clined the offers made them by the Norwegian government to give up their nomadic life and become permanent settlers. And their mode of life certainly possesses a peculiar charm: in these desolate mountains there are hidden valleys that remain green even in winter, where the perennial springs melt the snow, and they are protected from all the horrors of a semi-Arctic winter. Above all, they have a consciousness of their freedom, and are not disposed to resign it for all the fancied comforts of civilisation.

On arriving at Lenwig, Mary tried to bring her betrothed round to her way of thinking, but, greatly to her grief, she found him quite hardened against any feminine notions of civilising the Lapps. On the contrary, he was longing for the moment when he could quit these rugged mountains, and spend his wife's fortune in travelling on the Continent. With a heavy heart Mary listened to all his arguments, and at length tried to persuade her father from the marriage. She told him she could never be happy with Stureson-that he was sacrificing her to his dreams of ambition: but Christie would not listen to her. He had unfortunately been a secret witness of her return home with the Landrichter on that memorable night, and he ascribed her hesitation to maiden coyness. He would not hear of the match being deferred, and began spreading the news among all his friends at the fair.

The next morning the fair began, and with daybreak the air resounded with the shouts of many hundred men. Christie had been up for a long time, making his preparations, and was cutting splints from a tough, woody, reddish mass, which he masticated vigorously, and eventually swallowed with all outward signs of satisfaction. This mass was the favourite repast of the true Northman—a smoked mutton ham. After a while he went off to business, the Landrichter accompanying him to open his court, where numerous plaintiffs and defendants appeared before him. Mary was soon surrounded by a number of young friends, all congratulating her on her good fortune, and talking of the festivities which would accompany her marriage. At length they started to visit the fair, where all were in high glee. The greater part of the wildly shouting, chattering, and noisy crowd consisted of Lapps, who had come down from the mountains with their wives and children. Old men, with strange flattened noses, women of terrible ugliness, with dirty yellow faces, who laughed incessantly, and displayed their scurvy-eaten teeth, flocked round the booths of the favourite traders, and kept up a deafening conversation. They were selling their goods by barter, their reindeer hams, skins, and horns, their living produce, birds of every variety, which they carried by dozens, spitted on long birch rods; gaily adorned petticoats, which the young women manage to embroider with some degree of skill; the soft reindeer boots, sewn together with deer sinews; the skins of bears and wolves, foxes and otters; sacks full of the feathers of the large white seamews, eider-ducks, and other warmly-feathered aquatic birds; and for these articles they demanded powder and shot, iron pots and kettles, flour for their nourishing soups, coarse canvas for their huts, and lastly, shining hard species dollars to bury with the others. It is a curious custom, be it known, among the Lapps, to bury their savings in iron pots in some part of the desert, by which considerable sums are

annually lost, as even on their death-beds they can scarce find heart to tell their wives or children the exact spot where the treasure lies buried.

The traders carried on the exchange with cleverness and profit, but many fishermen and colonists had come to market from the arms and bays of the Great Malanger Fiörd-and from the islands of which thousands lie scattered between Senjenöe and the north coast-to provide themselves with winter meat, birds, and skins. Gigantic men of the race of the immigrant Finns were cursing savagely as they bartered with the little spiteful-looking Lapps, who would not abate their prices. The plugs of tobacco were rolled from one cheek to the other, and gave their features the strangest contortions. Their wives squatted together, smoked their husbands' pipes, and interfered in the bargain now and then with shrill cries: their reindeer were felt on the ribs, their weight examined, the prices asked greeted by contemptuous laughter, or the seller brought to better perception by the spirit-bottle.

From time to time, however, a young dandy from the mountains made his appearance among this crowd of fishermen in dark twill and shabby leathern jackets, amongst the oilskin hats of the Quäner and colonists, and the brown, dirty cotton shirts and peaked caps of the reindeer shepherds. A few of these formed a favourable distinction from their fellows, and their whole demeanour displayed a degree of civilisation and education which they had, in all probability, gained by association with educated men, and in the schools specially established for them. It was strange, though, that while the Norman fishermen, as well as the Finns, Böe Lapps, and other colonists, did not possess a single man who appeared to offer a favourable contrast with the rest of the crowd, these despised nomads had sent several pleasant-looking and well-behaved young men and women to the fair. The little Lapp beauties were, it is true, regarded with contemptuous smiles by the proud daughters of the traders on the fiörds, and scarcely looked at by the young Northmen; but they were, for all that, prettier and more graceful than many who treated them with contumely. In their blue jackets and wide petticoats, adorned with red fringe and stripes, their little white caps and aprons, and their komager adorned with arabesques of yellow, blue, and red thread, they tripped along through the crowd between the broad-shouldered Normans and their wives, and displayed finely-formed features, sparkling eyes, white teeth, and red lips. These pretty girls, in their pleasing national dress, were the heiresses of prosperous families, probably possessing from two to three thousand reindeer. They were young aristocrats, perfectly well aware that they were the object of envy among the young Lapps, and they looked prudishly away whenever a man of low birth came up to them too confidentially. There were, too, many handsome and active youths moving about among the crowd, their black locks fluttering in the breeze. They were dressed in their new brown shirts, broad embroidered sandals on their feet, and glistening feathers in their caps. Several of them brought valuable articles for sale-possibly the only artistic productions to be purchased here-namely, pouches of various sizes, elegant baskets, collars and cloaks made of the finest down of different birds, which charmed the eye by the wondrous play of colour

