be seen but the old oak, and the gloomy wood, and the hovels; and the thunder rolled, and the winds whistled. It seemed that all about him was angry, so he turned homewards, frightened at what he had done.

In the morning all the neighbours flocked together, asking one another what the noise and bustle of the last night could mean; and when they looked about them, their trees seemed blighted and the meadows parched, the streams were dried up, and everything seemed troubled and sorrowful.

But yet they all thought that, somehow or other, the wood had not near so forbidding a look as it used to have. Strange stories were told how one had heard flutterings in the air, another had seen the wood as it were alive with little beings, that flew away from it. Each neighbour told his tale, and all wondered what could have happened. But Rose and her husband knew what was the matter, and bewailed their folly; for they foresaw that their kind neighbours, to whom they owed all their luck, were gone for

ever.

Among the bystanders none told a wilder story than the old ferryman, who plied across the river at the side of the wood. He told how, at midnight his boat was carried away, and how hundreds of little beings seemed to load it with treasure: how a strange piece of gold was left for him in the boat as his fare: how the air seemed full of fairy forms fluttering around: and how, at last, a great train passed over, that seemed to be guarding their leader to the meadows on the other side: and how he heard soft music floating around, and sweet voices singing as they hovered overhead.

Poor Elfie mourned their loss the most; and would spend whole hours in looking upon the rose that her playfellow had given her, and singing over it the pretty airs she had taught her; till at length, when the year's charm had passed away, and it began to fade, she planted the stalk in her garden, and there it grew and grew till she could sit under the shade of it, and think of her friend Gossamer.

THE ROBINS.

JOE THE GARDENER VIEWING THE ROBINS' NEST.

CHAPTER V.

S soon as Mrs. Benson returned to her children, Master Frederick ran up to her, saying, "Good news, good news, mamma; Joe has found the robins' nest."

"Has he, indeed ?" said Mrs. Benson.

"Yes, mamma," said Miss Harriet, "and, if agreeable to you, we shall be glad to go along with Joe to see it."

"But how are you to get at it ?" said the lady, "for I suppose it is some height from the ground?"

66

Oh, I can climb a ladder very well," cried Frederick. "You climb a ladder! You are a clever gentleman at climbing, I know," replied his mamma; "but do you propose to mount too, Harriet? I think this is rather an indelicate scheme for a lady." "Joe tells me that the nest is but a very little way from the ground, mamma," answered Harriet; "but if I find it otherwise, you may depend on my not going up."

"On this condition I will permit you to go," said Mrs. Benson. "But pray, Mr. Frederick, let me remind you not to frighten your little favourites."

"Not for all the world," said Frederick so away he skipped

and ran to Joe before his sister. "We may go, we may go, Joe!" cried he. "Stay for me, Joe, I beg," said Miss Harriet, who presently joined him.

As soon as Joe found that the young gentry, as he called them, had obtained permission to accompany him, he took Frederick by the hand, and said, "Come along, my young master."

Frederick's impatience was so great that he could scarcely be restrained from running all the way, but his sister entreated him not to make himself too hot.

At length they arrived at the desired spot; Joe placed the ladder, and his young master, with a little assistance, mounted it very nimbly; but who can describe his raptures when he beheld the nestlings! "Oh, the sweet creatures," cried he; "there are four of them, I declare! I never saw anything so pretty in my life! I wish I might carry you all home."

"That you must not do, Frederick," said his sister; "and I beg you will come away, for you will either terrify the little creatures or alarm the old birds, which, perhaps, are now waiting somewhere near to feed them."

"Well, I will come away directly," said Frederick, "and so good-bye, Robins! I hope you will come soon, along with your father and mother, to be fed in the parlour." He then, under the conduct of his friend Joe, descended.

Joe next addressed Miss Harriet. "Now my young mistress," said he, "will you go up?" As the steps of the ladder were broad, and the nest was not high, Miss Benson ventured to go up, and was equally delighted with her brother, but so fearful of terrifying the little birds, and alarming the old ones, that she would only indulge herself with a peep at the nest.

