with an obscure but humane publisher, who, touched by his dejection, promised to look at it, and returned utterly discouraged to his narrow apartment; for the first time since he had occupied it he found it cheerless and confined, and some bitter tears did he give to the memory of his beautiful birth-place. There was resident in Florence, a distinguished patron of the arts, the Prince M. His benevolence was equal to the refinement of his taste and the splendour of his fortune. The M- Palace was the resort of all the talent and beauty of Italy, and the Prince possessed the art of discovering real merit or genius, in an eminent degree. About this period he came into Florence for the winter, with his numerous suite of artists, musicians, etc.; and his young, gentle wife and child. The Princess M--, though not beautiful, was formed to win and soften all hearts; her sweet smile gladdened her husband's soul, and her soft voice whispered consolation to the sternest griefs; she was like some minis tering angel in the form of woman, and the sick and aged poor hailed her return amongst them with heartfelt blessings. One morning as Antonio Cellini was sitting listlessly in his room, allowing his thoughts to wander into bygone scenes, he was aroused from his reverie by a gentle tap at the door, and on opening it, he was accosted by a young man, apparently not much older than himself; his appearance was highly interesting, and his manners gentle and courteous; he told Antonio that he was the bearer of a note to him from the Prince M--, to whom he was secretary; and then went on to inform him that his poem had, by chance, fallen into the Prince's hands, who was charmed and astonished by its beauty and originality, and longed to form the acquaintance of its gifted author. The dejected Antonio could scarce believe the evidence of his senses, at these joyful tidings; from the depth of despondency he experienced a sudden transition to overwhelming delight, and as he grasped the secretary's hand in silence, and his fine countenance glittered with animation, the stranger gazed at him with intense admiration. They were kindred souls, and in that interchange of looks they understood each other's feelings as thoroughly as though lengthened conversations had passed between them. Antonio then read the Prince's letter, which contained many well- turned compliments on his poem, and requested the pleasure of a visit from him. The two young men forthwith to the M accordingly proceeded Palace, and if the Prince had been delighted with the creation of Antonio's mind, he was equally charmed by the dignity and graceful ease of his bearing, and the noble, expressive beauty of his countenance. It was impossible to look on Antonio without feeling a deep interest in his fate, and the Prince contemplated with anxiety the languid eye and pale cheek of the young poet. He drew from Antonio the history of his recent losses, his yearning ambition and his late mortifications, all of which were told in the simple and energetic language of true feeling. The Prince requested him soon to repeat his visit, and so rapidly did Antonio gain on his esteem and regard, that he shortly offered him the office of his secretary, which had been resigned by its late efficient occupant, whose delicate health required change of scene. Antonio had formed a close intimacy and friendship with this young man, and had observed with sincere sorrow the inroads which that most treacherous and invidious of all diseases was making in his slender frame; as is often the case in consumption, the young secretary knew not that he was in the grasp of the destroyer, and fancied that the breezes from his native hills, the tender nursing of his mother, and the sight of one dearer to him than country or kindred, and to whom he was betrothed, would entirely renovate his drooping frame and failing spirits. Antonio, who knew that he was going to seek a grave, took leave of him with ill-subdued emotion, his fine countenance glittered with animation, the stranger gazed at him with intense admiration. They were kindred souls, and in that interchange of looks they understood each other's feelings as thoroughly as though lengthened conversations had passed between them. Antonio then read the Prince's letter, which contained many well-turned compliments on his poem, and requested the pleasure of a visit from him. The two young men forthwith to the M accordingly proceeded Palace, and if the Prince had been delighted with the creation of Antonio's mind, he was equally charmed by the dignity and graceful ease of his bearing, and the noble, expressive beauty of his countenance. It was impossible to look on Antonio without feeling a deep interest in his fate, and the Prince contemplated with anxiety the languid eye and pale cheek of the young poet. He drew from Antonio the history of his recent losses, his yearning ambition and his late mortifications, all of which were told in |