constant maxim, that man was formed for two purposes, to be virtuous and to be happy. He did not confine the latter term within the limits of any philosophical theory,-he understood happiness as the world, and not as the philosophers understood it. Being of a gay disposition he gave it free vent; and the levities of his youth were as much the subject of conversation as the heroism of his maturer years has become the theme of history.

He used to relate, with much pleasure, a kind of adventure which had occurred to him upon his first introduction into the great world-the court of Louis XIV. We here translate it freely as it is given in a French work of much literary reputation, which has just appeared in Paris, and attracted much attention.

The father of Turenne was persuaded that his son would make his fortune at Paris, but with that kind of blindness not uncommon to parents, he expected this desired event by means very little suited to the character and mind of the young Chevalier. Will it be credited that Turenne was sent to the court of Louis XIV. for the purpose of making his fortune by entering into the Sorbonne ?

Accordingly, with ten Louis d'Ors in his pocket, the young Turenne, was conducted by his father to the town nearest his paternal chateau, whence the good old gentleman saw his son safely into a provincial stage, and with many blessings left him on his road to Paris.

Turenne, when a few miles on his road, got into conversation with a fellow-passenger; and there being in the vehicle but this gentleman and himself, they soon became as much acquainted as if they had passed the whole of their lives together. Turenne himself was always noted for his candour and pleasantry, and the young Chevalier, his fellow-passenger, seemed much of the same character. There were no limits, therefore, to their mutual confidence. Turenne entered into a narrative of his expectations; and his companion, equally communicative, informed Turenne of all the circumstances of his situation.

Turenne learned, by this detail, that the name of his companion was the Chevalier Dupaty; that he was the son of an old citizen of Blois, and was going to Paris on a visit to a merchant, the old friend of his father, with the purpose of marrying the old gentleman's daughter. Old Monsieur Dupaty and the Parisian merchant had, it seems, been educated together, and though so separated by the events of their future life, that they had scarcely seen each other for twenty years, they had mutually retained that affectionate remembrance no uncom

mon in like situations. The old merchant, whose name is given as Monsieur St. George, had therefore sent an invitation to Monsieur Dupaty, to endeavour to unite their families; expressing in the same letter what he would give with his daughter, and what he should expect the young Dupaty would bring with him. The letter concluded, that if old Dupaty agreed to the proposal, the young Chevalier should be sent with a bag of five hundred crowns, and the nuptials be forthwith concluded. "Have you never seen your intended, Chevalier ?” said. Turenne.

"Never;" replied the young Dupaty.

"Nor the old gentleman ?" rejoined Turenne.

"Never, my friend;" re-added the Chevalier.

"It will be a singular union then," said Turenne; "but perhaps these things are not so much the worse for being done blind-folded: fortune may choose, perhaps, as well as ourselves."

In this conversation between the young friends, passed the whole interval on the journey, till their arrival at Paris. It was then agreed between the two companions, that they should stop at the same Inn. But scarcely had they reached this Inn, and were left alone in their chamber, when a very unexpected incident occurred. The young Dupaty was seized with a violent complaint in his bowels. Whether arising from the journey, or from any other cause, the disease was so violent, and instantaneous in its effect, that Turenne had scarcely time to call for help before his companion had expired.

There is a help for every thing but death.-Turenne retired to his bed, and revolved the incidents of the day, and his journey. Turenne was at an age when the spirit of mischief is supposed to predominate. Turenne rose in the morning, and going to the trunk of the deceased Chevalier, the keys of which Dupaty had given him previous to his unhappy catastrophe, he examined the contents; and taking the letters and the bag containing the five hundred crowns, sallies forth for the house of Monsieur St. George, having given previous orders for the burial of his friend. It may be here necessary to mention, that, by the regulations of Paris. every one was required to be buried within twelve hours after their decease.

On coming to the house of Monsieur St. George, Turenne ordered the porter to announce his arrival to his master. "Who am I to announce, Sir ?" said the porter. "The Chevalier Dupaty."

The porter had not lived in the family for nothing; he knew the family secrets as well as Monsieur St. George him

:

self. He eagerly, therefore, hastened to announce what he knew to be most agreeable intelligence.

