midnight, like some base reptile polluting the beautiful and tranquil bosom of nature by its foul passage, and returned to his watch upon the walls.

All had been carefully arranged between the traitor and his new ally: the position of the secret door through which the royal troops were to gain access to the interior of the fortress, had been ascertained; the hour of the attempt fixed for the following midnight; and the certainty of a speedy and complete triumph gave new energy to the feasting in the tents of the besiegers, while it induced them throughout the day to relax in their operations against the fortress, like men who began to weary of an apparently hopeless hostility.

Prudent as they were, the comparative supineness of their enemies infused fresh hope throughout the gallant little garrison; and when the night-watch had been set, the whole body of the Templars collected in the subterranean hall to discuss their future measures, for of their present security they entertained no doubt; strong in the consciousness of their own courage, and amply supplied with provisions, water, and fuel, they were well aware that the fortress was invulnerable save by treachery, and who could be a traitor beneath the banner of the red cross! Thus, then, it was with high hearts and hopeful brows that they followed their venerated chief to the hall of council, where the moonlight which streamed through the narrow windows lay clear and cold upon the tesselated pavement; and the effigies of their buried brethren seemed to mingle in their deliberations. Without the hall the gallant Templar Servient held his watch, and as he paced to and fro, blotted out at intervals the narrow stream of light which contrasted its silvery beauty with the ruddy glare of the torches which burnt in iron sockets along the walls.

Suddenly a deep groan, a heavy fall, and the tramp

of armed men broke upon the ears of the assembled knights, and in an instant every hand grasped a weapon, and a simultaneous rush was made towards the entrance of the hall. Across the threshold lay the body of Servient with a dagger in his heart, but they had no time to raise it from the earth, for as the door fell back the enemy were already upon them. Fearful was the carnage that ensued. The Templars fought with all the maddened energy of desperation; and each, as he struck at his foe, pressed back the aged chief, who sought to force himself a passage through the thick ranks of his brethren, as though in the wild hope that he at least might be saved. Fierce was the conflict, and as brief as fierce. Overpowered by numbers, the betrayed knights fell thick and fast before the weapons of their still increasing enemies, until, at length, the gray-haired chief stood alone amid a host

of foes.

For an instant there was a pause; it might be that a passing belief in the superior value of a living prisoner to that of a dead foe crossed the minds of the royalist soldiery: it might even be that the venerable aspect of the aged Templar touched the hearts of a few among them: but be the impulse what it might, the effect endured not long; for, in the next moment, an herculean arm was raised in air, and, as it descended, the hoary head of the veteran knight was cleft in twain, and he fell heavily upon a heap of dead.

Five centuries have elapsed since the perpetration of that fearful tragedy, and still the gory belt surrounds the well beside which the Templars were massacred. Tradition tells that numerous efforts have been made without effect to wash away the ghastly stain; and the more credulous of the peasantry talk of sheeted spectres haunting at midnight the unholy spot, and renewing the vestiges which the hand of man has removed during the day from the Hall of Blood.

LET nobody suppose the title of our article applies to the professors of any one branch of the Fine Arts, exclusively. Far from it: the application will be found to possess a very extensive range.

A grave-coloured carriage drives up to a door in a fashionable square: a grave-looking gentleman in black alights with a pensive air, enters the hall, and is instantly shown up to a lady in delicate health, seated on a satin-covered sofa. When, with the gentlest air, he takes her white hand-his own no less white and soft -when, in the sweetest voice, he inquires how she finds herself; when, in consequence of her saying that she is "a little better," he says he will order her "a little something else;" when he chafes her temples with eau de Cologne, or elegantly displays a mourning ring while in the act of holding a bottle of salts to her fair nose; when, in the gentlest tones, and with the most insinuating air, he discourses of the various lighter topics of the day; and finally, when he rises to take his leave-looks towards the window at the weather, feeling that something is put into his open palm -bows, smiles, and while one hand is suddenly slipped

into his pocket, with the other he tenderly presses the hand of the lady, promising to visit her again next day -will anybody in the world deny that this is flirting with a Sitter?