Frederick inquired how she liked the young Robins. "They are sweet creatures," said she, "and I hope they will soon join our party of birds, for they appear to me ready to fly. But let us return to mamma, for you know we promised her to stay but a little while besides, we hinder Joe from his work."

"Never mind that," said the honest fellow; "master won't be angry I am sartain, and if I thought he would I would work an hour later to fetch up lost time."

"Thank you, Joe," replied Miss Harriet, "but I am sure papa would not desire you to do so."

At this instant Frederick perceived the two Redbreasts, who were returning from their proposed excursion, and called to his sister to observe them. He was very desirous to watch whether they would go back to their nest, but she would on no account consent to stay lest her mamma should be displeased, and lest the birds should be frightened. Frederick, therefore, with reluctance followed her, and Joe attended them to the house.

As soon as they were out of sight the hen bird proposed to return to the nest; she had observed the party, and, though she did not see them looking into her habitation, she supposed, from their being so near, that they had been taking a view of it, and told her suspicions to her mate.

He agreed with her, and said he now expected to hear a fine story from the nestlings. "Let us return, however," said the mother, "for perhaps they have been terrified again." "Well," said he, "I will attend you then; but let me caution you, my dear, not to indulge their fearful disposition, because such indulgence will certainly prove injurious to them." "I will do the best I can," replied she, and then flew to the nest, followed by her mate.

แ

She alighted upon the ivy, and, peeping into the nest, inquired how they all did? "Very well, dear mother," said Robin. "What,' cried the father (who now alighted), "all safe! Not one eat up by the monster?" "No, father," replied Dicky, "we are not devoured; and yet, I assure you, the monster we saw before has been here again, and brought two others with him."

"Two others! what, like himself?" said the father. "I thought, Flapsy, you were to die with apprehension if you saw him again?" "And so I believe I should have done, had not you, my good father, taught me to conquer my fears," replied Flapsy. "When I saw the top of him my heart began to flutter to such a degree that I was ready to die, and every feather of me shook; but when I found he stayed but a very little while, I recovered, and was in hopes he was quite gone. My brothers and sisters, I believe, felt as I did; but we comforted one another that the danger was over for this day, and all agreed to make ourselves happy, and not fear this monster, since you had assured us he was very harmless. However, before we were perfectly come to ourselves, we heard very uncommon noises, sometimes a hoarse sound, disagreeable to our ears as the croaking of a raven, and sometimes a shriller noise, quite unlike the note of any bird that we know of, and immediately after something presented itself to our view which bore a little resemblance to the monster, but by no means so large and frightful, Instead of being all over red, it

had on each side two spots of a more beautiful hue than Dicky's breast; the rest of it was of a more delicate white, excepting two streaks of a deep red, like the cherry you brought us the other day, and between these two streaks' were rows of white bones, but by no means dreadful to behold, like those of the great monster; its eyes were blue and white, and round this agreeable face was something which I cannot describe, very pretty, and as glossy as the feathers of a goldfinch. There was so cheerful and pleasing a look in this creature altogether, that notwithstanding I own I was rather afraid, yet I had pleasure in looking at it; but it stayed a very little time, and then disappeared.

"While we were puzzling ourselves with conjectures concerning it, another creature, larger than it, appeared before us, equally beautiful, and with an aspect so mild and gentle, that we were all charmed with it; but as if fearful of alarming us by its stay, it immediately retired, and we have been longing for you and my mother's return, in hopes you would be able to tell us what we have seen."

"Iam happy, my dears," said the mother, "to find you more composed than I expected; for as your father and I were flying together in order to come back to you we observed the monster, and the two pretty creatures Pecksy has described; the former is, as your father before informed you, our friend the gardener, and the others are our young benefactors, by whose bounty we are every day regaled, and who, I will venture to say, will do you no harm. You cannot think how kindly they treat us; and though there are a number of other birds who share their goodness, your father and I are favoured with their particular regard."

"Oh!" said Pecksy, are these sweet creatures your friends? I long to go abroad that I may see them again."

