quiet retired street, where he believed he should not be known, and there made his début. It was a successful one. He bagged a brace of sixpences, six brace of penny-pieces, and somewhere about a score of half-pence. Willie went home rejoicing; and enthusiast as he was in his profession, he thought the music of the clink in his pocket that night far surpassed the finest tones of his fiddle. From this hour, Willie became a regular public performer, and soon after, a well-known and much admired public character. Besides his street-practice, Willie enjoyed a fair share of private employment. He was very frequently engaged for weddings, balls, and other festive meetings in the environs of Edinburgh; and it was on one of these occasions, that Willie became acquainted with Jamie Dowie, a brother in trade and in misfortune-Jamie being also blind, and a fiddler.

The acquaintance of these two worthies first began by Willie borrowing Jamie's rosin, which was given with a frankness and cordiality that at once won Willie's heart. Their intimacy thus begun, soon ripened into a sincere and ardent friendship. They became inseparable companions, and finally went into a partnership, playing together in the streets, and dividing the benevolence of the public between them. Their fiddles were not more in unison than were the sentiments and dispositions of the fiddlers.

In all respects, the harmony between them was perfect, and was most pleasant to behold. If Willie got an invitation in his professional capacity to a merry-making, he was sure, if the thing was at all practicable, to lug in Jamie along with him; and Jamie, when he happened to be the person who was preferred, did the same kind office by Willie. In short, no friendship between two mortal men could be more disinterested or more intense. There was no rivalry, no feeling of jealousy between them. Willie rejoiced at Jamie's jobs, and Jamie felt no less happiness in Willie's. They assisted each other, too, with the greatest readiness and cordiality, on occasions when remuneration for one only was allowed, without fee or reward beyond the stray tumblers of porter, or half-tumblers of toddy, that were from time to time handed up to them, by way of increasing the energies of their elbows. It is true that on such occasions as those alluded to, the employed party invariably offered the other the half of his earnings; but equally true is it, that this offer was never accepted.

For many years this most exemplary friendship between Willie Hodge and Jamie Dowie continued with unabated fervour; nor, during all that time, had there ever been the slightest difference even of the most temporary nature between them. No quarrel, not an angry word. Some people thought it was too good to last; but those who thought so, knew nothing of the intensity of their feelings -knew nothing of the more than brotherly love that existed between the two blind fiddlers, and the test of years should have satisfied them of the groundlessness of their fears. The occurrence must have been an extraordinary one indeed, that could have divided two such fond hearts. Certes, however, such an occurrence might present itself.

Although the street and the dancing-room were the chief marts to which Willie and Jamie brought their music, yet they did not always confine themselves to these fields of operation. They were both possessed of an adventurous and enterprising spirit, and given to

occasional speculations in steam and track boat excursions, when they sometimes picked up something considerable; but, as Willie often said: "It was just a lottery, and couldna be depended on. I hae seen us,' he would add, when speaking confidentially to a friend, 'play frae Port Hopetoun to Lock 16 without turnin' a penny, and at anither time I've seen us bag half-a-croon before we got to Ratho.' This state of the case, Jamie, when present, always corroborated. Both Jamie and Willie, therefore, gave a decided preference, on the whole, to the regular, steady business of the street, where the average of their earnings was at once pretty regular, and fair in amount.

One little trait amongst many in the friendship of the two fiddlers, was their occasionally retiring after the labours of the evening, and taking a social gill together. No more, however-not a drop; and even this only on occasions of unwonted success.

We have said that there were those who doubted the uninterrupted duration of the love of Willie and Jamie; but we at the same time remarked, as the reader will recollect, that these persons had no good grounds to go upon for any such insinuation. We also admitted, however, that it was certainly quite possible, that something might occur to disturb the harmony between them, perfect and long continued as it had been. In truth, such a circumstance, sorry are we to say it, did occur. The demon of mischief, envious of their felicity, resolved to mar it, but, using no supernatural agency, he set about effecting his diabolical purpose by mere human means. We will explain.

One night as Willie and Jamie were performing together in a certain quiet street in the city, a person dressed like a gentleman, and in other respects, to all appearance, really such, came up to them, and after listening for a short time with evident satisfaction to their music, which was indeed very agreeable to hear, he requested them to play a particular air. They complied. The stranger bespoke another and another;