At the door of an elegant boudoir a gentle knock is heard. Permission to enter is given in a sweet voice, as of one expecting a favoured visitor at his appointed hour. A pale gentleman enters with a low bow of respectful devotion. He is neatly dressed, and slightly scented; but has no ornaments, except his constant smile and a small pair of moustachios. Now, whether the lady be seated at a piano, or a harp, or amuses herself by cossetting one of Panormo's beautiful guitars in her lap, there can be no manner of doubt but this interesting gentleman commits a most incessant flirtation with his Sitter. His very first entrance-the velvet softness of his approach-his profoundly sweet address-his look-oh, there can be no sort of hesitation as to the fact! Observe what care he takes that the lady's position at her piano is not only graceful— for this is quite natural to her-but correct! The mode of fingering is extremely important: he is

always so particular about the right fingering, because nothing can be done as it ought to be without the greatest attention in that particular; he, therefore, places her hand upon the keys, and watches every movement with the deepest anxiety. So much for beginners. With those who already play pretty well, he proposes new and difficult studies, tending to give facility and pearly brilliancy of execution, and to increase the power of "the reach." If the lady's fingers cannot easily reach and run a scale in tenths, he holds her hand with respectful tenderness, while she endeavours to reach the required distance with ease. He is extremely patient, and never hurries her. He is a very amiable sort of person. Of the flirtation to which the fair unconscious being, seated at her harp, may be subjected, very much might be said. At the earnest request of several particular friends (professors of the

harp) we forbear." But even-handed justice to our subject demands that we should just observe, that the harp is the only instrument which entitles a teacher to kneel at a lady's feet. This is absolutely necessary in order to fix the pedals, and to direct the movements of the foot-in doing which the professor sometimes turns up his eyes with an angelic expression, not always in strict harmony with B, two flats. Then the guitar! What a languishing air has the master!-not all masters, certainly, but some of them not quite so oldwith what a tender sentiment and tone of feeling he places the guitar in the lady's embracing arms! How anxious he is about the positions, and what pains he takes to accustom her hand to the barre ! The difficulties are very great, and the hand requires continual support and assistance. He is an excellent master. We venture to think our readers will have no hesitation in pronouncing all these, and similar occurrences of fashionable life, to be genuine and undoubted cases of Flirtation with Sitters.

Take another case, one of a totally different kind; one in which the very nature of the circumstances might be supposed the most remote from the thought of everything pleasant and agreeable. Perhaps there is no human being with whom we associate so many

repugnances as a dentist; yet such are the powers of fascination of manner, that even with this most fearful personage there are times and seasons when his smile is not horrible, and the touch of his fingers by no means so revolting to the apprehension of the Sitter. Of course, it must be evident that we are not alluding to those periods when there is actually a tooth to be extracted, or any other dental operation of a disagreeable nature to be performed. With fashionable dentists these doings are "few and far between," when compared with all the rest. The great art of the fine practitioner is not to extract teeth, but to preserve them. To effect this, a bad tooth may be bored, stuffed with gold, halved, joined, spliced or cased over; but the consummation of skill demands-as a minor proposition included in the foregoing major-that the very liability of a tooth to get bad should be superseded. To command this object every means should be essayed, and the lady's visits should be regular and frequent. A very excellent medium for instituting a Flirtation, offers itself in the last new dentifrice. "It is not only excellent in its slightly chemical properties for removing all superfluities, but is sweet to the taste, communicates an agreeable odour to the breath, -though, indeed, your ladyship's natural breath no art either could or should interfere with-is strengthening to the gums, improves the gustation of the palate, and, if accidentally swallowed, merely acts as a cordial. Its colour is delightful to the eye; particularly to the eyes of those who naturally shrink from all things uncongenial with their own nature, and are attracted only by whatever is beautiful; and it communicates a soft, ripened tone of vermilion to the lipsthough, to be sure, in some cases that is quite necessary. This is the kind of brush best suited to a small mouth. Its peculiar shape and size are found to be most-allow me!-will your ladyship be pleased to keep your seat a moment longer! It should be held in the hand thus !-no, yes-no-that's right! Allow me-thus!"

