—“Surely, my good father,” would she say to him, “should Erwin return to me crowned with honour and renown; should he be really what Fame asserts, the favourite of his Emperor, what is more probable, than that the lowness of his origin should be sunk in the splendour of some new-acquired title, and his merits be rewarded by his elevation to some station of importance? and in that case, where would be the impropriety of my giving him my hand? and what obstacle would my mother’s injunctions oppose any longer to our union?”— The old man on hearing such observations never failed to exclaim against the credulity of young minds, and to warn the exulting girl against the painful effect, which evil tidings would produce upon her mind with as much facility and with still greater violence. They say, that Age often possesses the gift of second-sight; it is at least certain, that what Tell foreboded, happened but too soon. On a sudden, Rosanna’s Companions greeted her arrival no more with chearful songs of encouragement and hope; the name of the heroic Erwin now was never suffered to pass their lips; when she enquired, whether no tidings of him had reached the Valley, her question was evaded. At length the deep mourning, in which the Melthal family appeared, made public the dreadful intelligence, which her friends had so long concealed from her, and the relation of which struck her senseless to the earth, as if it had been a flash of lightning. Erwin had accompanied his sovereign to relieve the Fortress of Bender, which was besieged by Sultan Amurath, and in an unsuccessful attack upon the enemy’s camp had fallen as became a warrior. The whole Valley was afflicted at his loss; the old Melthal was inconsolable. Shortly afterwards he left his home to visit the Castle of a nobleman, who had been long his patron and his friend, and he returned no more. Death surprised him on his journey; and his children brought nothing back but his bones, which they buried in his native land, that land which through life he had ever loved so dearly! It seemed, as if at this period every kind of misfortune had conspired to ruin this once so happy Province. It was visited by continual storms, such as had never before taken place within the memory of man: the mountain-torrents deluged the country with unusual fury; nor was it possible for the cultivators, industrious as they were, to bring their ruined fields into order again, till a considerable time had elapsed. The crops failed; prices rose; at length the distress became universal, and it was soon followed by the twin-sisters of Death, Famine and Disease.