In the three years which have just passed, the Republic has done more for the rights of man than the eighteen hundred years before. Believe me, monsieur doctor, the acquiescence of good men is a great evil; it gives boldness to scoundrels, and produces no good." into summer and spring into a tumn, so Thus the Zeitblatt expressed itself. All those present agreed with Madame Thérèse, and Uncle Jacob was going to re-er. ply, when the postman Clemenz, with his looked quite serious; no one said anylarge hat covered with waxed cloth, and thing. My uncle continued to read, stophis red leather bag, opened the door half ping a moment at each new paragraph, and way and held out the Journal. the old clock went on with its eternal tick"Will you not take some coffee, Clem- ing. enz?" said my uncle. 66 No, thank you, Monsieur Jacob; I am in haste. All the letters are late; another time." He went out, and we saw him pass before the windows running. Toward the close there was talk about the war in Vendée, the taking of Lyons, the occupation of Toulon by the English and the Spanish, the invasion of Alsace by Wurmser, and the battle of Kaiserslautern, where these famous Republicans had run away like hares. The Zeitblatt predicted the end of the Republic in the following spring, and finished with these words of the prophet Jeremiah, which it addressed to the French people,—“ Thine own wickedness shall correct thee, and thy backslidings shall reprove thee; thou shalt be put again under thy yoke, and in thy broken bands, that thou mayst know that it is a bitter thing to abandon the Lord thy God." Then my uncle folded up the Journal and said, 66 My uncle broke the band of the Journal and began to read the news of that distant time with a grave voice. Although very young then, I have kept the remembrance of it; it resembled the predictions of the mole-catcher, and inspired me with a true interest. The old Zeitblatt discoursed of the Republicans as a kind of madmen who had formed the audacious design of changing the eternal laws of nature. In the first place, it recalled the terrible manner in which Jupiter had overwhelmed the Titans, revolted against the throne, by crushing What do you think of all that? Every them under the mountains, so that ever day they tell us that this Republic is about since those unhappy beings have been vom- to come to an end; six months ago it was iting ashes and flames from Vesuvius and invaded on all sides; three-quarters of its Etna, their sepulchres. Then it spoke of provinces had revolted; La Vendée had obthe melting of the bells, stolen from the tained great victories, and we also. Well, worship of our fathers and transformed into now, it has repulsed us at almost every cannon, one of the greatest profanations which could be conceived of, since that which ought to give life to the soul was now destined to kill the body. It said also that the assignats were worth nothing, and that soon, when the nobles should have regained possession of their chateaux, and the priests of their convents, these worthless notes would only be good to light kitchen fires. It charitably warned people to refuse them, no matter at what price. After this came the list of capital executions, and unfortunately it was long; so the Zeitblatt exclaimed that these Republicans would change the proverb that wolves do not devour each other. In fine, it ridiculed the new era which pretended to be Republican, and which named its months vindemiaire, brumaire, nivose, pluviose, &c. It said that those madmen intended to change the course of the stars and the times of the seasons, to put winter point. It makes head against all Europe, which a great monarchy could not do; we are no longer in the heart of its provinces, but only on its frontiers; it advances even to our own doors, and yet they say it is about to perish! If the learned Doctor Zacharias did not write these things I should have great doubt of their sincerity." Ah! Monsieur Jacob," replied Madame Thérèse, "that doctor sees things perhaps as he desires them; that is often the case, and does not lessen the sincerity of people; they do not desire to deceive, they deceive themselves." 66 As for me," said Father Schmidt as he rose, "all that I know is that the Republican soldiers fight well, and that if the French have three or four hundred thousand of them like those I have seen, I am more afraid for ourselves than for them. That is my idea. As to Jupiter, who puts people under Vesuvius to make them vomit fire, it is a new kind of battery that I do not know about, but I should like very much to see it." "And I," said the mole-catcher, "I think that Doctor Zacharias does not know what he is talking about; if I wrote the Journal in his place I should do it differently." He stooped toward the stove to pick up a coal, for he felt a great desire to smoke. Old Schmidt followed his example, and as night had come, they all went out together, Koffel