SOME QUEER DOINGS AT LEIPSIC FAIR. BY DR. MICHELSEN. THE Commercial dealings carried on among the various nations of Europe at the Michaelmas fair at Leipsic are not unsimilar to those of Nijni-Novogorod, among the various tribes of Asia. In both, credit forms the main feature of trade, which is usually allowed to stand over for a whole year, until the next return of the same fair, when the accounts are balanced, payments made, and credit renewed on the same principle. It requires, therefore, on the part of the manufacturer and merchant, a thorough knowledge of the character and circumstances of his customers, who frequently live hundreds of miles off, in some obscure place in the depth of a Polish wilderness or Russian forest, to sell them goods to a vast amount on the mere faith of a promissory note, due only after the lapse of twelve months, which is sometimes never redeemed, and the debtor lost sight of altogether. An inexperienced young Jew at Kalish, without trade, profession, or principle, or the least knowledge of merchandise, having by some windfall come into possession of 5000 thalers (about 8007.), a large sum for that part of the country, resolved to double the sum by repairing to the Leipsic fair, where he was told money and credit go together, and purchase goods for 10,000 thalers, paying in cash the half, and the other half after the lapse of twelve months at his next return to the fair, which he intended never to revisit, and to remain snugly at home, leaving his creditors to find him out with Diogenes' lantern. He could see no reason why as a moneyed man, with a bag filled with 5000 hard thalers in hand, any manufacturer or merchant should refuse him credit to a similar amount. Acting upon that belief, he made his appearance at Leipsic, parading the busy streets with his bag of shining money. Having satisfied his curiosity about the sights of the place, he betook himself to business, and entering one of the large magazines, he made to the principal his well-digested proposal of buying for 10,000 thalers, for which he was to pay half in cash, and the other half-as usual in the placeby a promissory note due at the next return of the fair. The merchant, as was to be expected, politely told him that he would be happy to number him among his customers, if he could refer him to some respectable firm in the place. Not being prepared for such, to him, an impossible request, he tried several other merchants, but received invariably, to his dismay, the same cautious reply. Having failed in his project, he was sauntering despondingly about the streets, bag in hand, of course, when a wary cloth-manufacturer of Elsace, who was standing on the door-steps of his magazine, caught sight of the would-be merchant and his bag as he was about passing his door. "What, Moses!" exclaimed he, "been in Leipsic this week, and not yet completed your purchases?" "Not completed! Rather say, not commenced." 66 Are you aware that the fair terminates in a few days, and that we are all preparing to pack up and depart ?" "That may be, but "And why not?" your Leipsic fair does not suit me." "Because they won't give me credit without reference, though I offered the half in cash." to pay "You have never been, then, in Leipsic before, and pray, what other fair did you visit for your purchases?" "None whatever. I have never been a tradesman before, but intended to become one." "And have, of course, no knowledge of merchandise ?" "Not the slightest; but that does not prevent one from making a beginning." "Of course not! Jerusalem was not built in a day, you know. A propos, how much does your bag contain?" "Five thousand thalers." And you want credit for a similar amount?" "Exactly." "Come in, Moses; I think you and I will become lasting friends. I can read in your countenance a growing and prosperous merchant, and I have no hesitation in giving you credit to any amount." Thus encouraged, the Jew entered the magazine, and, being at a loss about the selection of goods, he left it to his new friend to choose for him from the vast variety of the stock such articles as he thought best suited the market. The merchant did so, but took care to put on each article a double price, or one hundred per cent. in excess of the reasonable market value, and in a short time a selection for 10,000 thalers (actually worth only the half) was made, the invoice written out, the money paid, the promissory note for 5000 thalers duly signed, and the goods ordered to be immediately packed and sent to their destination to Kalish. "And now, friend Moses, call at my private lodgings this evening, and we will drink a glass of wine to better acquaintance and more extended dealings next fair." The Jew did not fail to call, and, after having quaffed a few glasses, said to the merchant : "I must ask you now for a little present for my family, no matter how small." "That you prise you." And, fetching from his desk the promissory note for 5000 