"Well," cried Flapsy, "I perceive that if we judge from appearances, we may often be mistaken. Who would have thought that such an ugly monster as that gardener could have had a tender

heart?"

"Very true," replied the mother; "you must make it a rule, Flapsy, to judge of mankind by their actions, and not by their looks. I have known some of them whose appearance was as engaging as that of our young benefactors, who were, notwithstanding, barbarous enough to take eggs out of a nest and spoil them: nay, even to carry away nest and all before the young ones were fledged, without knowing how to feed them, or having any regard to the sorrows of the tender parents."

Oh, what dangers there are in the world!" cried Pecksy. "I shall be afraid to leave the nest." "Why so, my love?" said the mother; "every bird does not meet with hawks and cruel children. You have already, as you sat on the nest, seen thousands of the feathered race, of one kind or another, making their airy excursions, full of mirth and gaiety."

"This orchard constantly resounds with the melody of those who chant forth their songs of joy, and I believe there are no beings in the world happier than birds, for we are naturally formed for cheerfulness, and I trust that a prudent precaution, and following the rules we shall, from our experience, be able to give you, will preserve you from the dangers to which the feathered race are exposed."

46

"Instead of indulging your fears, Flapsy," said the father, summon up all your courage, for to-morrow you shall, with your brothers and sister, begin to see the world." Dicky expressed great delight at this declaration, and Robin boasted that he had not the least remains of fear.

Flapsy, though still apprehensive of monsters, yet longed to see the gaieties of life, and Pecksy wished to comply with every desire of her dear parents.

The approach of evening now reminded them that it was time to take repose, and turning its head under its wing, each bird soon resigned itself to the gentle powers of sleep.

(To be continued.)

PRETTY flower, tell me why
All your leaves do open wide
Every morning, when on high
The noble sun begins to ride?
This is why, my lady fair,

If you would the reason know,
For betimes the pleasant air
Very cheerfully doth blow.
And the birds on every tree
Sing a merry, merry tune;
And the busy honey-bee
Comes to sip my honey soon,
This is all the reason why
I my little leaves undo,
Lady, lady, wait and try

If I have not told you true,

THE Child did not very well know what to think of all this; deep in thought he went home and laid himself on his little bed, and all night long in his dreams he was wandering about on the ocean, and among the stars, and over the dark mountain. But the moon loved to look on the slumbering Child as he lay with his little head softly pillowed on his right arm. She lingered a long time before his little window, and went slowly away to lighten with her beams the dark chamber of some sick person.

As the moon's soft light rested on the Child's eyelids he fancied he sat in a golden boat, on a great, great water; countless stars swam glittering on the dark mirror of the waters. He stretched out his hands to catch the nearest star, but it had vanished, and the water splashed up against him. Then he saw clearly that these were not the real stars; he looked up to the sky, and wished he could fly thither.

But in the meantime the moon had wandered on her way; and now the Child was led in its dream into the clouds, and he thought he was sitting on a white sheep, and he saw many lambs grazing around him. He tried to catch a little lamb to play with, but it was nothing but mist and vapour; then the child was sorrowful, and he wished himself down again in his own meadow where his own lamb was sporting gaily about.

Meanwhile the moon had gone to sleep behind the mountains, and all was dark around. Then the Child dreamt that he fell down into the dark, gloomy caverns of the mountain, and at that he was so frightened that he suddenly awoke, just as morning peeped with her bright eyes over the nearest hill.

IV.

THE Child started up, and, to recover himself from his fright, went into the little garden behind his hut, where the flower-beds were surrounded by venerable palm-trees, and where he knew that all the flowers would nod kindly at him. But, behold! the tulip turned up her nose, and the ranunculus held her head as stiffly as possible, that she might not bow good-morrow to him. The rose with her fair, round cheeks, smiled and greeted the Child lovingly; so he went up to her and kissed her fragrant mouth. And then the rose tenderly complained that he so seldom came into the garden, and that she gave out her bloom and her fragrance the live-long day in vain; for the other flowers either could not see her, because they were too low, or did not care to look at her, because they themselves were so rich in bloom and fragrance. But she was most delighted when she glowed in the blooming head of a child, and could pour out all her heart's secrets to him in sweet odours. Among other things the rose whispered in his ear that she was the Queen of Beauty.