the last, pressing my uncle's hand and bowing to Madame Thérèse. BOSTON HYMN. BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON. THE word of the Lord by night And filled their hearts with flame. God said, I am tired of kings, Think ye I made this ball A field of havoc and war, My angel, his name is Freedom,- Lo! I uncover the land Which I hid of old time in the West, As the sculptor uncovers his statue, When he has wrought his best. I show Columbia, of the rocks Of clouds, and the boreal fleece. I will divide my goods; Call in the wretch and slave: None shall rule but the humble, And none but Toil shall have. I will have never a noble, No lineage counted great; Fishers and choppers and ploughmen Shall constitute a state. Go, cut down trees in the forest, And trim the straightest boughs; Cut down trees in the forest, And build me a wooden house. Call the people together, The young men and the sires, The digger in the harvest-field, Hireling and him that hires. And here in a pine State-house They shall choose men to rule In every needful faculty,— In church and state and school. Lo, now! if these poor men Can govern the land and sea, And make just laws below the sun, As planets faithful be. And ye shall succor men ; 'Tis nobleness to serve; I break your bonds and masterships, Free be his heart and hand henceforth, I cause from every creature But, laying hands on another To coin his labor and sweat, He goes in pawn to his victim For eternal years in debt. Pay ransom to the owner, And fill the bag to the brim! Who is the owner? The slave is owner, And ever was. Pay him! O North! give him beauty for rags, And honor, O South! for his shame; Nevada! coin thy golden crags With Freedom's image and name. Up! and the dusky race That sat in darkness long, - Come East and West and North, THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE.* A ROMANCE, BY BERTHOLD AUERBACH. BOOK I.-CHAPTER I. THE APPARITION. "BE patient a few minutes longer! There's a man beckoning to go with us," said the boatman to his passengers, two women and one man. The man was grayhaired, of slender form, rubicund face, and blue eyes of a kindly, but absent-minded and weary expression; a heavy moustache, wholly covering the upper lip, seemed out of keeping with this inoffensive face. He wore a new summer suit of that fashionable material which seems be-dashed and besprinkled with white, as if the wearer had purposely rolled himself in a feather bed. He had, moreover, a pretty wallet attached to a leather belt, and embroidered with blue and red beads. Opposite the man sat a tall and stately woman, with restless eyes and sharp features, that might once have been attractive. She shook her head, vexed at the delay, like one not accustomed to be kept waiting, got up, and sat down again. She wore a pale-yellow silk dress, and the white veil on her gray round hat was wound about the rim like the band around a turban. Again she threw back her head with a quick movement, then looked straight down before her, as if not to show any interest in the stranger, and boring with the point of her large parasol into the side of the boat. Near the man sat a smiling, fair maiden, in a blue summer suit, and holding in her hand, by the elastic string, a small blue hat ornamented with a bird's wing. Her head was rather large and heavy, and the broad forehead was made yet more massive by a rich abundance of braided hair; a large curl on each side rested upon her shoulder and breast. The girl's countenance was bright and clear as the clear day which shed its beams over the landscape. She put on her hat, and the mother gave it a little touch to adjust it properly. The girl exchanged quickly her coarse leather gaunt lets for delicate, glossy ones which she took out of her pocket; and while drawing them on with great dexterity, she looked at the new-comer. A tall and handsome young man, with a full brown beard, a sinewy frame, a gray shawl over his shoulder, and upon his head a broad-brimmed gray hat with black crape, came down the steep and zigzag path with a vigorous step to the shore. He stepped into the boat, and lifting his hat while bowing in silence, displayed a noble white forehead shaded by dark-brown hair. His countenance spoke courage and firmness, and, at the same time, had an expression that awakened confidence and trust. The girl cast down her eyes, while her mother once more fastened and unfastened her hat-string, contriving at the same time, with seeming carelessness, to place one long curl in front, and the other upon the shoulder behind, so as to be becoming, and to look easy and natural. The man in the mottled suit pressed the white head of his care to his lips. The stranger, seating himself apart from the others, gazed into the stream, whilst the boat was moving rapidly through the water. They landed at an island on which was a large convent, now a boarding-school for girls. "Oh, how beautiful! and are the lessons learned there?" asked the girl, pointing to a group of lofty trees on the shore, clustered so near together that they seemed to have grown out of one root, and with low seats inside the grove. "Go on!" said the mother with a reproving look to the girl, and immediately taking her husband's arm. The girl went on before, and the stranger followed them. In the thickets sang the nightingales, the blackbirds, and the finches, as if they would proclaim, "Here is the peace and the rest of Paradise, and no one disturbs us." The dark fir-trees with their sheltering branches, and the long row of light Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the district of Massachusetts. 