or immutably free, who has not broken every outward yoke to obey this greater sovereign within." According to this, then, no man who dislikes the restraints of law or government, but may, nay ought to break through them, if his conscience (which we all know he can model to his will) tell him to destroy his king, like Ravaillac, or any other person, like Robespierre, (shall I add Herzstein ?) Was I not right then in saying that your American rhapsody, if splendid, was splendid non

sense.

Adieu: read-plant, and dance if you please under the elms; but do not attack windmills.

Your friend,

HERMANN WINTER.

LETTER X.

THE ANSWER.

Schloss Rheindorf, July.

Your letter has moved my wonder. I thought nothing could have shaken my opinion of the Rolands. You have made them do so themselves. Strange, that I should have known so little of what I thought I knew so well. But I knew them only in the panegyrics of their admirers-as you may suppose, revolutionists like themselves. One thing was at least clear, that she was a true heroine as to courage, and an untameable spirit; though whether well directed or not, you have made more than doubtful. So, also, as to the power of conscience as an infallible guide. I give up my American.

Your whole letter has, I own, opened a new field for speculation. It has much engrossed me, and will more, when I am more composed.

Shall

I confess to you I am not so now. By a strange coincidence, the very same post brought a letter from Herzstein, as opposite to yours as different consciences; that is, as you say, as light to darkness; I might say, as Heaven to Acheron. I am absorbed in them both, and know not well how to analyze your opposing doctrines. Free I am to say, I am not with him. Am I then with you? With you as much as you wish me? Let me pause ere I an

swer.

Indeed, both your letters are too important, too pregnant with serious conclusions, to respond, without retiring into one's self, and weighing consequences more than I now can do. Give me time then, and I will honestly answer you both.

What you say of England is convincing. They know not when they are well. But England is not Germany. Can we say that we are well? O! give to Germany but England's laws, and England's real freedom, and no act of mine would tend to change them!

Adieu for the present; more hereafter.

Your grateful,

KARL RHEINDORF,

LETTER XI.

Herzstein to Rheindorf.

Reproaches him for the coldness of his patriotism, and endeavours to rouse him in the cause of Liberty, by the example of England and Italy.-Fears that his zeal has evaporated in a romantic love of leisure, and the softer literature. Proposes that he should join in exciting Germany to aid the cause of the Italians, who aim at throwing off the yoke of foreigners.

WHERE are you, Rheindorf? I had hoped in England; where, when you quitted the court so nobly, you were inclined to go, and I rejoiced. It is now the only land in Europe for a freeman to dwell in; though even there freedom is much depressed. Nevertheless there, at least, the warm spirit of philosophy grows; tyrants may be threatened with impunity, nay, even their taking off, publicly praised and recommended. There the heroes of liberty, falsely called traitors by our oppressors, and immured in vile dungeons, may,

though in another country, meet with defenders, who not only sympathize with them, but, in their character of sovereign people, may command their servants, the government, to interfere for their release.

This sacred duty is not disdained by the highest classes—the dignified, the rich, and the noble. Some of these, from fear, or from principle, no matter which, lay all their power at the foot of their sovereigns, the people; subscribe their fortunes to raise monuments to the departed saints; and defray the expenses of the living defenders of the sacred cause.

This is as it should be. This would kindle even our slow and sluggish spirits into a flame of holy vehemence. Would I could be among them!

But you, liberal-minded Rheindorf; you, who participated the ardour which inspires me, and are master of your actions,-far from seeking this free soil, which would invigorate your, I fear, wavering principles, have buried yourself in a ruined schloss, fit emblem of our own state, and allowed your noble fire to quench itself in a Bohemian slough, the very hot-bed of detested despotism.

I had better hopes of you when you so gene