We had intended to have offered a few words on the elegant and insinuating addresses of dandy linen

drapers, mercers, hosiers, and shawl merchants; but want of all patience prevents us. Nor can it be necessary to employ time and space in dilating upon matters of such every-day experience. We shall merely observe, that their little flirtations are so generally tolerated, if not encouraged, that when any strong objection happens suddenly to be manifested by a lady of a different mind, the unfortunate devotee stands aghast, and cannot understand it. Mrs. Siddons, feeling very cold one winter's night on the stage, determined to line her dress with flannel. She went next day to make the purchase. Having instantly determined on the quantity and price, the eloquent smiler, "with the scissors under the cloak," found himself defeated in his accustomed display; he therefore began to make up for the deficiency, while measuring the article, by a most fluent tirade of wrapped-up compliments on the elegant altitude of the figure requiring such a profusion for one dress! He was stopped by the lady asking him abruptly, in a deep and awful voice, "Will it wash?" The poor courtier fell with his back against the shelves, and remained there bolt upright, with his mouth wide open, staring at the dreadful Sitter before

him!

A friend of ours--a great admirer of beauty in the symmetry of the foot, instep, and ankle of the fair sex -has suggested that the temptation held out to a ladies' shoemaker, must surely render a certain kind of remote Flirtation with his Sitter impossible to be resisted. This idea is altogether erroneous. The mistake has originated in our friend's private enthusiasm, and his ignorance of the professional nature of the class of which he speaks. As for the temptations to which the ladies' shoemaker is necessarily subject, no manner of doubt can exist; but then the shoemaker is not the sort of being to experience any corresponding emotions of soul. There is no poetry in his nature, He is, for the most part, a literal matter-of-fact man; his narrow imagination never looks beyond the immediate object of professional speculation; his sensibilities are cramped and confined to the mere measurements or fittings. He has no enthusiasm for his art, and no "thick-coming fancies" of the relation in which his art stands to the general beauty of effect and temeritous suggestiveness. He is usually a dull man; has a dark, desponding look; a methodistical face; and hands either dirty or with ugly broken nails. He kneels down without any grace or sense of high associations; but falls upon one knee with a bumping sound on the floor, and begins to measure, with as much indifference as if the foot of the Sitter had been cut off just above the ankle. He seems scarcely to be conscious even of giving pain, his thoughts being evidently confined to making "a fit." If you cannot walk in the shoe, that is your affair. He is strictly-c yone who minds his own business, and minds nothing beyond. He is a very respectable man. Several writers of ability have been originally shoemakers, and the class may be generally considered as among the most peaceful and reflecting of her Majesty's liege traders. From an habitual awe at the very frequencies and proximities of temptation, their fancies have never transgressed the due bounds, although it must be admitted that there are a few exceptions in the shape of adventurous individuals who pass a remark upon the height of a lady's instep and the smallness of the heel. But even this comes with a bad grace, and produces very little pleasure. He

always speaks as if the fact ended in itself, and there was nothing else to consider.

What a difference do we behold in the courteous sprightliness of the ladies' hairdresser! With a light, airy, bowing, and dancing pace; smelling of perfume; mealy as a moth with powder; and smiling with extreme self-satisfaction and the certainty of finding a gracious reception; the fashionable hairdresser enters the lady's room, like a favoured courtier who has just come to court, after a short absence. He is at once a poet, a politician, a newsmonger, a traveller, a lover, a connoisseur in beauty, and a variously accomplished artist and amateur in all that relates to the beau monde. With what an air of delicate grace and mastery of performance he envelopes the fair Sitter in her large, flowered dressing-gown, or gently ties her up in a great white sacque! The moment this is done, he skips three long paces backward, and falls into an attitude of admiration! He remains thus for a moment, when his expression and action undergo a change from admiration into a fine study of speculative design. His mind is made up-and in an instant he is standing bolt upright behind the Sitter, whose beautiful hair, unloosed with magic rapidity, is streaming down her back. Now, while his hand-well-known, and indeed celebrated among his numerous Sitters for being such a "light hand,"-flies about in all directions in the exercise of his elaborate art, the unceasing melody of his ad libitum gossip rises and falls with the long swathes of hair drawn through his ever-careful yet commanding comb; or pauses as the tress is held aloft, clinging by the extreme points to his highexalted brush. "My lady the Countess of Cologne's hair is very much the same colour as your ladyship's. The same delicate silky texture-not quite the colour, though very near, my lady. Ahem! The Countess of Cologne is considered to have the most beautiful hair ever seen-almost-though opinions differ, my lady. Does your ladyship find this brush too hard? No-indeed, my lady, I had some fear-your hair is so extremely soft. The pomatum I use will not injure the effect of the tinge of gold I perceive in the hair, but rather tend to bring out that effect stronger. Allow me, my lady, to take the liberty of suggesting to your ladyship the peculiarly beautiful effect of this class of hair when worn long-best, perhaps, when hanging down upon satins pompadour colonnes of roses or carnations on a white ground. By lamp-light, candle-light, or even gas,-still beautiful. The sun is considered preferable-the sun, so please your ladyship, sets off the natural gold tinge in the hair to the best advantage-I think the sun-I give him the preference-but this is all of course, as your ladyship pleases. Coiffures of small crowns of velvet are good; if black velvet, one of them should be placed close to the ear; it sets off its whiteness, and acts as a kind of frame or background to its small and beautiful shape

