she hastened back to the hamlet, aroused her neighbors and friends, and had search made everywhere for her lost husband. Nothing could be heard of him that night. The next day, and the next, the whole country was scoured, but without success. Weeks passed, and Kunz returned not. Greta now fully believed that he had been slain. She mourned for him sincerely, wearing the deepest weeds, and tying a black ribbon round the hat of little Susette. All the neighborhood sympathized with her, as a lone and desolate widow.

When the year of mourning was ended, the fair Greta laid aside some of her garments of sorrow. She went once more into company, for she was of a social disposition, joined sometimes in the dance, and received visitors. It was not long before she yielded to the suit of one of her neighbors, whom we shall call Fritz, and bestowed her hand upon him.

Fritz proved himself as kind-hearted and gentle as poor Kunz had been. He bore with patience the scolding of his helpmate; or when it waxed too fierce, took his hat and staff and walked out. Sometimes he would quietly go to sleep; for, being watchman to the hamlet, he had commonly but little sleep at night. The little Susette, who grew every year more charming, was his favorite, for Dame Greta never had another child. Susette was in truth the prettiest maiden in the whole village. She was neat, industrious and obedient; devotedly attached to her parents, and sincerely pious. Life passed to her like a summer's day, and it was quite a surprise to find herself seventeen. Ah! she had cause for equal surprise, to discover that love had crept into her heart!

Franz, the young and handsome son of the rich inn-keeper, Veit, was the object of this sweet girl's first affection. He loved her sincerely in return; sought her society at every opportunity, and finally made known to his father that he could not be happy without Susette for his wife. Veit was of a different opinion. In his eyes, wealth was the great thing to be coveted; and he refused to receive a portionless maiden as his daughter. He commanded his son to desist from his visits to her, and treated her and her parents with coldness and unkindness. Dame Greta took this treatment greatly to heart, and so did the good Fritz; for he loved his step-daughter, and would have given some years of his own life to secure her happiness. He tried to reason

with old Veit; but finding him obstinate, turned his attention to consoling poor Susette. For the first time in his life he wished himself rich, and began to form plans for acquiring wealth.

He was one night walking his watchman's round up and down the village, absorbed in thought. He saw a heavy, old-fashioned, yet, as well as he could observe through the darkness, splendidly decorated carriage, drawn by six horses, drive through the street, and, at no great distance from him, stop suddenly. Fritz came nearer, with some curiosity to ascertain whose was so fine an equipage. The coachman, who wore a dress of very antique fashion, called to him, requesting assistance, as a wheel of the carriage was loose. The honest watchman promptly rendered the desired help. As the coachman again mounted his box and was ready to drive on, one of the gentlemen sitting in the carriage threw the watchman three pieces of money, saying at the same time, My friend, when you want a drink of good wine, come to the Kyffhäuser, call the housekeeper, and tell her you are the person who fastened the carriage-wheel. She will give you what you want-not for sale, but for yourself and your friends.”

66

The carriage then drove off rapidly.

Fritz was not a little astonished, on looking at the coins, to find they were Wildemann's thalers (dollars). He resolved not to lay them up, but to spend them for the advantage of Susette. The next holiday he told his wife and stepdaughter to dress themselves as well as possible; and having put on his own best attire, gave each an arm, and accompanied them to Veit's inn. There he showed them into the parlor, called for refreshments and wine as if he had been a millionaire, and invited the host to drink with him. Veit accepted the invitation, curious to know how his good neighbor had become possessed of money enough to order such an entertainment.

The design of Fritz was to get the avaricious old landlord drunk, and then to obtain from him his consent to the marriage of Franz with Susette. But Veit could bear a great deal of wine; the second, the third Wildemann's dollar was spent, and, though he drank vigorous draughts, he remained, to all appearance, perfectly sober. It was not exactly so with the honest watchman. His tongue was set loose by the wine, and before the evening was over, he had related, to

the astonishment of all, his adventure with the people in the carriage. He ended by bidding Susette take a large pitcher and go to the Kyffhäuser, to ask wine of the housekeeper in the name of the person who had fastened the carriage-wheel. Susette hesitated, for she was frightened at the idea of undertaking such a commission; and her mother was unwilling to have her placed in danger. But when Franz declared himself ready to accompany her, the young girl did not see so many terrors in the way. Veit offered no opposition to his son's going. He was curious, above all things, to know whether Fritz had told a true story or not. So the young pair set off on the way to the mountain-Dame Greta first embracing her daughter, and making the sign of the cross upon her forehead.

