THE CHILD'S CORNER.

fered and perished in these fearful places. We cannot be too thankful that those times are over; that right, not might, rules us now; and that even necessary punishments are tempered with mercy.

The view from the ruined Castle is very striking. On one side, the Rhine stretches widely out, and is dotted over with sweet little islands, among which we can trace the steamer carefully winding its way, doing what used to be a journey of days in as many hours-another proof of our progress, another reminder that we ought to be better and wiser than our ancestors, since so much more is granted to us. On the other side, before reaching Bingen, the river has a more turbulent career; its bed is narrowed by high mountains: it rushes through the gorge in a most undignified manner, brawling at the huge rocks which still lie in its channel; lashing them with its angry waves, and scolding with a hoarse, ceaseless voice. But its war and foam are disregarded by the grey blocks: they have passively borne its chafing for countless centuries, and the turmoil only had the effect of rendering the navigation difficult and dangerous, till the late King of Prussia slightly altered the river's course some twenty years

ago.

most worn to death with sorrow, when heaven, in mercy, granted her the blessings of motherhood. The only child, a boy named Rupert, was but an infant when its father fell in some private quarrel. The widow and orphan, even though rich and noble, had in those days all to fear from the rapacity of their fellow-nobles; therefore, on Count Roland's death, Bertha left her Castle of Laubenheim on the Nahe, where she had passed so many bitter hours, and caine into Bingen with her baby-boy for safety. She was beautiful and wealthy, and good as she was fair. The first months of her widowhood had not elapsed, before the highest in the land were striving for her hand. But to all she gave an unvarying refusal, saying that she meant to dedicate her days to heaven, and to the education of her son; that she might fit him for the high rank and power to which he was born.

Well and wisely did she fulfil her task: all the accomplishments-but few in number-then considered necessary for a highly-born youth, were taught him; and lest constant companionship with his mother and her women should render him unmanly, the Countess invited and educated many young noblemen with him. Nor did she forget the religious principles she herself held so dear. Rupert, while yet a child, assisted I must not forget to point out the Mause in her works of charity; and often, leaving his Thurm-the tiny tower built on one of the noble playfellows, he would collect the poor smallest of islets, just as the stream expands-children in the town, and bringing them to for it is Bishop Hatto's tower; celebrated in Bertha, say, "See mother, here are song for the fate of its builder, who was there devoured by rats and mice. He had bought up the corn in a period of famine, and would not sell it at a reasonable price to the starving peasantry. At length myriads of vermin issued from his granaries, and chased him to the battlements of the Castle of Ehrenfel. In despair he fled to his island tower, but his pursuers would not be foiled; they swam over, blackening the waters with their numbers, and devoured the cruel bishop.

A little above the Mause Thurm you can trace the red waves of the Nahe, as they mingle with those of the Rhine, and tinge the broad flood with their peculiar dye. On the left of the Nahe, just opposite one side of Bingen, rises a lofty mountain called Rupertsberg, or Rupert's Hill; and now I will tell you a story about the childhood of the person from whom it is named.

In the reign of Charlemagne, or Ludwig the Mild, there lived a mighty nobleman, of immense possessions, who had only one child-his daughter Bertha--to inherit them. She was very pious; but she consented to marry a harsh and irreligious Count to please her father, and also in the hope that her persuasion and example might soften his heart. Count Roland unfortunately only laughed at his wife's admonitions. When not carousing with the neighbouring barons, and assisting them in their exactions on their vassals, he was at feud with them. He was a stern lord, and an unkind husband; and Bertha was al

children!"

more

"They are your brothers, my son;" she would reply; "share your good gifts with them." den out with one Squire only, and had, as usual, One cold morning the little Count had ridbeen followed by the blessings and prayers of the many whom he had comforted, when he saw all away to his last coin, and having nothing a poor shivering boy, a stranger. He had given left, he unclasped his short cloak, and wrapped it round the friendless outcast, whose very language was unknown to him. Otto, his Squire, would have remonstrated; the wind was piercing

the beggar a foreigner, perhaps an infidel, or, worse still, a Jew-the young Count delicate. "Could not the lad wait till evening, when they should return to the Castle?" But Rupert, though generally obedient, would not yield, and he rode off cloakless to the grand hawkingmatch, where his companions expected him. Much surprise was created by the absence of his cloak-then a badge of rank, and some merriment, when Otto accounted for its loss. But the day was a happy one to the generous boy; and though the bleak air occasionally chilled him, yet his heart warmed when he thought of the destitute wanderer, revelling in the unaccustomed warmth of his gay scarlet and fur mantle.

Few laid down to rest that night with lighter hearts than Young Count Rupert; and beautiful, happy dreams hovered by his couch-such dreams as are given to youth, health, and innocence alone. He dreamed he was again by the side of his lovely Rhine, watching the early sun

lighting up the little islands that gem its surface; when suddenly a number of bright faces appeared above the flood-those of children sporting cheerily in the waters-and at the same mcment a lovely islet rose from the waves. There, too, were children of his own age, all playing merrily, but yet without rudeness. They were so gentle, that the butterflies seemed to enjoy the chase as they ran after them, and would rest on their hands while they examined their splendid wings. Birds of the gayest plumage and sweetest song hovered about them, and came at their call; while the swan bent its proud neck, and allowed the bathers to ride between the wings, submitting itself to the garlands they used as reins. The isle was a garden of choicest flowers, and its perfumes were wafted to Rupert as he gazed in wonder and delight. Some of the children occasionally flew away and returned, bearing another, cold, pale, and motionless; but when they had softly dipped their burden in the stream, it would soon become as one of themselves, as sportive as the gayest. At length, Rupert's desire to join them grew so strong, that he cried out, "Let me come too; take me among you !"