thalers, he handed it to the Jew, as a gift and present for his family. shall have with pleasure, and to an amount that will sur "Indeed," said the Jew, "I would prefer a silk handkerchief to this bit of paper." "I thought so from the first when I saw you, that you consider your bill of hand a mere waste-paper. And so did I, friend, when selling you my goods at double their real value, and now"-tearing the bill to pieces -"that you have got the real value for your money, and have no longer to fear any creditor here, I hope to see you again next Michaelmas fair, a better man in principle and experience. Farewell; and here is also a silk handkerchief for your family." SIX WEEKS AT HUNSDON MANOR. CONCLUDING part. A FEW mornings after poor Tony's death I received letters from home, in which my people expressed themselves as much aggrieved by my protracted and unaccountable absence. My sister Amy, in her edition of the family remonstrance, threw out dark hints and surmises touching the cause of my long delay, and in conclusion alluded to some important event with which I was to be made acquainted on the condition of my speedy return, confirming thereby certain suspicions I had long entertained respecting my little sister. I felt, however, that their reproaches were but just, and that in fact no legitimate reason any longer existed for delaying my departure. And yet, as I came to this resolution, a feeling of keen regret arose within me. At all times the word good-by is fraught with mournful meaning. Sad things are those last words and last looks, whether bestowed on the life-like or on the inanimate. Even the most indifferent of people or places acquire a borrowed value and interest when we are looking upon them for the last time; and we begin to think, as we wish them farewell in the softened mood of parting, that we never prized them according to their merits. It is cold consolation to adduce that, in the wear and tear of life, this feeling should be, suppressed as a thoroughly useless one, or only to be regarded in the light of a necessary evil, or wholesome discipline. Perhaps it may be so, but, speaking from personal experience, I maintain that "good-by" falls with as mournful a cadence on my ear now, in the maturity of manhood, as it did when I strained my eyes to catch the last glimpse of my mother's face as the carriage which conveyed me to school bore me rapidly away from the delights of home to the severer routine of school-life. On the present occasion my thoughts recurred to the pleasant weeks I had passed at Hunsdon. My kind host and hostess, dear old Guy, sweet Ethel Mordaunt, each and all took their place in my category; and yet, great as my regard was for them all, sorry as I should unquestionably be to leave them, there was still another and a deeper cause for my regret in quitting Hunsdon; some one from whom it would be much harder to part, some one who, almost insensibly to myself, had become so entwined and bound up with all my day-dreams, that I could no longer dissociate her from all my hopes of future happiness, with the prospect of my departure close at hand, and the conviction that not so easily could I resign the society of Lady Margaret, and I could no longer blind my eyes to the fact that I loved her. Then followed in quick succession the alternations of hope and doubt as to the nature of her own feelings on the subject, a phase of mind common, I take it, to all men in a like position. As I leisurely proceeded with the business of dressing that morning, I conned over in retrospection the many trifling circumstances which I had led myself to believe were symptoms of an interest on her part, calling to mind the very expression of her eyes, the deepening bloom in her cheek as I touched on subjects nearer and dearer than the ordinary topics of conversation. But then, again, the very frankness of her nature made me fear. What if, after all, her very interest in me sprang only from the fact of my being the intimate friend of Guy, who stood to her more in the light of a brother than of a cousin! Hitherto I had flattered myself that I understood that most perplexing of all studies-in comparison with which the dead languages are a jokenamely, women and their ways. In the present instance my knowledge certainly availed me little. That Lady Margaret was a coquette I never for an instant wronged her by surmising, and though possibly like all young and attractive women, she had no objection to the admiration she received, yet I knew that her loyal nature was free from all taint of the kind. One moment I resolved to end my suspense by asking at once my fate, and in the next innumerable hesitations and tormenting doubts recurring, induced me to pause before finally deciding on tempting the chance that might in a moment dispel the hopes I had formed. Some people affirm that second thoughts are best, but I am of opinion that on some occasions the preference should be given to