And in truth the Child, while looking at her beauty, seemed to have quite forgotten to go on; till the blue larkspur called to him, and asked whether he cared nothing more about his faithful friend: she said that she was unchanged, and that even in death she should look upon him with eyes of unfading blue.

The Child thanked her for her true-heartedness, and passed on to the hyacinth, who stood near the puffy, full-cheeked, gaudy tulips. Even from a distance the hyacinth sent forth kisses to him, for she knew no other way to express her love. Although she was not remarkable for her beauty, yet the Child felt himself wondrously attracted by her, for he thought no flower loved him so well. But the hyacinth poured out her full heart and wept bitterly, because she stood so lonely; the tulips were, indeed, her countrymen, but they were so cold and unfeeling that she was ashamed of them. The Child comforted her, and told her he did not think things were so bad as she fancied. The tulips spoke their love in bright looks,

while she uttered her's in fragrant words; that these, indeed, were lovelier and more intelligible, but that the others were not to be despised.

Then the hyacinth was comforted, and said she would be content; and the Child went on to the powdered auricula, who, in her bashfulness, looked kindly up to him, and would gladly have given him more than kind looks, had she had more to give. But the Child was satisfied with her modest greeting: he felt that he was poor, too, and he saw the deep, thoughtful colours that lay beneath her golden dust. But the humble flower of her own accord sent him to her neighbour, the lily, whom she willingly acknowledged as her queen. And when the Child came to the lily, the slender flower waved to-and-fro, and bowed her pale head with gentle pride and stately modesty, and sent forth a fragrant greeting to him. The Child knew not what had come to him; it reached his inmost heart, so that his eyes filled with soft tears. Then he marked how the lily gazed with a clear and steadfast eye upon the sun, and how the sun looked down again into her pure chalice, and how, amidst this interchange of looks, the three golden threads united in the centre. And the child heard one scarlet lady-bird at the bottom of the cup say to another, "Knowest thou not that we dwell in the flower of heaven ?" and the other replied, "Yes, and now will the mystery be fulfilled." And as the Child saw and heard all this, the dim image of his unknown parents, veiled, as it were, in a holy light, floated before his eyes; he strove to grasp it, but the light was gone, and the Child slipped, and would have fallen, had not the branch of a currant bush caught and held him; then he took some of the bright berries for his morning's meal, and went back to his hut, and stripped the little branches of their fruit.

Till the notes of our Woodcraft wake the morn.

Wouldst thou know of me

What our garments be?
"Tis the viewless thread,
Which the gossamers spread

As they float in the cool of a summer eve bright,
And the down of the rose
Form doublet and hose,

For our Squires of Dames on each festal night.

Wouldst thou know of me

When our revelries, be?

'Tis in the still night,

When the moonshine white

Glitters in glory o'er land and sea,

That, with nimble foot,

To tabor and flute,

THE BEAUTIFUL. A PARABLE.

EARLY one morning in June, a father took his son Theodore into a rich man's garden, where Theodore had never been before. The garden was far from the town, and beautifully adorned with all kinds of shrubs and plants, flower-beds and fruit-trees, arbours, and shady shrubberies. A clear brook flowed in various windings through the garden: rushing in a cascade from a rock; it afterwards formed a round lake, where, in the cool valley, a mill was clacking. In the finest spots in the garden were mossy seats and verdant bowers.

Theodore could not cease gazing upon and admiring all this beauty; he walked by the side of his father, mostly in silence, but at times he would exclaim: "O, father, how beautiful and how lovely is this garden!"

His father told him how, twelve years ago, this had been a desert place and marshy ground, and that the new proprietor had arranged and planted it all so beautifully.

Then the boy's astonishment increased, and he praised the skilful and judicious man, who had changed the appearance of the place so pleasantly, and made it so lovely and agreeable.