ahem! Nevertheless, I myself usually recommend bandeaux Clothilde. Still, broad flat plaits, delicate flowers, diamonds, or noeuds of dentelle d'or, are all very, very good-very good-very good-very delicate and charming-very, very cha-a-a-r-ming, There! my lady-permit me to wipe the glass-there! I trust your ladyship's head is furnished and finished entirely to your satisfaction."

Of the ogling eye of undisguised Flirtation wherewith certain favourite actresses look round at their Sitters,

It

we need not make any further observation; nor shall we pause to speak of the behaviour of certain lecturers on botany when addressing their crowd of Sitters, the majority of whom are usually of the fair sex. As to the animal magnetists, their Flirtations with Sitters are of a very serious kind, and far more grinning than jocular. But when a science goes so far during its infancy, it is impossible to calculate the extent of its charms as it approaches the maturity of its powers. might be thought that a few remarks should be offered on the "gay Lotharios" who may, now and then, be discovered among the usually sedate class of drawingmasters and teachers of water-colours at young ladies' boarding schools, and elsewhere. But there is not much to say. In sketching from nature, the " opportunity" seldom turns to account, for the prospect certainly does-without offence to human charms-draw off the attention considerably; albeit, in flower-painting, which requires a closer eye, there is dangerous matter for suggestion. We will, however, conclude this series with an anecdote of a portrait-painter, now living, and in considerable repute.

Some years ago, Mr. Warnhoff (this is not the artist's real name, which, for obvious reasons, we conceal) was what is usually understood by an elegant young man. He was very fond of his profession; a great admirer of beauty in the fair sex; and at this period was of a sentimental turn of mind. He had hot yet begun to paint in oil, but was tolerably successful in miniatures. When he had no portraits in hand, he amused himself with German romances and French novels, and by practising the violin. He had very few show" pictures: the one to which he chiefly attributed the growth of his connection was a portrait of himself. As nearly all his Sitters were ladies, there seemed to be good ground for such an opinion, as the portrait in question was not only handsome, but though manifestly flattered, was still an excellent and striking likeness. It always hung over the centre of the chimney-piece, in an oval locket-frame, with chased gold back and edges.

Mr. Warnhoff had an irrepressible habit of flirting with his Sitters. He occasionally encountered very marked rebuffs, either in the shape of severe frowns or withering coldness; but he still continued the practice, and the bright smile of to-day made up for the black looks of various discomfitures.