The lovers found the road very pleasant with their conversation. The distance was traversed even too soon, and Susette's heart beat as they came to the Kyffhäuser. They sought for the door of rock; but though it was broad moonlight, they could not succeed in finding it. At length Franz, pressing the maiden's hand, said to her, "It seems, dear Susette, that chance has thrown in our way too good an opportunity to make ourselves happy, that we should lose it. We love each other-I cannot live without you; yet my father refuses his consent to our marriage, and the priest will not unite us without it. Susette, set down the pitcher, and let us fly together. We shall be safe from blame, for everybody will say we were swallowed up in the Kyffhäuser. Come, beloved, let us go. You shall be mine, and we will seek our fortune in the great world!"

But the fair maiden drew her arm from his, and answered reproachfully, "No, Franz, much as I love you-I would never do, such a thing. What! leave my mother and break her heart! and my kind stepfather! And could you serve your father thus, stern as he is? No let us be still dutiful and obedient, and God will reward us at last."

The young man continued to entreat, but Susette remained firm; and to put an end to his solicitations-lifted her trembling voice, and called, as she had been directed, on the housekeeper, in the watchman's name. For a minute after there was a deep silence; then a distant rumbling was heard, and a fissure, wide enough to admit a person, opened just above them in the mountain. The maiden

went boldly into it with her pitcher. Franz was terrified when he saw it close upon her before he had time to follow. In an agony of alarm he could only fall on his knees and pray for her preservation. His distress lasted not long; before many moments had elapsed, the fissure opened again, and the young girl came forth, her face radiant with joy, accompanied by an old woman.

"It is to thee, sweet maiden," said the housekeeper, for it was she, "I owe my release. Three hundred years 1 have waited in vain. I was doomed to serve as housekeeper in the Kyffhäuser till the hour when an innocent maiden, who had withstood sore temptation, should come for wine to the mountain. Mayest thou live happy! and fear not to ask for wine; though I shall be here no longer, the butler will bring it thee."

Susette would have asked after the emperor Frederic, but the old woman suddenly vanished; and with an exclamation of surprise, the young lovers set out on their homeward path.

All was wonder and delight when they returned to the parlor of the inn. Veit, who was an excellent judge of wine, pronounced it of the best and costliest kind. He applied himself diligently and frequently to the pitcher, with evidence of the profoundest satisfaction; but for all the good cheer, the watchman could not beguile him of a consent to the marriage. He saw the attempt would be frustrated, and not a little disappointed returned soon after, with his wife and daughter, to his own house.

As to Veit, he had no other desire than to provide himself with abundance of the rare and costly wine, Fritz had treated him with. A pitcher he thought quite too small a measure; so he took an immense empty cask, and on the next night rolled it with considerable labor to the mountain. He then shouted at the top of his voice. Amidst the echoes that resounded on every side, he fancied he heard the words; "Who is there?" and instantly replied that he had come for wine, in the name of him who mended the carriage-wheel.

He heard, indeed, a sonorous voice in reply, that seemed to come from the very depths of the Kyffhäuser. It said: "Mind my cellar there, boys!" and presently Veit felt himself pinched by invisible hands, and so severely beaten, that he was fain to run homeward with cries of pain, as fast as his legs could carry him. He arrived at the inn out of breath, and

hearing coarse and unpleasant conversation, than in any country I have ever visited. The contrast in this respect between the Americans and the French is quite remarkable. There is a spirit of true gallantry in all this, but the publicity of the railway car, where all are in one long room, and of the large ordinaries, whether on land or water, is a great protection, the want of which has been felt by many a female traveler without escort in England. As the Americans address no conversation to strangers, we soon became tolerably reconciled to living so much in public. Our fellowpassengers consisted for the most part of shopkeepers, artizans, and mechanics with their families, all well-dressed, and so far as we had intercourse with them, polite and desirous to please. A large part of them were on pleasure excursions, in which they delight to spend their spare cash.

*

"Travelers must make up their minds, in this as in other countries, to fall in now and then with free and easy people. I am bound, however, to say that in the two most glaring instances of vulgar familiarity which we have experienced here, we found out that both the offenders had crossed the Atlantic only ten years before, and had risen rapidly from a humble station. Whatever good breeding exists here in the middle classes is certainly not of foreign importation; and John Bull, in particular, when out of humor with the manners of the Americans, is often unconsciously beholding his own image in the mirror, or comparing one class of society in the United States with another in his own country, which ought, from superior affluence and leisure to exhibit a higher standard of refinement and intelligence."

In closing an account of the literary institutions of Boston, in reference to public lectures, &c., he says:

"To obtain the services of eminent men engaged in original researches, for the delivery of systematic courses of lectures, is impossible without the command of much larger funds than are usually devoted to this object. When it is stated that the fees at the Lowell Institute at Boston are on a scale more than three times higher than the remuneration awarded to the best literary and scientific public lecturers in London, it will at first be thought hopeless to endeavor to carry similar plans into execution in other large cities, whether at home or in the United States. In reality, however, the sum bequeathed by the late Mr. John Lowell for his foundation, though munificent, was by no means enormous, not much exceeding 70,000l., which, according to the usual fate awaiting donations for educational objects, would have been all swallowed up in the erection of costly

buildings, after which the learned would be invited to share the scanty leavings of the "Committee of Taste," and the merciless architect, "reliquias Danaûm atque immitis Achillei." But in the present case, the testator provided in his will that not a siugle dollar should be spent in brick and mortar, in consequence of which proviso, a spacious room was at once hired, and the intentions of the donor carried immediately into effect, without a year's delay.

