"No, sir," raved out the old clerk, "and I hope you'll be flogged for having took it in defiance, though you be a senior, and a'most six foot high."

Lewis stood in irresolution; his terror for the fate of Henry Arkell was strong upon him. He flew after George Prattleton.

"Will you do me a favour ?" he panted. "I want to get into the church, and Hunt has turned obstinate about the key. Will you get it from him for me ?"

Mr. Prattleton stopped and gazed at him. "You cannot want anything in the church, Lewis. What are you up to ?"

"Do get the key for me," he entreated, unable to help betraying his emotion. "I must go in; I must, Mr. Prattleton. It may be a matter of life or death."

"You are ill, Lewis; you are agitated. What is all this ?"

"I am not ill. I only want to get into the church."

"For what purpose ?"

"It's a little private matter of "You can tell me what it is."

"No, I cannot do that."

"Then I cannot help you."

my. own."

Lewis was pushed to his wits' end. George Prattleton waited, not quite free from a little wonder and agitation himself, considering his own adventure of the past night.

"If I trust a secret to you, will you promise, on your honour, not to tell it again?" asked Lewis. "It's nothing, much; only a lark, concerning one of us boys."

"Oh, I'll promise," readily answered George Prattleton, who was rarely troubled with scruples of any sort, and was fond of "larks" himself, rather too much so.

"Well, then, I locked Harry Arkell in the church last night, and I want to go and see after him, for fear he should be dead of fright, or something of that, you know."

"In there all night? in the church all night ?" stammered George Prattleton, as if he could not take in the meaning of the words.

"He went in to practise after school yesterday evening, and I turned the key upon him, and took it back to old Hunt's, and he has been in there ever since, fastened up with the ghosts."

George Prattleton's arms dropped powerless by his side, and his face turned of a livid whiteness.

HOME LIFE IN NORWAY.

FOR some time past Norway has been a favourite subject with our littérateurs, and scarce a season elapses without one or more books being written about this certainly very interesting country. An Oxonian has described to us graphically enough the impressions produced upon him during a summer residence among the fiörds, while "Two Unprotected Females" produced a most mirth-arousing book by narrating the simple incidents and accidents that befel them during their helter-skelter scampers on rough mountain ponies across the rugged mountains of the Queen of the North. But it has always seemed to us that, although we have learned so much from travelled Thanes about Norway herself—her fiörds and glaciers, her sagas and folk-lore-her people are as yet but little known to us. We have a predilection for them intuitively, for we are told that they bear the closest affinity to Englishmen of all European nations, but of their hopes and fears, the impulses that move them, and the passions that sway them, we know comparatively little. Very welcome, then, to us was the receipt of two German volumes bearing the title of "Life and Love in Norway," by that distinguished author, Theodore Mügge. If any one should be acquainted with the inner life of the Norwegians it is this gentleman, for their country is the home of his predilection, and he has spent a useful life in collecting the romances and tales relating to the country he is so fond of. From these materials he has succeeded in producing four most interesting and exciting tales, which go to prove that domestic romance is as prevalent in the frowning North as in the sunny South. Our readers will probably bear with us, then, if we offer them an analysis of one of these stories as a specimen of the rest. In the original it bears the title of the "Schütz von Senjenöe.” At the opening of the story, Lars Stureson is proceeding to occupy his new post as Landrichter of Lenwig, on the Lappmark coast. man of dissipated character, but of good connexions, and he has quitted the revelry of Christiania to try and retrieve his position and his fortune among the half savage tribes of the North. A sudden storm compels him to seek shelter at the house of one Christie Hvaland, a rich trader, who receives him most gladly in the hope of making a friend of the powerful magistrate. He could not have fallen into better hands, for Christie was artful and designing, and soon explained to him the numerous ways in which a magistrate could make money, to which Stureson lent an attentive ear. As they sit smoking over the big-paunched case-bottles, Christie takes opportunity to express his opinion about the Lapps, and warns his guest not to behave like his predecessor, who had tried to civilise them, and thus gained the ill-will of all the Normans. His greatest sin in the trader's eyes was, that he had so foolishly neglected his income.

