after the marriage, Oliver sought five minutes' conversation with his newly-made brother-in-law; and his first act, when they were alone, was to hand Lim the anonymous letter he had received on the day of the masquerade, in which was mentioned the color of the ribbons worn by Madame Oliver at the ball, as a sign by which Steinfeld was to distinguish her amongst the crowd of dominos." "Good!" said Carcassonne emphatically. "And what said the Kaiserlic ?" "Denied every thing, until Oliver recapitulated, word for word, certain phrases of the conversation he had overheard. This struck him dumb; but soon he recovered his effrontery, and expressed surprise at Oliver's reviving the subject, especially at that moment." "Since you deemed it advisable to overlook the offence at the time, and to promote my marriage with your sister-in-law, I cannot understand your motive for now raking up the grievance.' "I will explain,' replied Oliver. I married you to my sister-in-law that you might never be my widow's husband, whether I die a few months hence, by the hand of God, or to-morrow by yours, in the duel which shall no longer be delayed.'" "The devil!" shouted the captain, at this announcement. "Your friend Oliver is the wrong man to jest with, I see that. But will he really fight his sister's husband?" tractive as his bride was, her personal charms weighed far less with him than her golden ones. Even in these he had been somewhat disappointed. Although considerable, they were less than Fatello's round-numbered generalities had led him to expect; and, moreover, when the time came to discuss the settlements, the banker fought hard to secure his sister-in-law's fortune upon her own head and that of her children. This, however, Steinfeld vigorously resisted, urging the necessity of extricating his estates from pawn; and Sebastiana, enamored of her handsome bridegroom, and whose ardent and jealous imagination drew a romantic picture of a tête-à-tête existence in a secluded chateau, far from the rivalries of a capital, expressed so strongly her will to apply her fortune in the manner Steinfeld desired, that Fatello, after much opposition, and with no good grace, was compelled to yield the point. The sum thus placed in the Austrian's power, although less than he had anticipated, was yet so large to a man in his position, that its possession threw a pleasant rosecolored tint over his existence, of which the prospect of poverty, and the annoyances of duns, had for some time past deprived it. So that when, upon his wedding-day, Fatello fiercely taxed him with his perfidy, repeated the words of insult he had addressed to him on the morrow of the masquerade, and insisted upon a duel, the baron did "He really will," replied Fatello, calmly. all in his power to pacify him, urging their new "Should you scruple, in his place?" but near connection as an insuperable obstacle to a quarrel, and even humbling himself to express contrition for his offence, which he persisted, however, would have been viewed as but a venial one by any but so morbid, jealous, and vindictive a person as Fatello, and which, in no case, consid "By my soul, it's hard to say, till one is tried. We are used in Africa to hear fellows reckoning on your boots before we think of leaving them off. But that hurts neither us nor the boots, whilst a man's wife-It is aggravating certainly, particularly to a man of your Oliver's temper. Aering the relation they now stood in to each other, saint or a priest might not approve, but, as a soldier and sinner, I must say revenge, in such a case, seems sweet and natural." could be held to justify them in seeking each other's life. But to his expostulations, apologies, and arguments, Fatello replied with such savage invec Then," said Fatello, "I may reckon on your tive and ungovernable violence, taunting the baron assistance to-morrow?" "On my assistance!-I-you! What the devil do you mean?" cried Carcassonne, dropping his pipe, and starting from his seat in extraordinary perturbation. 66 with cowardice, and threatening him, if he refused the reparation demanded, with public exposure and manual chastisement-threats, of whose execution Fatello's intemperate character and colossal frame (the latter still muscular and powerful in spite of the disease mining it) allowed very little doubtthat Steinfeld saw there was no alternative but to accept the meeting; and, assuming the cold and Merely that my friend Oliver and your friend Fatello are one and the same person, whose business here to-night is to ask you to second him in his duel to-morrow with Baron Ernest von Stein-haughty tone of an injured man, he briefly arranged feld, married this morning to Mademoiselle Sebastiana Gonfalon." CHAP. V.-THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDING. IT may easily be imagined that Steinfeld, brave as he unquestionably was, did not feel particularly pleased at finding himself called upon to risk his life in a profitless duel, at the very moment when that life had acquired fresh value in his eyes, through his acquisition of a pretty wife and a handsome fortune. The former, it is true, the baron, whose utter selfishness made him incapable of love in the higher sense of the word, prized only as a child does a new plaything, or an epicure a fresh dish presented to his sated palate. Pretty and at with Fatello its principal conditions. To avoid scandal, and to insure, as far as possible, the safety of the survivor, the duel was to take place in the grounds of a country house belonging to the banker, at about a league from Paris, and the seconds and surgeon were to be pledged to the strictest secresy. Fatello named Captain Carcassonne, and Steinfeld the Viscount Arthur de Mellay, between whom the details of the affair were to be settled. Both the principals, however, in this singular duel, were destined to experience difficulties from the friends they had fixed upon to second them. Captain Carcassonne, who himself cared no more for a duel than an English prizefighter does for a round with the gloves, and who never slept a wink second entered a small door in the paling of the banker's park, at a short distance from which they had dismissed their hackney coach. Fatello, Carcassonne, and Dr. Pilori, had preceded them in the banker's carriage. The five men met upon the bowling-green surrounded by trees, which, although leafless, were so thickly planted as to form an impervious screen. More for form's sake and the satisfaction of conscience, than with hope of success, the seconds essayed a reconciliation. The attempt was rendered fruitless by Fatello's firm determination; and after a brief conference between the viscount and Carcassonne, the combatants were placed at twenty paces. It was agreed they were to fire together, when six had been counted. The seconds stepped aside. Carcassonne counted. When he came to "six" a single report followed. Steinfeld staggered. De Mellay ran to him. Nothing" said the baron. "My dear brotherin-law shoots better than I thought, that is all." And he showed a rent made by Fatello's bullet in the front of his tightly-buttoned surtout, near the waist. A button had been cut away, and the ball had grazed the skin, but without drawing blood. "This shall not avail you, sir," cried Fatello, in a tone of indescribable exasperation. "We came to fight, not to play. Fire, sir!" stood sideways, expecting his adversary's bullet. And he the fewer, or ate a mouthful less breakfast before thick upon the ground, when Steinfeld and his going out to fight one, was seized with a sudden trepidation when he learned that his friend, whom he well knew to be unskilled in fence and fire, was to enter the field with a man reputed expert in both. At first he would not hear of the meeting taking place, swearing, in direct opposition to what he had before said, that he should not think of fighting for such a trifle. When this plea was overruled, bright idea struck him. He would pick a quarrel with Steinfeld, and wing him with a pistol-shot, or spoil his beauty with a sabre-cut, just as Fatello chose; ay, would kill him outright, if nothing less would satisfy his vindictive friend. But Fatello, whose morbid desire of revenge had assumed the character of a monomania, rejected all the captain's plans; and Carcassonne, whose affection and deference for his old companion and benefactor were unbounded, ceased to make objections, and fixed his thoughts solely upon the necessary preliminaries. As to Fatello's announcement of the danger his life was in from lurking disease, (a danger more remote, but also more certain than that he would incur upon the morrow,) it would deeply have grieved the worthy captain had he attached the least credit to it; but his contempt for doctors and their prognostications prevented his dwelling on it longer than to give a smile to the credulity of his friend. Meanwhile, Steinfeld had some trouble with de Mellay. It not being the fashion in France for newly-married couples to escape from the place of their wedding as fast as four posters could carry them, the baron had taken his bride to his house in the Rue St. Lazare, which a little arrangement had adapted for their residence during the few days that were to elapse before their departure for Germany. There, upon the evening of his wedding-day, he had a conference with the viscount, who, startled, like Carcassonne, at the news of the projected duel, insisted on full explanations before consenting to render Steinfeld the service required of him. These explanations Steinfeld was compelled to give; and although he spread over them a varnish favorable to himself, de Mellay plainly saw that the part the Austrian had played in the whole affair did him no credit, and that Fatello's extraordinary vindictiveness, if not justified, was in some degree extenuated, by his adversary's perfidious manœuvres and gross breach of hospitality. He at first insisted on attempting a reconciliation, but Steinfeld having convinced him of its impossibility, he would not refuse to stand by an intimate friend and companion, who had more than once gone upon the ground with him. He