One morning an old lady, of austere demeanour, attired in rather rusty, old-fashioned black, but highly rouged, entered the artist's apartment, leading in her niece by the hand, whose miniature she wished to have painted in the best style. The young lady, her niece, was not very handsome, but of a fine figure, and had a clear dark eye, which, however, she persisted in fixing bashfully on the carpet. Her behaviour was as grave, distant, and cold as that of her aunt. In vain In vain did Mr. Warnhoff exert all his usual arts to institute a little sort of covert Flirtation with his Sitter; something of an indefinite sweetness of mutual understanding, which the austere aunt should not perceive, nor the young lady be able to interpret as offence. Sometimes he spoke of the symmetrical form of the arms of the Venus de Medici-and presently, in a tone of respectful tenderness, requested the fair Sitter to place her arms in a different position, just to try the effect. Next he spoke of the favourite expressions given to ladies' eyes by different great painters, adding with an

air of apparent unconcern and dry indifference, that, for his own part, he considered black eyes the most difficult, because the most searching in their effects, and compelling the artist to take proportionate pains in order to prevent their killing all the other features -as well as everything else-in the picture. Here he suffered a low, half-smothered sigh to escape.

It was all of no use. The niece sat to the full as grave and insensible as her aunt. After remaining the usual time, they took their departure in a very formal manner.

The artist felt exceedingly mortified. He began to speculate in a very rational manner as to whether all this nonsense was not a great waste of time, and whether he had not much better think of improving his skill in his profession, and endeavouring to increase his connection. Still he felt chagrined. "Was ever such resolute insensibility!" thought he. thought he. He consoled himself, however, with a tune on the violin, and returned to his work.

In a few days the austere, high-rouged aunt again made her appearance, accompanied by her niece, to take the second sitting. Their manner had the same distance as before, and Mr. Warnhoff began to suspect that the names of Mrs. Tabor and Miss Balls were names assumed to disguise their rank. Upon this occasion, however, about the middle of the sitting, the austere aunt fell fast asleep, and a few minutes afterwards, her niece heaving a sigh, as of one greatly relieved, slowly turned her head with a soft expression of interest, and gazed full at Mr. Warnhoff's miniature of himself, hanging over the chimney-piece. This little demonstration, added to the unexpected opportunity, was not to be resisted.

"Do you know the portrait, madam?" inquired Mr. Warnhoff, in a diffident and half-whispering voice, softly rubbing, or pretending to rub, a little fresh colour on his palette.

"Oh yes, sir!" answered the lady, "Who could

mistake it?"

"You flatter me, madam," said Mr. Warnhoff, feeling really confused at the unexpected change in his fair Sitter's behaviour.

"Not at all, sir," pursued the lady-"neither do I consider the portrait flatters."

At this, the delighted artist was absolutely over

come.

"I also admire the tastiness of the frame," resumed Miss Balls; "it is set in gold, I presume?"

"It is, madam," answered the artist. At this moment the old lady awoke: her niece instantly relapsed into her former distance; and, after a very long sitting, they appointed that day week for the next, and took their departure. Mr. Warnhoff was too delighted to be able to work any more that day, though he had promised to finish the miniature by the close of the next sitting, and he had not as yet touched the background. The ensuing day, however, he worked very hard, and the miniature was nearly done at the appointed time.

Miss Balls came exactly to the hour specified. She came alone. Her dear aunt was unwell, but was a lady of too high breeding to suffer her niece to break an engagement with so respectable an artist as Mr. Warnhoff. Mr. Warnhoff bowed to the ground, with an indefinite movement of the right hand towards his heart. The young lady took her seat as usual. Every

thing went on beautifully-except the picture. It was, however, nearly finished, and required little but "the expression." Towards the close of the sitting the following conversation occurred:

"I trust, Miss Balls, that the illness of the lady your aunt is not likely to be at all serious?" said Mr. Warnhoff, looking tenderly at the fair niece.

"I think not, sir," replied Miss Balls; "but I fear I shall seem very wicked when I say that a trifling indisposition on her part would render my life far more agreeable though Heaven forbid I should wish her decidedly dead, Mr. Warnhoff."

"Can she be so unamiable," said the artist, to you?"

" and

"Not so very unamiable," pursued Miss Balls with a sigh; "not so unamiable as watchful. It is not what she sees, nor what she says, sir, that I dread, but the being to whom she says it. I allude to my uncle, Mr. Warnhoff. My uncle is a very strict man. Compared with him, sir, my aunt is a mere nonentity." "But can he be unkind to a lady like Miss Balls?" demanded the artist devotedly--" how must everybody hate and shun him!"