the first impulse, and that He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who fears to put it to the touch When I entered the breakfast-room that morning, I found every one down before me. The people who had letters were still deep in their contents, whilst the less fortunate individuals who were minus were wondering discontentedly what had become of their usual correspondents. A certain and established rule at Hunsdon was that no one could receive their morning letters before Sir Robert Aylmer distributed them. It may have been a peculiar fancy of the worthy baronet's, but it was one to which all of course subscribed, as was only right and proper they should do. Being purely conservative in my notions, I hold that a man's laws in his own house should be binding as those of the Medes and Persians on his guests. In deference to certain official communications that I occasionally received, Sir Robert, with his usual kindness, made an exception in my favour, consequently my letters were both read and digested before I appeared at the breakfast-table. Lady Aylmer informed me, as I bade her good morning, that Ethel was actually strong enough to contemplate taking a short walk. Guy was in the highest spirits, and Sir Robert and Bob were deep in the discussion of another hunt to which they were going. On that particular morning each person looked so particularly bright and happy, that I did not feel disposed at that moment to announce the unpleasant necessity of terminating my sojourn amongst them. My eyes wandered in search of Lady Margaret, who was standing in one of the windows reading a letter, and so deeply engrossed by it did she appear, that she did not hear me as I advanced to wish her good morning. Her back was turned towards me, as I came up close to her, and I heard her distinctly exclaim to herself, in a tone of unmistakable joy, "Dear, dear Frank!" My name, dear reader, let me observe, is John, but who the deuce was Frank? I have no wish to recal my feelings at that particular moment, let it suffice that they bore some resemblance to those of a man who has discovered too late that he has built his castle on a quicksand. I knew perfectly well that Lady Margaret had no brother bearing the name of Frank, and I could not therefore compose my jealous fears with the crumb of consolation this supposition might otherwise have afforded me. When at last she turned round her face was radiant with smiles, and possibly she did not observe the reserve of my manner as I replied to her kind greeting. During breakfast she was in the most exuberant spirits, which drew from Guy the remark, "Something very pleasant must have come to you by post this morning, Margaret, you look the embodiment of a sunbeam !" "She has had a letter from her lover perhaps," observed Bob, at random. And I looked quickly and suspiciously at her, to watch the effect of his words. She laughed gaily, but it did not escape my notice that she coloured likewise as she answered evasively, "I have had pleasant letters, Bob." That morning, for the first time, I looked forward with but little pleasure to our usual ride. And yet I could not bring myself to resign the sweet charm of her society, though her very presence augmented the jealous apprehensions filling my mind. Before starting on our ride, I had occasion to speak to Aylmer, whom I found in his father's library. As I was again leaving the room, my attention was arrested by a miniature hanging against the wall that I had not chanced to observe before. It was that of a young and very handsome man, the beauty of whose face was rather marred by a certain indecision in the expression of the mouth, contrasting strangely with the high intellectual brow and the deep-set, earnest eyes. "What a good-looking fellow!" I exclaimed. "Oh, that is Frank Aylmer," he answered; He is a first cousin of mine." "Frank Aylmer!" I repeated mechanically. "Yes. Frank." "Who is it, Guy?" "don't you know him? He is a good fellow," said Guy. "I always liked poor "Why poor Frank Aylmer?" I asked, for the conviction flashed across me that this was the "Frank" par excellence-my rival, and consequent aversion. Guy's answer confirmed my suspicion. "Well, to let you into a secret," he said, confidentially,—" which of course, old fellow, you must not divulge-Frank has been for years-from his early boyhood, indeed, I think-very much attached to Margaret—a desperate case. Poor fellow, it has been the dream of his life." "And she?" I interrupted, hastily. "Does she not care for him?" "That is precisely the information I cannot give you, for I don't know," replied Guy, poking the fire in a puzzled, meditative manner. "Margaret and myself, as you know, have ever been on the most confidential terms; yet I have never been able to ascertain the real bearings of that story, that is to say, as far as she herself is concerned. There never could be a doubt of Frank's devotion to her; but of her feelings towards |