66 green larches stood motionless by the shore, "What happened with me?" asked the and bees hummed in the blossoming chest- girl from the meadow. "Why," continued nut-trees. They reached the convent. The the father, "how often, when walking bebuilding, without any architectural pecu- hind you at the baths, have I heard people liarity, had an extended prospect of the say, What beautiful false hair!' no one garden, the meadows on the island, the now thinks that there is anything genuine." river, and the mountains. It was shut up, The girl laughed merrily to herself, and and no human being was to be seen. The then adding a violet to the nosegay on her old gentleman pulled the bell; a portress bosom, called out, "And I believe the opened a small window, and asked what stranger is a poet." Why?" asked the was wanted. Admission was demanded, mother. "Because a poet must be handbut the portress replied that it could not some like him." The old gentleman laughed, possibly be granted that evening. "Take and the mother said, Child, you are in my card, and say to the good mother manufacturing a poet out of your own imthat I am here with my wife and daughter," agination; but, silence! let us go, the portsaid the old gentleman. "Permit me to ress is beckoning to us." add also my card," said the stranger. The three looked round, struck by the pleasant tone of his voice. The stranger handed his card, and added, "Please say to the worthy Lady Superior, that I bring a message of greeting from my mother." 66 The portress closed the window quickly, while the four stood at the entrance. "I took you for a Frenchman," said the old gentleman with a kindly tone to the young man. "I am a German," he replied. 'Have you then a relative in the convent, and are you acquainted with the good mother?" "No, I know no one here." The answers of the stranger were so short and direct, that he gave no opportunity to continue the conversation, and the old gentleman appeared to be a man of position and character, who was accustomed to be addressed, and not to make advances. walked with the two ladies towards a beautiful flower-bed and placed himself with his companions upon a seat. But the girl was restless, and walking up and down along the edge of the meadow, she gathered the hidden violets. The young man remained standing as if rooted to the spot, staring at the stone steps which led up to the cloisterdoor, as though he must find out what various destinies had already gone in and out over them. He 66 The convent door opened, and the visitors entered. Behind the second grated door stood two nuns in black garments with hempen cords about their waists. The taller nun, an old lady with an extraor dinarily large nose, told them that the Lady Superior was sorry not to be able to receive any one; that it was the evening before her birth-day, and she always remained, on that day, alone until sunset; that there was a further difficulty in admitting strangers to-day, as the children—for so she called the pupils had prepared a spectacle with which to greet the Superior after sun-down; that everything was in disorder to-day, as a stage had been erected in the great dining-hall; that the Superior, however, had ordered that they should be shown over the convent. 66 The two nuns led the way through the main passage. Their step was hard and noisy, for they wore wooden shoes fastened to the feet by leather straps over the stockings. The smaller and prettier nun, with her delicate features pinched up in the closefitting cap, had kept herself timidly in the background, allowing the other to do the talking. But now she addressed the girl in the blue muslin dress, speaking in French. The mother gave a nod of satisfaction to the father, as much as to say, There, now; you see it was worth while to let the child learn something; that was my doing, and you only reluctantly consented." The father could not refrain from informing the nun with the big nose that his daughter, Lina, had returned, only six months before, from the Convent of the "Sacred Heart" at Aixla-Chapelle. The stranger also spoke a few words in French to the pretty nun. But now, and as often as he addressed her, she drew herself shyly back, apparently not from timidity, but with a nervous