"These are no empty words I speak. Arts existed amongst ourancestors; and if they did not appear to have been systematically cultivated, yet they manifested themselves distinctly by many a specimen of artistic skill: our songs, our holy pictures, and our beautifully engrossed MSS. may serve you as examples. Architecture has left yet more striking remains, so numerous and so beautiful, that our new buildings, buildings without any character and originality, alien to the Russian spirit and wants, appear beside them quite meaningless and out of place. Here the question arises: Is national architecture possible for us, and how may we find its principles, and form its rules? It is only by studying and analyzing the remaining antique monuments; and strange as it may appear, we find the most striking indices at the first glance, in the two kinds of buildings that have retained their primitive characters, the Churches and the peasants' dwellings. And so it should be. Let the Church and the peasant's cottage serve as the foundation of Russian art, even as faith and nationality serve as the foundation of Russian glory."

*

We have gained much information about Russian habits from this little book, and we can only regret that some few expressions, and one or two matters, should detract from the pleasure we have experienced. If a little care were shown in the preparation of a future edition, and these blemishes removed, it would become a great and deservedly popular favourite, and not the least so that part of it in which we are favoured with young Russia's dream.

A TALE OF INNSPRUCK.

THE town of Innspruck, which boasts the title of "Capital of the Tyrol," and is certainly most picturesque and interesting, has lain for many a long year very quiet and undisturbed on the banks of the wild river Inn. Of late, however, it has suddenly been called into notice by the unexpected arrival within its walls of the Austrian emperor. This event has, by all accounts, thrown that mountain-girt town into a state of great confusion and excitement, -a change not easily realised by one whose last recollection of it is that of the most peaceful and romantic spot it is possible to imagine. Some few years have elapsed since our visit to Inuspruck; and whatever may be its present aspect, it certainly seemed to us then one of the pleasant places of the earth, when, after all the perils of a snow storm in the Tyrol, we at last found shelter there.

We shall not soon forget the remarkable appearance of the *E.g. such as " 'Upon my soul," &c., which the old Squire is in the habit of using.

Tyrolean capital, as we walked the narrow streets on that fine summer evening; and still more vivid is our remembrance of the singular tale connected with it which was told us that same day.

Nothing could be finer than the scene which first met our eyes on quitting the hotel at which we had alighted. An enormous rampart of snow-capped cliffs rose abruptly behind the range of stately German buildings which lined the streets; and more distant, though not less imposing, the bold outline of the gigantic mountains stood out in strong relief against the clear sky, glowing with the crimson hues of the sunset. Close at hand, the rapid foaming torrent of the Inn came rushing between its steep and rocky banks, spanned by the famous_wooden bridge where so noble a battle was fought during the Tyrolese war. Our guide, however, left us little time to look at these things, so desirous was he to hurry us on to what he considered the crowning beauty of his native town,-the justly celebrated Franciscan church, which our great countryman, Sir Walter Scott, travelled so many miles

to see.

Our conductor was an intelligent and enthusiastic German, violently patriotic, and disposed to look upon Innspruck (which he had never quitted) as the most wonderful place in the world. He had an anecdote or a tale to tell us connected with almost every building we passed. As we entered the church, however, he became completely silent, and we ourselves were overpowered with a feeling of mingled awe and admiration at the scene which presented itself before us. In the centre of the nave stood a splendid sarcophagus of marble, on which knelt a kingly figure, of dignified and solemn aspect, turning his face, with its rigid and noble features, towards the altar, as though he were in devout contemplation of the mysteries thereon exhibited. On either side of him, seeming to guard that imperial form from all profane touch, stood a majestic range of colossal bronze statues, of as stately an appearance as ever was given to the imitation of the human form. Some were attired as armed knights, some as ladies of the sixteenth century; and, twenty-eight in number, they formed, as it were, an avenue leading up to the altar, towards which all were turned.

Nothing could be more startling than the effect produced by this stately company, all so life-like and so solemn in appearance; their colossal size rendering them still more imposing. It was scarce possible not to imagine that they were engaged in some silent and mysterious act of worship, thus seen in the dim lamp-light, whose flickering shadows gave them at times the delusive appearance of life. These magnificent statues were executed in the year 1529, by a Tyrolese artist.

When we had completed our survey of this very interesting church, our guide proceeded to conduct us through the usual routine of sight-seeing,-a duty which we for once did not object

to perform, as not only the objects themselves were interesting, but the appearance of the town was so quaint and picturesque, that we greatly enjoyed walking through it. We saw the grave of Hofer, whose body was brought hither from Mantua, where he was shot, and who now reposes once more in the land he loved so well. From thence we went to the palace of Maria Theresa, and the University, neither of which, to tell the truth, are at all remarkable; and lastly to the Capuchin Church, where we found much to interest us. We were shown the cell in which Maximilien, Archduke of Austria, used to spend a fortnight every year in the performance of the most severe penances; and a strange old picture of the Madonna, which is believed by the inhabitants of Innspruck to possess miraculous powers.

The twilight was fast closing in, when at last we walked up the Neustadt, with the intention of returning to our hotel. We had arrived close to an old monastic-looking building, when our attention was attracted by a strange and most unwieldy vehicle, which came rumbling up, and drove under the portico through which we were about to pass: it was a sort of leathern van, closed on all sides, and drawn by two oxen. No sooner had it stopped, than the door of the monastery opened, and a number of black-robed monks rushed out and crowded round the carriage, resembling most closely a swarm of bees quitting their hive. The crowd was so great, that we had to wait a few minutes, while they drew back the curtains of this primitive conveyance, and welcomed with delight a fine old man who was seated within it. They assisted him to descend, for he was very feeble; and having guided him into the monastery, they all followed and closed the door. We then passed on, and our guide informed us that it was the superior of the monastery whose arrival we had witnessed, adding that he had been absent upon a very strange errand. This excited our curiosity, and we easily induced him to detail the circumstances. By that means we became acquainted with the following history, which, simply as he narrated it, made a profound impression

on us.