"By no means, sir," interrupted the young lady. "My dear and thrice-honoured uncle is a man generally sought after, if not admired. He possesses an art, like that of the celebrated Napoleon Bonaparte the art of attracting to himself all classes, and of exercising an unfailing influence. His house is frequented by nobility, and the poor never speak of him without tears. He is a wonderful man, sir. So strict! I dread the fascination of his eye! Such an eye! But I hope I shall eventually be able to conciliate him."

"Dear me, madam, how I grieve-that is, I fear you are not happy under his influence. But how will you conciliate such a character?"

"Oh, sir-by various little ways I hope to do it. This miniature, for instance, is intended as a New Year's present to him."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, Mr. Warnhoff. Oh, he is very fond indeed of all productions of the Fine Arts! I am sorry, however, to say that, with regard to painting, he is too apt not to value a picture sufficiently unless it is set in a handsome, or at least an appropriate frame. But the handsomer the better. It is a fault, is it not, sir? Still, I must humour his peculiarity. I think I should like to give him my miniature set in a frame like yours."

"You gratify me, Miss Balls," said the artist," by manifesting a taste in accordance with my own. Indeed, now I think of it, such a frame would suit your miniature exceedingly well."

"Could I beg the favour, sir," said Miss Balls, rising from her seat to go, and approaching the artist in a most winning manner, "would it be too much to ask permission to have a frame made from yours?" By no means, madam-I shall be delighted!"

66

My jeweller will take the pattern of it in the course of a few hours, if you will permit me to take it, and I can return it to you in the course of to-morrow. But" and here the lady looked down and blushed

"but I hope, sir, you will not take your miniature out of the frame; I should like to show your portrait-at least I should like to have it with me till to-morrow."

Oh, I'm sure, madam-really, Miss Balls-I cannot express to you the great pleasure I shall have; pray take it-let me fold it up in some silver paper for you-any time to-morrow will do!"

So saying, with a multitude of tender bows and bashful smiles on both sides-for the artist was by this time as far gone in love as the lady appeared to beMiss Balls left the house with the miniature of Mr. Warnhoff in the locket-frame, and her own miniature, folded up face to face with it, in silver paper.

The artist fiddled away at a great rate during the rest of the day. Towards evening he began to grow serious, speculating on the nature of his feeling towards Miss Balls-of hers towards him-of her probable station in life-probable fortune-and whether he should really begin to think of "settling." Tomorrow came; but his miniature was not returned. "She wishes," thought he, "to keep it longer." The next day came, and passed; but no miniature. "The jeweller detains it," thought Mr. Warnhoff. Days passed-weeks-but no miniature. Our artist, now alarmed about his gold frame and the two miniatures -the lady not having yet even paid for her own— wrote several times to the address they had given. No answer. He called at the house. No ladies of that name had ever resided there!

Suddenly the alarm and astonishment of the discomfited artist were brought to a climax by the reception of the following ingenuous note from Miss Balls:

"Too amiable and admired artist,-forgive the detention of your picture by one who appreciates and returns your tender sentiments, and has no other means of proving her sincerity, except, indeed, by a further confession of the state of her mind. I have struggled in vain for your sake, but am quite unable to resist my uncle's influence. Shall I confess it-I am the victim of a hopeless attachment-my uncle's bright attractions have lent the only lustre to my life! Meantime, most amiable Mr. Warnhoff, permit me to pledge myself, till death, your ever-remembered friend -Amelia Balls."

The artist sunk back in his chair with his mouth

wide gaping. Suddenly the horrid fact shot across his brain. Her uncle's attractions!" ejaculated he, as he smote his forehead—“irresistible-lustre-pledge herself—O, I see it all!"

Many were the miniatures subsequently painted by this "too amiable" artist-many the portraits in oil -and many the fairy faces and elegant forms that have sat alone with him "in lovely separation from the world" since this eventful day; but never have his lips been in the act of uttering the first inuendo that should commence a tender Flirtation with his Sitter, than the horrible recollection of the treatment he experienced from the accomplished swindler and her aider and abettor, the austere, high-rouged aunt, rose up before his mortified imagination, and with " a green and yellow melancholy" obscured the else clear tones of the bright picture whereon his facile hand was employed.