When they had seen many things, and were tired with walking, the father took the boy through the shrubberies to the cascade of the brook, and they sat down on the slope of the hill. Here they heard the rushing of the water, which threw itself foaming over the rocks, and listened to the song of the nightingale hidden in the bushes, accompanying the noise of the water. Then Theodore thought he had never before heard the nightingales sing so sweetly.

While they were sitting and listening they heard the voices of children and of a man. They were the children of the miller, a boy and girl, who led their grandfather, a blind old man, between them, and spoke to him of the blooming shrubs and trees by the wayside, cheering him with their loving words.

Then they took their grandfather to an arbour, to a seat among the singing nightingales, and kissed him and ran into the garden to fetch flowers and fruit for him.

The old man smiled, and when he was alone, he took off his cap and prayed with a joyful countenance. Then Theodore and his father were touched to the heart, and they prayed, and praised God in company with the old man. Theodore wept, overcome by his feelings. Soon after the children came back singing merrily. They brought fragrant flowers and ripe fruit for their blind grandfather.

Theodore said to his father when they returned home: "Oh, how rich and beautiful was this morning!"

THE THREE HEADS OF THE WELL.

LONG before Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, there reigned in the eastern part of England a king who kept his court at Colchester. He was witty, strong, and valiant, by which means he subdued his enemies abroad, and maintained peace among his subjects at home. Nevertheless, in the midst of his glory, his queen died, leaving behind her an only daughter, about fifteen years of age. This lady, from her courtly demeanour, beauty, and affability, was the admiration of all who knew her; but, as covetuousness is said to be the root of all evil, so it happened in this instance.

The king hearing of a lady, who had likewise an only daughter, for the sake of her riches had a mind to marry her; though she was old, ugly, hook-nosed, and humpbacked, yet all this could not deter him from marrying her. Her daughter, also, was a sallow dowdy, full of envy and ill-nature, and, in short, was much of the same mould as her mother. This signified nothing, for in a few weeks the king, attended by the nobility and gentry, brought his intended bride to his palace, where the marriage rites were performed.

They had not been long at the court before they set the king against his own beautiful daughter, which was done by false reports and accusations. The young princess, having lost her father's love, grew weary of the court, and one day meeting with her father in the garden, she desired him, with tears in her eyes, to give her a small subsistence, and she would go and seek her fortune; to which the king consented, and ordered her mother-in-law to make up a small sum according to her discretion. She went to the queen, who gave her a canvass bag of brown bread and hard cheese, with a bottle of beer: though this was but a very pitiful dowry for a king's daughter. She took it, returned thanks, and proceeded on her journey, passing through groves, woods, and valleys, till at length she saw an old man sitting on a stone at the mouth of a cave, who said, "Good morrow, fair maiden, whither away so fast ?" "Aged father," says she, "I am going to seek my fortune." "What hast thou in thy bag and bottle ?"

"Yes," said he, "with all my heart."

With that the lady pulled out her provisions, and bid him eat and welcome. He did so, and gave her many thanks, saying thus: "There is a thick thorny hedge before you, which will appear impassable, but take this wand in your hand, strike three times, and say, Pray, hedge, let me come through, and it will open immediately; then, a little further, you will find a well; sit down on the brink of it, and there will come up three golden heads, which will speak: pray do whatever they require."

Promising she would follow his directions, she took her leave. Arriving at the hedge, and pursuing the old man's direction, it divided, and gave her a passage; then, going to the well, she had no sooner sat down than a golden head came up singing

"Yes," said she, and putting forth her hand, with a silver comb performed the office, placing it upon a primrose bank. Then came up a second and a third head, making the same request, which she complied with. She then pulled out her provisions and ate her dinner.

Then said the heads one to another, "What shall we do for this lady who hath used us so kindly?"

The first said, "I will cause such addition to her beauty as shall charm the most powerful prince in the world."

The second said, "I will endow her with such perfume, both in body and breath, as shall far exceed the sweetest flowers."

The third said, My gift shall be none of the least, for, as she is a king's daughter, I'll make her so fortunate that she shall become queen to the greatest prince that reigns."