Towards the close of the last century, there dwelt in the town of Innspruck the Graff and Graffin L- a most worthy and respectable couple, who were universally beloved for their goodness and estimable qualities; while their wealth and high rank enabled them to hold a distinguished place in society. They were of very ancient family, and they boasted, with no small pride, that for many generations their name had been untarnished, and the honour of their noble line preserved without a blemish. They had one only child,—a son; and it may well be imagined what splendid hopes they entertained for their heir, and how earnestly they trusted that he would nobly sustain the dignities of their house. Every advantage which money could procure was lavished upon

him, in order to render him the most perfect and accomplished cavalier of his day. Whether it were, however, that the young Count was naturally ill-disposed, or that he fell a prey to the pernicious effects of bad example, certain it is that he neither profited by his good education, nor realised the brilliant hopes of his parents. Wild, reckless, and unprincipled, he seemed, even in his childhood, to have a strange predilection for evil in all its shapes; and as he advanced in years, the fruits of his extravagance and fatal propensity for gaming, were soon visible, in the entire destruction of his father's property, and finally, in the ruin and disgrace of the noble and ancient family, on which he had been expected to bring fresh honours.

This sad overthrow to all their bright expectations was too much for the unfortunate Graff and Graffin; they died broken hearted within a few months of each other, leaving the young man without even the appearance of restraint to follow on the path of crime and misery which he had chosen for himself.

It has ever been a well known fact, that when a man wilfully casts aside the trammels of all given laws, human and divine, he becomes as one intoxicated, and, yielding to the strange fascination of evil, hurries on from sin to sin, to an excess of iniquity which he never dreamt of, at the commencement of his career. So it was' with the young Graff L-. He had dissipated his fortune through gambling and extravagance, and he was obliged now to resort to crimes of a yet deeper dye, in order to obtain the means of surrounding himself with his accustomed luxuries. So, at least, it was supposed; for the good people of Innspruck knew little of his proceedings for some time after the death of his father. He had shut himself up entirely in an old castellated mansion belonging to the family, which had alone been rescued from his creditors in the general wreck. No one, indeed, could have found much profit in its possession, as it was almost completely in ruins, and situated in a bleak and desolate position among the mountains.

Here he remained quite secluded for some months, and strange rumours were afloat in the town as to his occupations and manner of life. That he was not always alone was certain, as it was known that he held much close intercourse with the wild and lawless bands of brigands, who at that period infested some part of the Tyrolean mountains. At length it was reported that the Graff, by some unknown means, had gained possession of an enormous amount of money, and that he had suddenly left his ruined dwelling, and started for Italy with a splendid retinue. This was soon ascertained to be the fact, as he was shortly after heard of at Florence, where he established himself for some time.

He now commenced living in a style of magnificence that astonished even the luxurious Florentines, and filled his townsmen of Innspruck with the strangest surmises. Any ordinary fortune

must speedily have been lost in his enormous expenditure, but the resources of the young Graff seemed quite inexhaustible; and reports were continually brought to his native town of the splendid fêtes he was in the habit of giving, rivalling even with those of the ducal court. After the lapse of a few months, he seemed to complete the measure of his prosperity by his marriage with the beautiful daughter of a noble Florentine; and the recollection of his former misdeeds began gradually to fade away, even from the memory of those who had witnessed them. The Graff continued for a year or two to live at Florence, partaking of all the amusements and gaiety within reach; when suddenly, without any previous warning of his intentions, he broke up his establishment, left Italy, and returned to his old castle in the Tyrol, bringing with him his wife and two infant sons.

His re-appearance was as unexpected as his departure had been, but no one could guess his motive, nor was anything known of his mode of life after his return. Before leaving Florence he had dismissed his entire train of servants; and now he once more intrenched himself in such complete seclusion, that the whole existence of the inhabitants of the castle became covered with an impenetrable mystery. It was not, therefore, until many years *afterwards that the circumstances became known, of which we are about to give the details.

The young Graffin L was a pious and gentle being, devoted heart and soul to her religion. She had made no opposition to the sudden determination of her husband to enter upon this new and extraordinary mode of life; with his society, and that of her children, she could make herself happy,.even while subjected to a species of imprisonment; and she was too guileless to feel the suspicions which might naturally have arisen in her mind. She came to inhabit the castle, quite convinced that the Graff had some excellent reason for so singular a proceeding; and the more so as he had found it impossible to conceal from her that his enormous wealth was quite exhausted. She did not, however, suspect what was in fact the case, that he had come to his old haunt for the purpose of replacing it by a secret and iniquitous means.

For a time all seemed to go well. The Graffin was aware that many strange and mysterious proceedings went on in the castle, but she never quitted her own apartments, and succeeded in occupying herself so completely with her domestic affairs, that she gave little heed to what passed around her. This could not last, however; the Graff succeeded in maintaining the profoundest secrecy respecting his proceedings to all without, but in the castle itself concealment was not so easy; and for this reason he admitted not even a servant within its walls, excepting one old woman, quite deaf, and almost blind, who assisted the Graffin in her household matters.