"Alas! we cannot. This is Heaven," they replied.

But he still cried, "Oh, let me come to Heaven-let me come!"

Then one of the eldest among them said, "See, here is our bridge; can you cross on that? We cannot bring you.'

وو

And as he spoke a beautiful rainbow formed its arch across the river. But Rupert could find no footing on the splendid bow, and he still piteously implored-"Oh, let me come to Heaven!" And he stretched out his hands to the children, whom he now knew to be Angels. Then the poor boy whom he had that morning relieved, came from among them-no longer poor, and a stranger-and throwing down Rupert's cloak before him, said, "See, this shall help to make a bridge for you!"

haughty noblewomen spurned a husband who thought more of books than war, and who did not disdain to pray by the bedside of his meanest serf. They all refused him scornfully. At length Bertha, with a heavy heart, consented to his going on a pilgrimage to Rome. He saw the Pope, and received his well-merited blessing; but the hardships of the way so impaired his constitution, that he returned only to die in his mother's arms. His estates then went to a relation; and Bertha retired from the world, in a convent she built on the mountain, in a lovely spot, from whence she could see the Rhine, and the islands of which her dear son had dreamed.

Hatto, Archbishop of Mentz, canonised Rupert, and the mountain was from that time called after him. Bertha died in 864. The monastery was afterwards destroyed by the Normans, but was again rebuilt; indeed, it has been thrice destroyed. Nothing now remains but a few ruins, shewing the traveller to Friers what a grand place it has been.

Thus ends the legend of Rupert's dream. Your kind Mammas will tell you its moral, and teach you how children may, and must form, their own bridge to Heaven.

DEATH AND SLEEP.-With arms entwined in brotherly union, the Angels of Death and Sleep wandered through the earth. Evening closed in, und they laid them down on a hill, not far from around, and even the vesper bells in the distant vi the dwellings of men. A pensive stillness reigned lage were hushed. Silent and speechless, as is their wont, sat the two beneficent genii of mankind, locked in a close embrace, as night stole on. Then the Angel of Slumber arose from his mossy couch, and with gentle hand scattered around him the invi sible grains of sleep. The winds of evening bore them to the quiet homes of the weary peasants, and then sweet sleep stole over the dwellers in these rustic huts, from the grey-beard resting on his staff, to the suckling in the cradle. The sick man forgot his pain, the mourner his trouble, and poverty ber And then many of the new-born angels spoke cares. All eyes were closed. His mission thus fulout, and Rupert recognized in each some child filled, the benevolent Angel of Sleep laid him down whom he had relieved, and each brought a gift again by his more serious brother. "When the to lengthen out the bridge-even an act of sim- dawn of morning breaks," exclaimed he, with innople kindness was remembered. "He forgave cent gladness, then will men praise me as their me when I neglected his falcon, and it sick-friend and benefactor. Oh! the joy of doing good, ened," cried one, and the bridge grew longer. "He taught me how to pray," added another; still the bridge grew, and grew, and grew, and at last it bore Rupert to the holy island.

On awaking, next morning, his delighted mother heard the dream, which had such an effect on him that he decided on becoming a hermit; but Bertha's entreaties induced him to relinquish that idea. She reminded him that he was all she had to comfort her in this world, and that he still might serve God and win Heaven by good actions, without turning from the duties entailed on him by his high birth. Her next care was to find him a wife of equal piety with himself: but here she was less successful. The

sible messengers of the Good Spirit. How beautiful unseen and secretly. How happy are we, the inviSlumber. With silent emotion the Angel of Death our silent calling!" Thus spoke the friendly Angel of gazed upon him, whilst a tear, such as immortala shed, stood in his large dark eye. "Alas!" said he, "would that I also could rejoice in the gladsome thanks of men. But the earth calls me her foe, and the disturber of her joys."-" Nay, my brother," answered the Angel of Sleep, "will not the righteous at the resurrection also recognize thee as his friend and benefactor, and gratefully bless thee? Are we he, and the eye of the Angel of Death kindled, and not brothers, messengers of one Father?" So spoke the brotherly genii embraced each other yet more tenderly. From the German of Krummacher. S. Y. N.

MATERIALS.—4 skeins of Black Purse Silk; 2 skeins Cerise ditto; 6 skeins of Gold thread. Passementerie trimmings, cord, slides, and square gilt Chalice.

24th. x 7 black, 7 gold, 1 black, 3 gold, 4 | under a chain, x 3 ch, de under the same, de cerise, 2 gold, 1 black; x 6 times.

25th. x 8 black, 5 gold, 2 black, 9 gold, black; x 6 times.

26th. times.

1

17 black, 6 gold, 2 black; x 6

Now do four rounds of s c with the black silk. Then two rounds of open-hem, thus: x 2 dc, 2 ch, miss 2; x all round. In the second round, the dc stitches should be worked under the chain of the first round.

FOR THE LACE.-With the gold thread d c

under the next; x all round.

2nd. Cerise silk. x 6 dc under one chain of 3, 1 sc under the next chain of 3; x all round.

3rd. Gold. Sc on every de stitch, and over the s c stitch of last round.

Run the cord in the two rounds of open-hem: cover the joins with the slides. Sew on the chalice to cover the open part at the end of the purse. Add the tassels, as in the engraving. AIGUILLETTE.

PATCHWORK FOR A CUSHION.
MATERIALS-Primrose silk, Amber ditto, Crimson, Purple, Vert-islay, Napoleon Blue.