He is a

"When fishermen or the small farmers, mostly Finns or Quäner, or miserable Böe Lapps who settle about here, wished to spend their last species dollar in law, he interfered and settled the matter peaceably. When we came to him with our claims on the many fellows who owe us money the whole year through, and

must deliver us their hand in payment, he asked us for our books, called it godless and inhuman to let the poor people have so much spirits as well as bad provisions and useless lumber, and ask such high prices for them. And if it had been good blood, Northman blood of the old race," said Christie, turning his cap on his head, "but he actually stood up for the vagabonds from the mountains, the mountain and forest Lapps, and wished to protect their rights. At the Lapp fairs on the Malanger Fiörd, where the dirty vermin come down from all the fjells thrice a year, and where the soren-skriver usually carried home a good thousand species for fines and penalties, he stood there like a Berserker with his sword, suffered no wrong, as he called it, no overcharges, and no one dared to ridicule or insult a Lapp. Thus he punished good people for trifles, and did not carry a hundred species home with him.”

To add to his crimes in the eyes of the trader, the late Landrichter had educated a Lapp, and made him village schoolmaster. There was one comfort, however, that he could be made useful in teaching Christie's daughter Mary the pianoforte. But that strange home-longing which attacks Norwegians in the fairest climes exerted its influence over this civilised Lapp. At times he ran off to join his brethren in the deserts, and would remain away for weeks, playing to them on his fiddle, till the fever left him and he returned home, utterly exhausted, to his books. The conversation of the two men was suddenly interrupted, however, by the arrival of evidently an unwelcome guest. This was the celebrated Propst Stockfleth, formerly captain in the Danish service, who had laid down the sword and taken up the Bible, in the hope of converting the wild tribes. At the period of our story he was about fifty years of age, but still in full activity. His dark-brown travelling shirt resembled that worn by the Lapps, and the broad leathern belt belonging to it was fastened round his waist. His feet were encased in soft half-boots of reindeer hide, which his pupils know so well how to make. In his hand he held a long knotted stick with an iron spike, and his serious, benevolent face, in which two kind blue eyes glistened, revealed features of unmistakable gentleness, which would be understood by these rough children of nature. may be easily assumed that the missionary was out of place with two such men as those he now met, but still he defended his children earnestly. The following extract from the conversation they held will give an example of the arguments for and against the civilisation of the Lapps:

It

"Nothing will avail, as I understand the matter," the Landrichter interposed. "A people so sunk, wandering about with their reindeer, scarce ten thousand in number, without feeling for civilisation or settled abode, without sense for agriculture and labour-a nomad race so rough and filthy as this, and, besides, speaking fifteen different dialects, may certainly become the object of pity and philanthropic or religious exertions, but they can never lead to any useful result."

"So

Yes, so it is often said," the missionary replied, in his gentle voice. it stands in books and pamphlets, which have poured out their ridicule upon me; and so say the clever people in this country, who condemn what does not please them. But God gave life to all His creatures to resemble His likeness, and the ways of Deity are love and justice. You do not yet know the men about whom you pass an opinion, Herr Stureson: you will grow acquainted with them, and find that much can be effected to save and elevate them, which must not be called 'religious enthusiasm.' I am a poor, weak servant of the Lord, who wander up and down among them to teach them that God's eye watches over every one, and force the consolation of this doctrine into desolate and savage

hearts. I in this way discover much that remains hidden from others, and I assure you I know nothing of their falsehood, love of plunder, and treachery, although I penetrate into these wild regions unarmed and alone. This happens because they know I am their friend, do them what good I can, and protect them as far as in my power."

The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Mary and the Lapp schoolmaster, Olaf. The latter was kindly greeted by the missionary, but made the subject of Christie's coarse jokes, while the Landrichter was lost in admiration of the young girl, and ambitious thoughts occurred to him of the possibility of making his fortune more rapidly by marriage. The same thought had occurred to the crafty trader, who would gladly have raised the dignity of his family, and before long a tacit compact was entered into between the two men. For this pur