In the mean time, Turenne, left by himself in a large parlour, had leisure to look around him; he found himself in one of those houses, or rather palaces, which belong to the higher order of merchants. Every thing bespoke the wealth of its owner. His reverie was interrupted by the entrance of the old gentleman, who, approaching in haste, precipitated himself into the arms of Turenne. Turenne returned his embraces with equal warmth. The old gentleman was enraptured at the figure of his intended son-in-law. He overwhelmed him with family questions, to all of which, the candid communication of his deceased friend, had enabled Turenne to return most satisfactory answers. Turenne delivered his letters. The old gentleman read them.

"You have brought then," said he, "the five hundred crowns which your father has mentioned in his letter ?”

Turenne replied to this interrogatory by putting the bag into the hands of the old gentleman.

"Good, my young friend," replied the worthy Monsieur St. George. "Your father, I perceive, is as much a man of business as myself. You will soon learn that my fortune, and what I shall give my daughter, did not require the addition of five hundred crowns, but I was willing that your father should have some share in the happiness of setting you going. I am a plain man, young gentleman, your father has done his part, and I shall now do mine."

With these words, he rang a bell; and, upon the entrance of a servant, commanded him to summon a priest by a certain hour in the same evening." In the meantime, you shall go and see my wife and daughter. It is fit that a young man should become acquainted with his wife."

Turenne was accordingly conducted to the drawing-room and introduced to a matronly woman, and a young girl of great beauty, the wife and daughter of the worthy merchant; who, after the ceremony of introduction, left the young Chevalier to recommend himself.

In this Turenne so effectually succeeded, that, by the hour of dinner, the ladies had become more than commonly satisfied with their new acquaintance. The good matron looked with pride upon the elegant figure and manly accomplishments of her intended son, and the young lady blushed with more meaning, but with equal satisfaction.

Turenne equally recommended himself during the dinner and dessert. The merchant almost crossed himself with surprise, how his old friend, the citizen of Blois, who was a pro

verb of niggardly economy, could have given his son so brilliant an education.

It was now becoming late; the priest was expected. Torenne, upon a sudden, rose ; assumed a look of solemnity, and beckoned the merchant to follow him. The merchant, in some surprise, obeyed.

Turenne descended the stairs, and entered the street. The merchant inquired whither, he was going? Turenne waved his hand. The merchant more astonished, continued to follow him.

It was the month of December, and therefore, though the hour was eight in the evening, it was foggy and dark as midnight. Turenne, holding the merchant by the arm, insensibly led him into the cloisters of the Monastery of the Benedictines, when suddenly stopping, "My friend," said he, " it is enough, I have discharged that for which it was permitted me to be absent, and must now return. Behold in me the Spirit of the young Chevalier Dupaty. I arrived in Paris at the Hotel de Pont Matre, at six o'clock yesterday evening, and died of the cholic about half an hour after my arrival. I need not tell you that my father had entrusted to my care a bag of five hundred crowns. My senses survived my speech, and made me anxious that as the match could not be concluded from the circumstance of my death, the money might return safe into the hands of my father. I must not declare further the secrets of the grave,-suffice it that the last wish of my life was the first of my death.-The permission was granted me. The thing is done, and the money safe.-I must now return to be buried.-This very hour is the time appointed for me to enter the grave.-Farewell."

With these words, whilst the merchant was fixed in motionless astonishment, Turenne disappeared, availing himself of the darkness of the night, and an obscure turn in the clois

ters.

After some moments of mute surprise, the merchant, rubbing his eyes, looked about him. Turenne, as we have said, had disappeared.— l'he merchant called,— -no one answered. In a word, the merchant became horror-struck, and recovered himself only to hurry home and relate the terrible adventure to his wife and daughter.

Terror has quick steps; he soon regained his own door, and knocked for entrance with unusual violence.

Before the door was opened, a cart with trunks came up to it. The merchant demanded from whence it came ? "From the Hotel de Pont Matre."

"From whom there ?" demanded the merchant eagerly.

R

"They are the trunks of the young Chevalier Dupaty," replied the carter.

"And where is the young Chevalier Dupaty ?" rejoined the merchant.

"In his grave by this time," replied the carter. "The bell of Notre Dieu was announcing the burial as I left the Inn." "What, the Chevalier is really dead then ?" said the merchant, his hair erecting itself with increased horror.

"Yes," replied the carter," dead as Adam. He arrived in the city yesterday afternoon, and died within half an hour afterwards.".

The merchant's door now opened; he stayed not to ask another question, but rushed up to relate to his wife the circumstances of the apparition.

The story got about Paris, and as Turenne was silent, it was almost generally believed that the young Chevalier Dupaty had appeared to the merchant St. George, as has been related.

END OF VOL. II.