"If there be any who imagine that a donation might be so splendid as to render an anti-building clause superfluous, let them remember the history of the Girard bequest in Philadelphia. Half a million sterling, with the express desire of the testator that the expenditure on architectural ornament should be moderate! Yet this vast sum is so nearly consumed, that it is doubtful whether the remaining funds will suffice for the completion of the palace-splendid indeed, but extremely ill-fitted for a schoolhouse! It is evident that when a passion so strong as that for building is to be resisted, total abstinence alone, as in the case of spirituous liquors, will prove an adequate safeguard. In the "old country," the fame fatal propensity has stood in the way of all the most spirited efforts of modern times to establish and endow new institutions for the diffusion of knowledge. It is well known that the sum expended in the purchase of the ground, and in the erection of that part of University College, London, the exterior of which is nearly complete, exceeded 100,0007., one-third of which was spent on the portico and dome, or the purely ornamental, the rooms under the dome having remained useless, and not even fitted up at the expiration of fifteen years. When the professor of chemistry he was informed that there was none, and inquired for the chimney of his laboratory, to remove the defect, a flue was run up

which encroached on a handsome staircase and destroyed the symmetry of the architect's design. Still greater was the dismay of the anatomical professor on learning that his lecture room was to conform to the classical model of an ancient theatre, designed for the recitation of Greek plays. Sir Charles Bell remarked that an anatomical theatre, to be perfect, should approach as nearly as possible to the shape of a well, that every student might look down and see distinctly the subject under demonstration. At a considerable cost the room was altered, so as to serve the ends for which it was wanted.

"The liberal sums contributed by the public for the foundation of a rival college were expended in like manner long before the academical body came into existence. When the professor of chemistry at King's College asked for his laboratory, he was told it had beer I forgotten in the

plan, but that he might take the kitchen on the floor below, and by ingenious machinery carry up his apparatus for illustrating experiments, through a trap-door into an upper story, where his lecture room was placed.

"Still these collegiate buildings, in support of which the public came forward so liberally, were left, like the Girard College, half finished; whereas, if the same funds had been devoted to the securing of teachers of high acquirements, station, character, and celebrity; and if rooms of moderate dimensions had been at first hired, while the classes of pupils remained small, a generation would not have been lost, the new Institutions would have risen more rapidly to that high rank which they are one day destined to attain, and testamentary bequests would have flowed in more copiously for buildings well adapted to the known and ascertained wants of the establishment. None would then grudge the fluted column, the swelling dome, and the stately portico; and literature and science would continue to be the patrons of architecture, without being its victims."

The last chapter of the first volume contains a lucid, and what we believe will be, to very many American readers, an acceptable expose of the Oxford and Cambridge (Eng.) systems of study. It is well worthy of careful perusal, and the valuable hints which accompany it are suggestive of good plans for our own literary and theological institutions.

We shall not attempt to follow our tourist through the British provinces. Let it be sufficient to say, that after a satisfactory rambling through this country, he made a visit to Canada, and returned to England in August, 1842, having been from home a year, where we leave him with remembrances of pleasure accumulating from the starting-point to the Thames. There may his future path be not less honored and his future labors

not less rewarded.

The following candid and good-humored paragraphs close Mr. Lyell's narrative, and may with as much propriety close this too brief and hasty notice:

"We know on the authority of the author of "Sam Slick," unless he has belied his countrymen, that some of the Blue Noses (so called from a kind of potato which thrives here) are not in the habit of setting a very high value, either on their own time or that of others. To this class, I presume, belonged the driver of a stage. coach, who conducted us from Pictou to Truro. Drawing in the reins of his four horses, he informed us that there were a

great many wild raspberries by the roadside, quite ripe, and that he intended to get off and eat some of them, as there was time to spare, for he should still arrive in Truro by the appointed hour. It is needless to say that all turned out, as there was no alternative but to wait in the inside of a hot coach, or to pick fruit in the shade. Had the same adventure happened to a traveler in the United States, it might have furnished a good text to one inclined to descant on the inconvenient independence of manners which democratic institutions have a tendency to create.

