rain has soaked me as if I had swum across | said he, "is not ill-furnished, I perceive; if your cellar corresponds to it, I shall alınost praise your housekeeping." the Weser. Let me have my clothes dried or changed, and get me by way of luncheon a well-spiced aleberry, to drive away the ague-fit that is quaking through my nerves; then I shall come to heart in some degree." "Good!" replied the knight. "Demand what you want; you are at home here." Franz made himself be served like a bashaw, and, having nothing else but currying to expect, he determined to deserve it; he bantered and bullied in his most imperious style the servants that were waiting on him; it comes all to one, thought he, in the long run. "This waistcoat," said he, "would go round a tun; bring me one that fits a little better. This slipper burns like a coal against my corns; pitch it over the lists. This ruff is stiff as a plank and throttles me like a halter; bring one that is easier, and is not plastered with starch." At this Bremish frankness the landlord, far from showing any anger, kept inciting his servants to go briskly through with their commands, and calling them a pack of blockheads who were fit to serve no stranger. The table being furnished, the Ritter and his guest sat down to it, and both heartily enjoyed their aleberry. The Ritter asked, "Would you have aught further by way of supper?" "Bring us what you have," said Franz, "that I may see how your kitchen is provided." Immediately appeared the cook and placed upon the table a repast with which a duke might have been satisfied. Franz diligently fell to, without waiting to be pressed. When he had satisfied himself, "Your kitchen,' Your kitchen," Bronkhorst nodded to his butler, who directly filled the cup of welcome with common table-wine, tasted, and presented it to his master, and the latter cleared it at a draught to the health of his guest. Franz pledged him honestly, and Bronkhorst asked, Now, fair sir, what say you to the wine?" "I say," answered Franz, "that it is bad. if it is the best sort in your catacombs, and good if it is your meanest number." "You are a judge," replied the Ritter.— "Here, butler, bring us of the mother-cask." The butler put a stoop upon the table as a sample, and Franz, having tasted it, said, "Ay, this is genuine last year's growth; we will stick by this." The Ritter made a vast pitcher of it be brought in, soon drank himself into hilarity and glee beside his guest, began to talk of his campaigns, how he had been encamped against the Venetians, had broken through their barricado and butchered the Italian squadrons like a flock of sheep. In this narrative he rose into such a warlike enthusiasm that he hewed down bottles and glasses, brandishing the carving-knife like a lance, and in the fire of action came so near his messinate with it that the latter was in fright for his nose and ears. It grew late, but no sleep came into the eyes of the Ritter; he seemed to be in his proper element when he got to speak of his Venetian campaigns. The vivacity of his narration increased with every cup he emptied, and Franz was afraid that this would prove the prologue to the melodrama in which he himself was to play the most interesting part. To learn whether it was meant that he should lodge within the castle or without, he demanded a bumper by way of good-night. Now, he thought, his host would first force him to drink more wine, and if he refused would, under pretext of a drinking quarrel, send him forth, according to the custom of the house, with the usual viaticum. Contrary to his expectation, the request was granted without remonstrance; the Ritter instantly cut asunder the thread of his narrative, and said, pleasant dreams came hovering round his fancy. He found his charming Meta in a rosy grove, where she was walking with her mother, plucking flowers. Instantly he hid himself behind a thick-leaved hedge, that the rigorous duenna might not see him. Again his imagination placed him in the alley, and by his looking-glass he saw the snow-white hand of the maiden busied with her flowers; soon he was sitting with her on the grass and longing to declare his heartfelt love to her, and the bashful shepherd found no words to do it in. He would "Time will wait on no one; more of it have dreamed till broad midday had he not to-morrow." "Pardon me, Herr Ritter," answered Franz; "to-morrow by sunrise I must over hill and dale. I am travelling a far journey to Brabant, and must not linger here. So let me take leave of you to-night, that my departure may not disturb you in the morning." "Do your pleasure," said the Ritter; "but depart from this you shall not till I am out of the feathers to refresh you with a bit of bread and a toothful of Dantzig, then attend you to the door and dismiss you according to the fashion of the house." Franz needed no interpretation of these words. Willingly as he would have excused his host this last civility, attendance to the door, the latter seemed determined to abate no whit of the established ritual. He ordered his servants to undress the stranger and put him in the guests' bed, where Franz, once settled on elastic swan's-down, felt himself extremely snug and enjoyed delicious rest; so that ere he fell asleep he owned to himself that for such royal treatment a moderate bastinado was not too dear a price. Soon been roused by the sonorous voice and clanking spurs of the Ritter, who with the earliest dawn was holding est dawn was holding a review of kitchen and cellar, ordering a sufficient breakfast to be readied, and placing every servant at his post, to be at hand when the guest should awake, to dress him and wait upon him. It cost the happy dreamer no small struggling to forsake his safe and hospitable bed. He rolled to this side and to that, but the pealing voice of the worshipful knight came heavy on his heart, and, dally as he might, the sour apple must at last be bit. So he rose from his down, and immediately a dozen hands were busy dressing him. The Ritter led him into the parlor, where a small wellfurnished table waited them ; but now, when the hour of reckoning had arrived, the traveller's appetite was gone. The host endeavored to encourage him : "Why do you not get to? Come, take somewhat for the raw foggy morning." 'Herr Ritter," answered Franz, "my stomach is still too full of your supper, but my pockets are empty; these I may fill for the hunger that is to come." With this he began stoutly cramming, and stowed himself with the daintiest and best that was transportable till all his pockets were bursting. Then, observing that his horse, well curried and equipped, was led past, he took a dram of Dantzig for goodbye, in the thought that this would be the watchword for his host to catch him by the neck and exercise his household privileges. But, to his astonishment, the Ritter shook him kindly by the hand, as at his first entrance, wished him luck by the way, and the bolted door was thrown open. He loitered not in putting spurs to his nag, and tip! tap! he was without the gate and no hair of him harmed. A heavy stone was lifted from his heart as he found himself in safety and saw that he had got away with a whole skin. He could not understand how the landlord had trusted him the shot, which, as he imagined, must have run pretty high on the chalk, and he embraced with warm love the hospitable man whose club-law arm he had so much dreaded; and he felt a strong desire to search out at the fountainhead the reason or unreason of the ill report which had affrighted him. Accordingly, he turned his horse and cantered back. The knight was still standing in the gate and descanting with his servants, for the forwarding of the science of horse-flesh, on the breed, shape and character of the nag and his hard pace. He supposed the stranger must have missed something in his travelling-gear, and he already looked askance at his servants for such negligence. the traveller. "An ill report Report has nowise told you lies; there is no saying that circulates among the people but contains in it some grain of truth. Let me tell you accurately how the matter stands. I lodge every stranger that comes beneath my roof, and divide my morsel with him for the love of God. But I am a plain German man, of the old cut and fashion, speak as it lies about my heart and require that my guest also should be hearty and confiding-should enjoy with me what I have and tell frankly what he wants. Now, there is a sort of people that vex me with all manner of grimaces, that banter me with smirkings and bows and crouchings, put all their words to the torture, make a deal of talk without sense or salt, think they will cozen me with smooth speeches, behave at dinner as women at a christening. If I say, 'Help yourself!' out of reverence they pick you a fraction from the plate which I would not offer to my dog; if I say, 'Your health!' they scarcely wet. their lips from the full cup, as if they set God's gifts at naught. Now, when the sorry "Ah! yet a word, valiant knight," cried rabble carry things too far with me, and I "What is it, young master," cried he, "that makes you turn again, when you were for proceeding?" Thy love my thoughts shall fill; Resigned, when storms of sorrow lower, My soul shall meet thy will. My lifted eye without a tear The gathering storm shall see; cannot for the soul of me know what they | When gladness wings my favored hour, HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS. LAKE SARATOGA. AN INDIAN LEGEND. met with from the Ritter Eberhard Bronk- A LADY stands beside the silver lake. horst. W Translation of THOMAS CARLYLE. DEVOTION. HILE thee I seek, protecting Power, With better hopes be filled! Thy love the powers of thought bestowed; In each event of life how clear Thy ruling hand I see! In every joy that crowns my days, What," said the Mohawk, "wouldst thou have me do?"— "Across the water, sir, be pleased to take Me and my children in thy bark canoe.” "Ah!" said the chief; "thou knowest not, I think, The legend of the lake. Hast ever heard That in its wave the stoutest boat will sink If any passenger shall speak a word ?" "Full well we know the Indian's strange belief," The lady answered, with a civil smile; "But take us o'er the water, mighty chief: In rigid silence we will sit the while.” Thus they embarked, but ere the little boat Was half across the lake the woman gave Her tongue its wonted play; but still they float, And pass in safety o'er the utmost wave. Safe on the shore, the warrior looked amazed, No word he spoke, but long the Indian gazed | Slight not the smallest losse, whether it be In moody silence in the woman's face. In love or honor: take account of all; What think you now?" the lady gayly Whether thy stock of credit swell or fall. said. "Safely to land your frail canoe is brought; No harm, you see, has touched a single head; So superstition ever comes to naught." Who say, "I care not," those I give for lost, And to instruct them 'twill not quit the cost. Scorn no man's love, though of a mean degree: Smiling, the Mohawk said, "Our safety Love is a present for a mightie king; |