This done, at their request she let them down into the well again, and so proceeded on her journey, She had not travelled long before she saw a king hunting in the park with his nobles; she would have avoided him, but the king having caught a sight of her, approached, and, what with,her beauty and perfumed breath, was so powerfully smitten, that he was not able to subdue his passion, but commenced bis courtship immediately, and was so successful that he gained her love, and, conducting her to his palace, he caused her to be clothed in the most magnificent apparel.

This being done, and the king finding that she was the King of Colchester's daughter, ordered some chariots to be got ready, that he might pay the king a visit. The chariot in which the king and queen rode was adorned with rich gems and ornaments of gold. The king, her father, was at first astonished that his daughter had been so fortunate as she was, till the young king made him sensible of all that had happened.

Great was the joy at court amongst all, with the exception of the queen and her club-footed daughter, who were ready to burst with malice, and envied her happiness; and the greater was their madness because she was now above them all. Great rejoicings, with feasting and dancing, continued many days. Then at length, with the dowry her father gave his daughter, they returned home.

The deformed daughter, perceiving that her sister had been so happy in seeking her fortune, would needs do the same; so disclosing her mind to her mother, all preparations were made, and she was furnished, not only with rich apparel, but sweetmeats, sugar, almonds, &c., in great quantities, and a large bottle of Malaga sack. Thus provided, she went the same road as her sister, and coming near the cave, the old man said, "Young woman, whither so fast?" "What is that to you?" said she,

แ "Then," said he, "what have you in your bag and bottle ?" She answered, "Good things, which you shall not be troubled with.

"Won't you give me some ?" said he.

"No, not a bit, nor a drop, unless it would choke you." The old man frowned, saying, "Eyil fortune attend thee."

Going on, she came to the hedge, through which she espied a gap, and thought to pass through it, but going in, the hedge closed, and the thorns ran into her flesh, so that it was with great difficulty she got out.

Being now in a painful condition, she searched for water to wash herself, and, looking round, she saw the well; she sat down on the brink of it, and one of the heads came up, saying,

Wash me, and comb me,

And lay me down softly,

And lay me on a bank to dry,

That I may look pretty,
When somebody comes by.

But she banged it with her bottle, saying, "Take this for your wash

better treatment than the first; whereupon the heads consulted among themselves what evils to plague her with for such usage. The first said, "Let her be struck with leprosy in her face." The second, "Let her have a foul breath,"

The third bestowed on her a husband, though but a poor country cobbler.

This done, she goes on till she came to a town, and it being market day the people looked at her, and seeing such an evil face fled out of her sight, all but a poor cobbler, who not long before had mended the shoes of an old hermit, who, having no money, gave him a box of ointment for the cure of the leprosy, and a bottle of cordial for a foul breath.

Now the cobbler, having a mind to do an act of charity, was induced to go up to her and ask her who she was.

I am," said she, "the King of Colchester's daughter-in-law." "Well," said the cobbler, if I restore you to your natural complexion, and make a sound care both in face and breath, will you, in reward, take me for a husband ?"

66

Yes, friend," replied she, "with all my heart."

With this the cobbler applied the remedies, and they worked the cure in a few weeks, and then they were married, and after a few days they set forward for the court at Colchester.

When the queen understood she had married a poor cobbler, she fell into distraction, and hanged herself for vexation. The death of the queen was not a source of sorrow to the king, who had only married her for her fortune, and bore her no affection; and shortly afterwards he gave the cobbler a hundred pounds to take the daughter to a remote part of the kingdom, where he lived many years mending shoes, while his wife assisted the housekeeping by spinning and selling the fruit of her labours at the country market.

LOCHINVAR.

O, YOUNG LOCHÍNVAR is come out of the west,
Through all the wide border his steed was the best ;
And save his good broad-sword he weapon had none.
He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone,
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none;
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented, the gallant came late;
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
So boldly he entered the Netherby hall,
Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers and all;
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word),
"O come ye in peace here or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?"
"I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied ;
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide-
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."
The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up.
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,-
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bride-maidens whispered "Twere better by far
To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."
One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near ;
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur,
They'll have fleet steeds that follow,"quoth young Lochinvar.
There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan;
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves they rode and they ran;
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so, dauntless in

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ?

THE MERCHANT AND THE EMPEROR.

In former times Germany was governed by a rich and powerful Emperor, renowned for his courage and generosity. His name was Otho the Red, so called on account of his red beard. He married Ottegebe, a pious woman, who, when quite young, consecrated her heart to God, and strove to cultivate in her husband's heart a love of virtue, a sense of justice, and the fervor of charity.

They both united in the pious intention of founding the rich Archbishopric of Magdebourg. They endowed it with lands, towns, and castles. The emperor desired that the canons of this episcopal seat should be selected from among the sons of the noblest families. For Archbishop, he chose a prince of high birth and noble character, and desired to be himself a vassal of the prelate

When he had accomplished this great work, his mind became, unfortunately, imbued with pride; he said, that no one had ever before rendered so striking an homage to God, and that he had therefore gained an exalted place in heaven. One day, when he was in his cathedral, he addressed the Lord in the following words:

"Lord God, who art master of the universe and all created things, I have served Thee so faithfully that every tongue lauds my piety give me then to know what recompense Thou hast prepared for me." Thereupon he heard a voice saying :

"The Lord has raised thee up very high in this world: he has given thee power and riches. Thou hast made a pious use of thy wealth, and an exalted place in heaven was assigned to thee: but since thou hast become vain and proud of thy works, this place has been taken from thee. Rest contented now with the worldly favour by which thou art glorified, and to regain the eternal reward, follow the example of the good merchant, whose name is written in the Book of Life.

"What?" exclaimed the Emperor, "can there be a merchant who has attained more merit than myself in the eyes of the Almighty?" "Yes," replied the unseen voice; "it is Gerhard of Cologne, visit him, and let him relate to you his history."

Next day, Otho mounted his horse, and attended only by a modest escort, took his way to Cologne. Arrived at that city, he called together the magistrates and principal citizens, who immediately hastened to his presence. He saw among them an old man with a snow-white beard, before whom every one inclined respectfully. This man was clothed in rich apparel, and wore a magnificent belt, adorned with precious stones. It was the Good Gerhard. The Emperor stated that he had come to take counsel of the citizens of Cologne, and he begged them to name the one who among them they entertained the most respect for, in order that he might confer with him. They all, with unanimous voice, proclaimed Gerhard.

Otho took him into his private cabinet, shut the door, and begged Gerhard to say what great action he had performed, and why he was every where spoken of as the "Good Gerhard."

"Sire," replied the old man, "the people of this country, I know not the reason why, have a habit of giving such surnames. I have not deserved the one they bestow upon me; I have only had my good intentions, which the weakness of my nature has not allowed me to realize: I have bestowed upon the poor and needy only a trifling almonry, and a little bread and beer, and sometimes an old garment."

"I know very well that you have done more than this, and I desire you to tell me the thing you have done that gains you so much honour and respect from your fellow men."

The old man fell upon his knees, and entreated the Emperor not to use his imperial authority by giving such a command adding, that if, by the mercy of God, he had been so happy as to fulfil a Christian duty, any merit attached to the deed would be annulled if he made a vain boast of it.

By these words the Emperor understood how superior this modest citizen was to himself, so vain and proud of founding the see of Magdebourg. He again pressed the merchant to relate to him the events of his life, and Gerhard, daring no longer to disobey, began as follows:

"At the death of my father I inherited a considerable fortune, which I wished to increase for the benefit of my son. In order to inspire him with a taste for commerce I entrusted him with the care and management of a part of my business; then taking with me a large sum of money, and a cargo of assorted merchandise, I set forth on a voyage to heathen countries. I took with me sufficient provisions to last three years, and none but sober experienced sailors manned my ship. I sailed to Livonia, Prussia, and Russia, where I collected a large quantity of valuable furs. Then I went to Damascus, where I niade large purchases of silk goods. I then set sail towards my own country, when suddenly I was overtaken by a storm, which continued for twelve days and nights, and on the

thirteenth drove us on shore at the foot of a mountain, which no one on board the ship knew the name of. Some of my company climbed this mountain, and from the summit perceived in the distance a great city, the streets of which were full of elephants, mules, horses, and wagons laden with merchandise. Upon this intelligence I resolved to enter it. I was well received by the inhabitants. The ruler of the country, seeing me pass by, recognised that I was a stranger, sent for me, and enquired if I understood the French tongue, and if I was a Christian. When I had replied in the affirmative to these two questions, he told me that he would take me under his protection, aud that if I would bring my merchandise into the city, he would admit it without exacting custom's duties, and he assigned me a very nice house to live in.

"When I showed to him the various kinds of goods I had brought in my ship, he exclaimed-Ah! never before have I seen such magnificent things. I am the only person in this country to whom you can dispose of such rarities. Will you make an exchange? I will give you a treasure which, though useless to me, will be advantageous to you.'

66

I accepted his offer without further explanation. He then led me to a hall, where I saw twelve youthful knights, chained together in pairs; then to another hall, where I saw fifteen women of remarkable beauty.

6

"Well?' said the sovereign, will you accept of them ?' "Accept what?' I enquired.'

"These prisoners you see here. I am prepared to sell them to

"Sell them again at a good profit. These knights belong to some of the noblest English families. They were sent to accompany a princess of Denmark, whom their king intended to marry, and this princess is here, in this hall, with her fourteen companions.'

"I was greatly surprised, I must confess, at this proposal, for I had expected to see him open the treasury of a Pagan prince, and not a slave-bazaar. The prince wished me to give him the whole of my merchandise in exchange for these captives. I asked for time to consider of it, but at night, while lying asleep on my bed, the voice of an angel awoke me saying :—

succourest these unfortunate persons, thou shalt be recompensed. "God is angry at thy hesitation. In whatever manner thou If with the view of obtaining a pecuniary advantage, thou shalt have it: if to acquire honour in the eyes of the world, thou shalt acquire it: if for charity to serve God thou wilt gain an eternal crown.'

offering up my prayers, I went to the prince and informed him that "I arose from my bed thanking God for his mercy, and after formed them of what he had done. I was ready to buy his slaves. He then led me to them, and inThe men fell at my feet, promising to return me double the sum I paid for them. The princess, who spoke French, told me that her father, the King of Denmark, and the King of England also, would pay a large ransom for her.

46

"Speak not to me of ransom,' I cried, 'I willingly devote all I possess to deliver you from captivity; and God forbid that I should seek to derive any profit from this affair! Next day all my merchandise was discharged from the ship, and 1 then took leave of the prince, who embraced me, weeping, and recommended me to the protection of all the heathen gods-Jupiter, Pallas, Juno, Muhammed, Mercury, Thetys, Neptune, Eolus; and moreover promised, in remembrance of me, to be ever afterwards kind to all Christians that fell into his hands.

"The ship from which the captives had been taken was restored to them, and it sailed in company with my own. After sailing twelve days we arrived on the coast of England. I then gave to the men the means of reaching their own country, but the woinen I took with me, in order to restore them myself into the hands of their parents. I arrived happily at Cologne, and I informed my friends that I had returned home richer than ever. The merchants of the city repaired to my warehouse to see the rare things I had brought with me, and finding nothing but the stones that had served to ballast my ship, thought I was mocking them. My wife reproached me for having employed my wealth in purchasing slaves: but my son said that we had a very good fortune left still.

"I had apartments prepared in my house for my poor captives. The princess applied herself to work, and wove, in most marvellous fashion, stuffs of silk and gold. She was of so sweet a disposition, and so amiable, that whenever I experienced any annoyance the sight of her face immediately soothed my ruffled temper. Nevertheless, in spite of every effort I obtained no intelligence from her relatives, nor did I ever hear a word from the knights who had returned to England. I concluded that both the King of Denmark, and the King of England were dead, and to secure safety and protection for the young stranger, who was in Germany without friends or resources of any kind, I proposed to her that she should marry