suggested, however-almost, indeed, made it a condition-that the baron should fire wide, or not at all the first time, in doing which he ran little risk, for Fatello was known to be unskilled with the pistol. De Mellay resolved to place the duellists as far apart as possible, and to make them fire together. He made sure Fatello would miss the first shot, and that then, if Steinfeld had not fired, the affair could easily be made up. It was three in the afternoon, and the snow lay Steinfeld smiled bitterly. Then raising his pistol, he took aim at a red-breast, which, scared from the bough by Fatello's fire, had again settled, tamed by cold and hunger, upon a sapling fiveand-twenty paces off. Bark and feathers flew at the same time, and the unlucky little bird lay disembowelled upon the snow. Carcassonne and de Mellay exchanged a word or two, and advanced towards Fatello. "Enough done, my dear Sigismund," said the captain. "After the baron's forbearance, this can go no further." Fatello's reply was a torrent of imprecations. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks pale as death; he was insane with passion. The captain in vain endeavored to soothe and calm him. He raged and stormed like a madman. "Monsieur Fatello," said de Mellay, with surprise-almost with disgust-" for Heaven's sake compose yourself. This persistence is unworthy of you. What injury have you received to justify such malignity? Neither your second nor myself can let this affair proceed, otherwise than to a reconciliation." There was a decision in the young man's tone and manner that seemed to strike Fatello and check his fury. For a moment or two he gazed silently at the viscount, as if recalled to reason by his remonstrance. It was the trick of the maniac to put the keeper off his guard. Suddenly pushing Carcassonne aside, he reached, in two bounds, a pistol-case that lay open at a short distance, and seizing one of the weapons, levelled it at Steinfeld. With a cry of horror, de Mellay and Carcassonne threw themselves before the baron. "This is murder!" exclaimed the viscount. Stop!" !" said Steinfeld, pale, but quite calm. "Wait a moment, sir, and you shall be satisfied. There is no alternative, my dear de Mellay. Monsieur Fatello insists. Give me the other pistol." De Mellay hesitated, and looked at the captain. "Ma foi!" said Carcassonne, shrugging his shoulders, as if he thought a bullet more or less hardly worth so much discussion-" if they will have it!" The principals resumed their ground, and the word was again given. This time both pistols were discharged. Steinfeld stirred not, but Fatello fell to the ground and lay there with out motion. Dr. Pilori ran forward, and kneeling beside him, unbuttoned his coat. There was a small blue spot on the breast, from which oozed a drop or two of blood. The doctor seized the wrist of the fallen man. Steinfeld and the seconds gazed anxiously in his face, awaiting his verdict. "I aimed at his arm," said Steinfeld gloomily, "but the cold made my hand shake." Carcassonne seemed not to hear the remark. De Mellay glanced at the baron, and ther. at the bird that lay upon the blood-sprinkled snow more than twenty yards off. "Quite dead," said Pilori, letting the arm fall. "It is a painful thing to kill a man," added the materialist doctor to Steinfeld, who stood regarding his victim with a moody and regretful gaze. "It may be satisfactory to you to know that he could not have lived six months longer." In France, a few years ago, duels, even when fatal in result, did not necessarily entail strict judicial investigation, unless such investigation was provoked by the friends of the fallen man. In the instance here recorded, no one thought proper to take vindictive steps. Fatello's coachman was instructed, and largely bribed, to say that his master had been struck with apoplexy in his carriage, and that, on discovering his condition, he had at once driven him to Dr. Pilori. The physician's arrival at the house, in company with the corpse, and the absence of hemorrhage from the wound, rendered it easy to conceal the latter, and gave plausibility to the story, which found general credit. It was not till several days afterwards that a report spread of the real cause of the banker's death. Even then it attained little publicity, and by many was looked upon as a malicious fabrication. Before it got wind, however, the survivors of the domestic drama we have narrated, were far from its scene. By a will made a month before his death, Fatello had left the whole of his great riches, with the exception of some munificent donations to public charities, and of an ample legacy to Captain Carcassonne, to a cousin of his own name in Alsace. But he could not alienate his wife's fortune, or deprive her of the splendid jointure secured to her by her father's cautious greediness; and these constituted very large wealth, with which his widow, shortly after his death, left Paris for her native country. Her Parisian friends and acquaintances were edified, in the highest de gree, by the grief she displayed at