pose he determined to remain another day at Christie's, when Mary conducted him to the various spots whence the magnificent view could be enjoyed, and finally asked him to accompany her to Olaf's house, and invite him to come over in the afternoon and join in some music. When they reached the house they found Olaf kneeling at the feet of the missionary and weeping bitterly, but so soon as the strangers appeared he hurriedly rose. In the course of the conversation it appeared that the missionary had determined on taking Olaf with him and bringing him up as a pastor. And now the Landrichter was to make an unpleasant discovery. He had quitted the party after supper to enjoy the fresh breeze, when he was accosted by a Lapp, who told him that Olaf and Mary were in the habit of meeting every night, and sitting on a stone bench to talk for hours. He had watched them repeatedly from a crevice he had discovered, and, with the cunning of a half-savage, he had noticed during the day the admiring glances Stureson bestowed on Mary. The reason of his treachery was twofold: in the first place, he detested Olaf as a mountain Lapp; and, secondly, he thought he had a right to be schoolmaster instead of him. Stureson, as may be supposed, was much startled at this intelligence, and determined to confirm his suspicions by watching himself. The same night he managed to creep from the house unobserved, and hid himself in the crevice. He had not long to wait ere Mary and Olaf made their appearance and took their seat on the stone bench. The conversation he overheard fully confirmed the statement made by the treacherous Lapp; but so great was his fury at some remark Olaf made about himself, that he rushed forward and confronted the couple. Mary fainted, and Stureson seized the Lapp by the throat and hurled him over the cliff into the depths beneath. Then he turned to Mary, and, after a while, succeeded in restoring her from her fainting condition. He told her that Olaf had quitted her for ever, after acknowledging his inferiority to her, and he would not trouble her again. He promised her that he would not say a word to her father of the past, and he ventured-having her thus in his power-to whisper to her words of love, which she accepted unresistingly.

The next day, after a conversation with Christie, in which they agreed to the marriage, the Landrichter proceeded to his new house in the Malanger Fiord. He was hospitably received by the rich farmers and traders, for he could drink like a man, and his anecdotes of town-life were

a novelty to them. After settling himself comfortably in his new home, he paid a visit to Christie's, when he found that Olaf's disappearance had caused no alarm, for he was in the habit of going into the mountains for months. Stureson now made his formal application for Mary's hand, and her father gladly consented. Norway is a good old-fashioned country, where a daughter's wishes go for naught against a father's decree, so Mary was forced to consent. On his return home the Landrichter was met by the traitorous Lapp, who again renewed his request for the schoolmastership, and, on Stureson's refusal, darkly hinted that he could reveal a secret which the judge would not like to have known. But Stureson was not the man to be daunted by a half-savage, and he soon terrified him by saying that it would be easy to cause the suspicion of Olaf's murder to be thrown upon him. Having thus succeeded in all his designs, Stureson proceeded homewards, to make the preparations for welcoming his bride.

In Mary, too, a great change had taken place: the good old missionary, who knew her secret from Olaf's lips, spoke to her seriously about her duties, and she consented to follow his advice. He hoped that she would exert her influence over her husband to induce him to treat the Lapps kindly, and ameliorate their condition. Animated by this hope, Mary accepted her lot with resignation, and made all preparations for accompanying her father to the Malanger Fiörd, and receive her friends in her future husband's house. In the mean while, the Lapps were coming down from the mountains to be present at the fair. Here is a description of one of their encampments:

On a green meadow, overshadowed by beeches and shrubs, stood three lofty tents, round which from five to six hundred reindeer were collected. Half a dozen men, women, and children, were grouped round the centre and largest tent, whose coarse canvas wall was turned back and allowed a smoking fire to be seen within, over which hung a kettle from an iron chain. An old woman, with long hanging hair, was stirring the contents of the kettle, from which a penetrating odour exhaled. The men were all below the middle height, broadshouldered and thin-legged, with flat, low faces, and swollen red eyes, the women nearly all ugly, the children yellow and thin; still they had something sensible, serious, and modest about them, which rendered them rather attrac tive. With the repugnance of the real Norman, Stureson regarded their rough faces and knotted hands, their brown cotton shirts, the broad leathern girdles, from which their knife hung, and the caps, beneath which their crafty, restless eyes glistened.

This party consisted of Olaf's relations, and they were earnestly listening to the missionary's exhortation when Stureson joined them. They had come down to the Melanger fair to sell some fifty of their fattest reindeer, and purchase meal and other provisions they required for the winter. The Landrichter was invited to join their simple meal, and, after some hesitation, accepted the cup of soup Olaf's mother offered him. It was really excellent, for it was made of a mélange of the meat, heart, blood, and liver of a recently slaughtered animal, with rich milk and flour. This is the staple food of the Lapps, and their general beverage is milk. But Olaf's family was very well off: the father possessed nearly fourteen hundred reindeer, and his wants were easily satisfied. Hence it may be understood that the mountain Lapps have always de