"It is no small object of ambition for a Nova Scotian to go home,' which means to leave home, and see England.' However much his curiosity may be gratified by the tour, his vanity, as I learn from several confessions made to me, is often put to a severe trial. It is mortifying to be asked in what part of the world Nova Scotia is situated-to be complimented on 'speaking good English, although an American' -to be asked what excuse can possibly be made for repudiation'-to be forced to explain to one countryman after another 'that Nova Scotia is not one of the United States, but a British province.' All this, too, after having prayed loyally every Sunday for Queen Victoria and the Prince of Wales-after having been so ready to go to war about the Canadian borderers, the New York sympathizers, the detention of Macleod and any other feud!

"Nations know nothing of one anothermost true-but unfortunately in this par

ticular case the ignorance is all on one side, knows and thinks a great deal about Engfor almost every native of Nova Scotia land. It may, however, console the Nova Scotian to reflect that there are districts in the British isles, far more populous than all his native peninsula, which the majority of the English people have never heard of, and respecting which, if they were named, few could say whether they spoke Gaelic, Welsh, or Irish, or what form of religion the greater part of them professed."

The "Travels in North America" are

issued in two volumes, or two volumes in one, and in two styles-muslin and paper covers. The bound volumes are furnished with several beautiful and valuable maps and plates illustrating the various geological features of this country and the British provinces. We are pleased to see Father Hennepin's old picture of Niagara placed in this volume, in a form in which it will be generally appreciated. The publishers have sustained their wellearned name by the beauty and finish of the work and its illustrations. It is well worthy of a place in every library.

"Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian

spring,"

said Pope. But why make a maxim of it? 'Tis the natural course of things the law of necessity. Having begun to be a writer, there is no ceasing to be one.

We have found it so. We are no longer

a "looker-on in Venice." From a careless consumer, a traveler living on the free bounties, that hung, purple and luscious, over every hedge, we have become a producer, anxious, agitated, restless; sitting under our barren fig-tree, and looking impatiently for the coming-forth and ripening of our figs. No more do we worship literature for its own sake, or bring our offering to the Muses from a pure and simple heart. We are a priest at the altar, and offer sacrifice, not like a private devotee, from the promptings of natural religion, but that we may receive our share of the savor and the fatness. Once we were content to love Genius, and listened to his voice always with a swelling heart, and often with gushing eyes. Now we have become a hard and selfish rival of our former masters. Το change the figure-we cannot stop to admire the beauty of their powers, the grace of their movements, or the marvel of their speed. We are ourselves in the race-course; we are running with them at a killing pace; and our care is not to be distanced. Our neck is stretched forward with inflexible tension, and our eye fixed, earnest and unswerving, on the goal that shines before us through the dusty distance. We dare scarce wink, much less turn to gaze at our competitors, whether in fear or in wonder, lest that very movement should lose us the laurel crown, or, more distressing still, deprive us of the "purse of gold."

"Occupet extremum scabies." There is but a certain amount of literary reputation in the world; for the crowd cannot throw up their hats, and shout for everybody. The more, there fore, we permit to others, the less remains for ourselves. Envy is a misletoe inseparably woven in the chaplet of the author, and the halo, that encircles the glittering head of Genius, is but a rain

bow formed by his beams, refracted in the tears of his clouded and frowning rivals. (That will do-you'll hardly get over passion gnaw only at the reputations of that!) Did the fangs of this corrosive the living, we should less feel the stings famished hyena, among the graves and of self-reproach: but it prowls, like a

every

lacerates the exhumed bodies of the dead. Oh! that we had been the first writer! Oh that we had lived in that early and joyous age, when all thoughts were orithe reа TEрбEvra of poets had been legisginal, and word one's own; before lated into property, or copy-rights hedged in the blossoms of the mind! That we had transcribed the face of our dear mother Nature, while yet that face was young; while the bloom was still fresh on her cheek, and the light still lustrous in her eye! That we, first of all men, by rubbing our cranium—as Aladdin his wonder-working lamp-had evoked a Genius to bring us her treasures of lifelike imagery and unforced but bold expression! Alas! eheu! etc. Love, and Anger, and Sorrow and Devotion have long since exhausted her store-house, rich, ample, and varied though it be. We, who feel as strongly as our fathers, have little left us, in air, or on earth, but their own hacknied thoughts to be clothed in words of "faded splendor," and decked off with strained or threadbare illustrations. We are "interdicti igni et aquâ” -exiles from the realm of Nature. Au

thors might as well be born bereft of their five senses; for all that can be seen been tortured out of its last possible trope, or heard, smelled, touched, or tasted, has and remains as dry as " the remainder biscuit after a voyage." We are debarred of the forest and the ocean, of the tall, gray mountains, and the overhanging sky. The stars glowed and the breezes blew for our fathers; but for us the watch-fires of heaven are all lost Pleiades, and the couriers of the earth have returned to their Æolian cave. For our lovers the dove might as well turn buzzard for our warriors the lion may " hang a calf-skin on his recreant limbs ;" for our sailors Leviathan himself has dwindled to a sprat.

: