with a deep sigh of pain.  All crowded around her in dismay.  The unfortunate Hermione was raised from the ground and conveyed to her chamber; and so much did her countenance and pulse alter within the short time necessary to do this, that those who looked upon her pronounced her a dying woman.  She was no sooner in her own apartment than she requested to be left alone with her husband.  He remained an hour in the room, and when he came out he locked and double locked the door behind him.  He then betook himself to the chapel, and remained there for an hour or more, prostrated before the altar.  In the meantime most of the guests had dispersed in dismay; though some abode out of courtesy or curiosity.  There was a general sense of impropriety in suffering the door of the sick lady’s apartment to remain locked; but, alarmed at the whole circumstances of her illness, it was some time ere any one dared disturb the devotions of the baron.  At length medical aid arrived, and the Countess of Waldstetten took upon her to demand the key.  She spoke more than once to a man who seemed incapable of hearing, at least of understanding, what she said.  At length he gave her the key, and added sternly, as he did so, that all aid was unavailing, and that it was his pleasure that all strangers should leave the castle.  There were few who were inclined to stay; when upon opening the door of the chamber in which the baroness had been deposited little more than two hours before, no traces of her could be discovered, unless that there was about a handful of light grey ashes, like such as might have been produced by burning fine paper, found on the bed where she had been laid.  A solemn funeral was nevertheless performed, with masses and all other spiritual rites, for the soul of the high and noble Lady Hermione of Arnheim; and it was exactly on that same day three years that the baron himself was laid in the grave of the same chapel of Arnheim, with sword, shield, and helmet, as the last male of his family.”

* * * * *

THE TOPOGRAPHER.

SAWSTON HALL.[1]

[Footnote 1:  The above brief account of a veritable old English Manor House, transcribed from a few rough notes, taken at the period of personal observation, is now supplied by the writer as an article entitled “The Siege of Sawston,” appears this month, in that clever and amusing work The United Service Journal.]

  Huge halls, long galleries, spacious chambers join’d
    By no quite lawful marriage of the arts,
  Might shock a connoisseur; but when combin’d
    Form’d a whole, which, irregular in parts,
  Yet left a grand impression on the mind
    At least, of those whose eyes are in their hearts. 
  We gaze upon a giant for his stature,
    Nor judge at first, if all be true to nature.

BYRON.