involuntary shrinking into herself. The breakfast-room, school-room, and music-room, and the large dormitories were shown to the strangers, and they adinired the neatness and good order the triumphant look of the girl to her paeverywhere seen. Especially in the sleep- rents. ing-rooms everything was arranged as As they were leaving the dining-hall, now prettily and neatly, as if not real human turned into a temporary theatre, Lina rebeings, much less careless children, inhabit-marked to the pretty Frenchwoman how ed them, but as if everything had been sorry she was not to be able to see her made ready for fairy visitants. In one little young friend, Hermanna Sonnenkamp; she bed only was there any disturbance. Lina herself was obliged to return that very evedrew back the curtain, and a child with ning with her parents, as they had been ingreat brown eyes looked up. The young vited to attend, to-morrow afternoon, a man had also come to the bedside. "What reception at the Countess von Wolfsgaris the matter with the child?" asked Lina. ten's. 66 66 66 Only homesickness." "Only homesick- The girl said this with a proud emphasis, ness," said the stranger in a low tone to as if assured that every one must know himself, while the lady asked, "How do what was the full significance of a reception you cure homesickness? "The house at Count von Wolfsgarten's. The Frenchkeeper has a sure method; a child com- woman must have noticed it, for she replied, plaining of homesickness is put on the sick-"Here, on the contrary, we do not know list, and must stay in bed; when she is al- each other by the names applied to us in lowed to get up, the homesickness is gone, the world outside; we here know only our and she feels at home." Go away, all of convent names. you! go away! I want Manna, I want Manna," moaned the child. She will come soon," said the nun, soothingly, adding in explanation, "No one but an American girl can pacify the child." "That must be our Manna," said Lina to her mother. The twilight was gathering, and through the galleries, in the golden evening light, strange forms rustled in long green, blue, and red garments, and then vanished within the cells. 66 The visitors went into the dining-room, at the farther end of which there was the representation of a forest scene with a hermitage; and there lay a doe bound with a red cord. The young creature fixed its great eyes on the strangers, and tugging at its cord, tried to get away. The Frenchman said that the children, aided by one of the sisters who had a natural talent that way, had themselves arranged the decorations. Large choirs had been practicing, and one of the pupils, a very remarkable child, had composed the piece which represented a scene from the life of the Superior's patron saint. 66 The German nun regretted that no stranger could be present. A copy of the song to be introduced in the play was lying upon a chair. The lady, taking it up, read it and handed it over to the young man, who ran through the verses. It's astonishing that a child should have composed them. said the lady. The young stranger felt obliged to make some reply, and observed in a somewhat careless tone, "Our German language, especially when used in rhyming, is an instrument that can easily be drummed upon and thrummed upon by any child." "I told you so; he is a poet," said May I know yours?" "Certainly; I am called sister Seraphia." The girl seemed now on more intimate terms with the French sister, since she could call her "sister Seraphia; " and she rejoiced at the thought of being able to tell at home, in her own little city, about the nun of high rank, at least a princess, whose acquaintance she had made. They walked back through the long gallery, and as they went down the steps, there came up a snow-white form with great wings on its shoulders, and a glittering diadem on its head, from which long black ringlets. streamed down over bosom and neck. Deep, black eyes, with long lashes and thick brows, gleamed out of the pale countenance. Manna!" cried Lina, and 'Manna!" echoed the vaulted ceiling. The winged apparition grasped the hand of the speaker, and leading her aside down the stairs said, "Is it you, dear Lina? Ah, I have only been with a poor child pining with homesickness; to-day I cannot speak a word with any other living soul." 66 66 "O, how wonderful you look! how splendid! To the child you must be a real live angel! And how glad they will all be at home, when I tell them." "Not a word about it. Excuse me to your parents for flitting by them, andwho, who is the young man bere with you?" The stranger seemed aware that they were talking about him, and looked from below up to the wonderful vision. He shaded his eyes with his hand, to take a better look, but he could see none of the features, nothing but the mysterious shape and the two gleaming eyes. "We don't know who he is; he joined us first in the boat; but," she added, smiling |