Fatello's decease. She was disconsolate; and, for at least a day and a half, "cette pauvre Madame Fatello" was the prevailing topic of conversation, and the object of universal sympathy. Henpecked husbands held her up as a model of conjugal affection; and wicked wives secretly wondered at the poignant regret shown by such a young, rich and handsome widow, for so ugly, unprepossessing, and morose a man. But it occurred to no one to seek the cause of her excessive grief in a bridal wreath instead of in a funeral shroud; to trace the source of her sorrow to the loss of an expected husband whom she passionately loved, not to that of a departed one, whom she never regretted. Although little apprehensive of persecution, many motives concurred to render Paris an undesirable residence for the survivor of the duel in which Fatello met his death. The day after the fatal meeting, a travelling carriage left Paris by the road to Brussels. It contained Ernest von Steinfeld and his bride. In spite of some practice in duelling, and of the triple armor of selfishness in which he was habitually cased, there was a cloud upon the baron's brow, which change of scene and the caresses of his young wife did not always suffice to dissipate. And, although sensible to his bride's beauty and fascination, and grateful, as far as it was in his nature to be so, for the passionate affection she showed him, it may be doubted whether he would not have repulsed her endearments, and spurned her from him, had he detected a secret that lay buried in the innermost recesses of her heart—had he recognized, in Sebastiana Gonfalon, the writer of the two anonymous letters that tended so materially to bring about her marriage and the violent death of Sigismund Fatello. As it was, the Baroness von Steinfeld had not long to congratulate herself on the success of her culpable manœuvres, whose sole extenuation was to be found in the fiery passions of her race, and in a moral education totally neglected. Doubtless, when planning and carrying out her guilty scheme, the possibility of so terrible a result never occurred to her; and it were attributing improbable deprav ity to one so young to doubt that she felt remorse at the catastrophe. She did not long await her punishment. Bright as were her hopes of happiness when led to the altar by the man she adored, she soon was bitterly convinced, that no true or permanent felicity could be the consequence of a union achieved by guilty artifice, and sealed with a brother's blood. A few months were sufficient to darken her destiny and blight her joys. Her fortune swallowed up by Steinfeld's debts and extravagance, her person speedily became indifferent to the sated and cold-hearted voluptuary; and whilst her reckless husband, faithful to nothing but to his hatred of matrimonial ties, again galloped upon the road to ruin, in the most dissipated circles of the Austrian capital, she saw herself condemned to solitude and unavailing regrets, in the very castle where she had anticipated an existence of unalloyed bliss. From Chambers' Journal. most as strange, but not, like these, militating against the fundamental laws of botanical science. FREAKS UPON FLOWERS, FRUITS, AND TREES. It is difficult to refuse belief to the numerous LORD BACON says, with characteristic energy, authorities that can be quoted for the strange "Our experiments we take care to be either of freaks which have sometimes been played upon use or discovery, either light-bestowing or fruit- fruits. It is said—and we leave the responsibility producing, for we hate impostures, and despise of the assertion to those who can better verify it— curiosities. Yet because we must apply ourselves that gardeners have succeeded in, so to speak, somewhat to others, we will set down some curi- casting their fruits into moulds, just as a cook osities touching plants." Not quite sharing his does her jellies! Thus, for instance, apples have opinions about curiosities, since it is never safe to been made to assume the shape of human heads, say that a curiosity may not produce light, or even of the heads of animals, and of mathematical figbear fruit in due season, and thus contain the germs ures, though of course with no great sharpness of utility, while it may be always useful when it of outline or fidelity of detail. Cucumbers have stimulates men to reflection upon the abstract prin- been elongated into walking-sticks, or expanded ciples which combined to bring it forth, we have into spheres. Even the forms of dragons and come, though by a somewhat different route, to other monstrous productions have been produced the same conclusion with the stupendous author by properly treating these plastic fruits. The of the "Novum Organum." We propose in this method of accomplishing such freaks has been to place to set down some singular "curiosities touch-place a mould of clay or wood consisting of seving plants;" curiosities which have had their ori-eral pieces, so as to admit of being removed when gin, not in what we call "freaks of nature," but the monstrosity was ripe, over the young fruit. in the horticultural gambollings of some oddity-As this increased in size, its expanding tissues ashunting gardeners. If in no other respect direct-sumed the form of the cavity in which they found ly useful, our paper will not serve a mean end if themselves confined. The famous finger-fruit of it brings into prominence the very remarkable and China is never produced on the same plant after it valuable fact, that the laws conferred by the All- has passed from the gardener's into the purchaser's wise Author of Creation upon the vegetable king- hands. Is it possible that the expert Celestial dom are of such latitude, as to admit of certain horticulturists adopt a moulding process of this modifications under the influence and direction of kind? It becomes us, however, to speak circumhuman skill, which may be, as they have been,spectly of such freaks; and we will therefore prorendered subservient to the real or artificial necessities of mankind. ceed to notice others upon which more decided language is permissible. The next class-one still more curious than the preceding-was the custom of drugging fruits as they grew upon the trees! By this ingenuity orchards were to be turned into apothecaries' shops; here a tree would bend down laden with cathartic apples, there another with literally sleepy pears; grapes would become powerful pills; and plums represent, in more senses than one, boluses! To what end this re in the words of one of the enthusiastic advocates of the plan-" In order that those who dislike medicine in the ordinary forms, may take it, even with pleasure, in this way;" finding out, of course, probably to their subsequent dismay and perplexity, that where they had been, as they thought, It is amusing to notice with what unbounded credulity ancient writers have received accounts of the extent of man's plastic power over the vegetable world; and it may be mentioned as a singular circumstance, that in the abounding works on natural magic, which turned the brains of philosophers in the seventeenth century, this art generally occupies an important place. Ludicrous recipes for effecting all sorts of marvels in vegetable phys-markable contrivance ? Let the answer be given iology are extant. Jean Baptista Porta would teach his disciples the following feats of horticultural skill-How to turn an oak into a vine; how to produce naturally stony fruit without stones; and the delightful art-how to produce kernels without shells, so as to save the trouble of nutcracking; moreover, how to incarnadine the gold-taking dessert, they had been swallowing drugs. en-colored melon; how to blanch the ruddy pur- If we are to believe the accounts given of the prople of the mulberry; how to give a blush to the cesses for effecting this odd end, there were four white cheek of the lily, and a pallor to the too vi- methods of physicking the unfortunate trees. The olent warmth of the rose; how also to give balmy most common was to cut a hole in the branch, and fragrance to the scentless flowers, or, sad perver-fill it with the drug. Now it must be mentioned, sion! to turn an agreeable odor into a repulsive one; how to change bitter almonds into sweet; and lastly, most marvellous of all, how to bestow sweetness of flavor, and even perfume, upon the onion! We need scarcely say these are all fables; they will be instantly detected as such by any child of the present age. The exaggeration must not, however, be allowed to cast discredit over the whole art; for unquestionable facts are to be adduced, which prove the possibility of effects al | that if the drugs were thus really inserted in quantities at all likely to affect the properties of the fruit, the probability would be that they would kill the tree. However, therefore, we may feel disposed to credit the fact of an attempt to produce medicated fruit, and it seems unquestionable, the strongest suspicion must attach to all accounts of the medicinal effects of such productions. It appears at one period in the seventeenth century to have been a distinct business, by which persons got their livelihood, selling fruit like antibilious | tween the wiry habit of the birch and that of the pills, two apples for a dose, and a grape for a beech will be a curiosity in itself. Something of good night's rest. this kind was seen by Decandolle, the eminent French botanist, at Chalonnes. The graceful and luxuriant branches of a young cherry-tree were seen overshadowing a hoary trunk, the sprouts of which exhibited the peculiar form which characterize the leaves of the oak. Here, then, was the apparent union of a cherry and an oak, the origin of which was, that a cherry-stone had accidentally dropped into a hollow oak-trunk, and in process of time filled the old cavity with its own question, an event of a similar kind has been either accidentally or intentionally produced. Bacon tells us that it was a common curiosity to have an omni-productive tree, and describes in general terms the method of its manufacture. For instance, if we would have a tree bearing a number of different flowers, the very simple method of effecting it is, to bore certain holes in the trunk, to fill them with earth, and then to sow the seeds of the flowers in the earth. With the peculiar intuition of genius, he says in language far before any subsequent age but our own, “I doubt whether you can have apples, pears, and oranges on the same stock as plums." The art of grafting led, as may well be imagined, to a vast number of horticultural tricks upon trees, some genuine, others mere ingenuities of fraud. Thus an old writer says, "I have seen a tree which bare several different kinds of fruit. It was of a good size, and was planted in a large flower-pot filled with very rich earth, in order to sustain the large demand made on it by the tree for sustenance. It bare three branches. Of these, one held clusters of grapes of more than one kind, | stem. Now, doubtless, in some of the cases in some being medicated, and of these, some were soporifics, others aperients. The second branch bare peaches without stones; and the third, two kinds of cherries, some sour, others saccharine. The bark of this wonderful tree was adorned with roses, and other flowers which grew upon it!" Pliny also informs us that in the garden of Lucullus there was a celebrated tree which teemed with ripe pears, apples, figs, plums, olives, almonds, and grapes! But this passes beyond even the probability of a fraud. Virgil, who is said to be the earliest author that makes mention of the act of grafting, speaks in some respects poetically when he talks of trees green with foliage, and ripe with fruits not their own; and altogether so when he tells us that the rough-tasting cherry blooms upon the mild nut-tree of the plane, laden with great and rosy apples; of the beech all white with the flowers of the chestnut, and the ash with those of the pear; and, to cap the climax, of pigs regaling upon dainty feasts of acorns under the shadow of a towering elm! In addition to these, accounts have passed current of roses becoming deep red by being grafted on a black currant bush; of oranges becoming blood-red by being united to the pomegranate; of jasmines becoming yellow by union with orange-trees; and, stranger still, of roses becoming green by being grafted on a holly-tree. Evelyn says positively he saw a rose grafted on an orange-tree when he was travelling in Holland. How are these things to be explained, when it is remembered that the fundamental principle of the art consists in the rule, that plants of a different genus cannot be made to intergraft? Often, indeed, different species of the same genus refuse to unite in this way; therefore it is monstrous to suppose that a number of totally distinct genera could coëxist upon a single stock. Yet, on the other hand, it is not justifiable to consider all these accounts as actually fabulous; we do not doubt that John Evelyn really saw what he believed to be a rose grafted on an orangestock. Sometimes the same sort of freak occurs in nature by an accident. The seed of a birch may, for example, have been blown by the wind into the mouldering hollow of a beech; it there takes root downwards, and sends the young shoot upwards, and in time becomes a young tree. If, now, some of the branches of the beech are yet alive, the spectacle presented by such an object will be sufficiently strange, and the contrast be Undoubtedly, then, we must consider the explanation of these freaks to be, simply, that when they were actually contrary to nature's laws, they were only cheats; and where they were not, as in the fabrication of a flower-tree, they were just gardeners' gambols. One of the most learned writers in the art of grafting, M. Thouin, who has taken the pains to count up, and classify and christen all the different styles of grafting, calling them after this fashion à la Banks, à la Buffon, to the number of forty different varieties, enumerates last the Virgilian graft: this was thus effected; a hole was bored across the diameter of a walnut-tree, and a vine branch was passed through it while yet in connection with its parent stem; after a little time the branch was cut off, and it was said it would then be found united to, and growing upon, the walnut. This has been very properly questioned, not as to the fact, but as to the nature of the union. It was not a true graft; the wood of the tree may have supplied nutriment to the branch, not by union of its vessels, but by the decay of the parts surrounding it. From the nature of the case, such a union could be but short-lived. This may therefore furnish us with a clue to the explanation of some of the monstrous vegetable unions which the perverted ingenuity of man has endeavored to effect. We are not, however, to consider our ancestry as the sole perpetrators of these various freaks; they prevail even to the present day. The traveller in Genoa or in Florence, may, without any difficulty, beyond a pecuniary one, probably of some magnitude, become the fortunate possessor of a tree almost as wonderful as those of which casual *M. Thouin, Art de la Greffa. |