ing, and the shadowing which an artist could not have depicted more truthfully.

Before long the news spread through the fair that a Lapp had brought in the most beautiful feather cloak which was ever made by human hands. Mary's friends described this masterpiece to her in terms which excited her admiration. The ground was white and blue, brown and bright red feathers formed figures upon it, while it was lined with the finest down. The price he asked for it was eighty dollars, which Christie laughed at, but the Landrichter gallantly determined to spend any sum to gratify his Mary. Just as they were setting out in search of the Lapp, who had disappeared, the Landrichter was furiously assailed by the traitor who had revealed to him the secret of Mary's love for Olaf. He insisted upon being appointed schoolmaster, or he would bring the judge to the gallows. He had scarce uttered the insult ere he was seized by a dozen nervous hands, dashed to the ground and stunned, and then carried off to prison. After this episode they set out once more in search of the mantle, spurning Christie's sensible advice that they should wait till the fair was over, when the scamp would be glad enough to take twenty dollars rather than go home empty-handed. By this time buyers and sellers had found time to satisfy their hunger: here sat rows of Norman fishermen and Quäner at long clumsy tables, devouring boiled mutton, which swam in onion broth; there others were drinking bad beer and fiery spirits, shouting, yelling, smoking, and quite prepared for a row or coarse fun; Lapps with their wives and children formed circles on the grass, and sang most heartrending melodies in a nasal tone, while the bottle passed from one to the other. Their wives were dividing half-cooked fish, which they tore with their fingers and greedily swallowed, and by the side of men insensibly drunk sat the clever and cautious Lapps, counting their money, which they stowed away in their green belts, as they prepared for starting home.

In the mean while Mary and the Landrichter reached the mouth of the ravine through which the Maself rushes down, foaming fiercely, and leaping over the huge masses of rock which bar its progress. Trees grew down the sides of the mountain to the very edge of the narrow stream, while the precipitous walls looked like the open gates of some lofty tower, through which the stream had forced an egress. The granite walls went down in steep terraces sheer to the broken-off masses, which lay concealed beneath birch undergrowth and moss.

"There he is!" said Mary, with a start.

"Where ?" asked Stureson. "Who ?"

She tore herself from his arm, and without listening to his appeals, ran across the morass to the rocks.

"Are you mad?" he shouted to her. "Stop, Mary! stop! it is swampy and wet. Come back! come back! But what is that? That must be the man!" This last shout was caused by the sight of a Lapp, who was seated on one of the huge granite blocks on the bank of the Maself, and who now rose. He was a tall and youthful figure. His cap, adorned with a green bough, he had drawn deeply over his face, which was additionally hidden by a linen bandage, but his belt was mounted in silver, his shirt gaily embroidered, and on his iron-shod stick he held the splendid feather cloak, which glistened and sparkled in the Stureson saw Mary climb up the block of stone: then the Lapp held out

sun

his hand to her, knelt at her feet, and suddenly jumped up to put the cloak around her shoulders. The judge could only advance slowly, for the morass yielded beneath his feet. He was forced to keep his eyes carefully fixed on the ground in order to reach the few firm spots.

"What is the fool about ?" he muttered, when he at length drew near them, and saw them still standing close together. But suddenly he uttered a wild curse, and gazed with fixed eyes on the Lapp. Mary had her arms thrown around him; he had passed his left arm round her waist, while with the other he tore off cap and bandage. There could be no doubt: it was Olaf. Stureson comprehended it all with the speed of light.

"Is it thou who hast again come between me and Mary?" Yes, murderer that thou art!" the young man replied.

66

hand could not shed my blood."

"Look at me; thy

"Boast not, Lapp," shouted Stureson. "Fly back to thy hut and to the false priest who gave thee shelter while he pretended to be seeking thee."

""Tis thou who art false !" said Olaf. "The provost knows nothing of me. Even my nearest friends only learned yesterday that I had escaped the wolf." "Then do not rouse him. Away with thee! I hear voices-people are coming. Let her hand loose, brute! Mary, let him loose, I say. Thou seest I have means to make sure of my prey this time."

He drew a pistol from the breast-pocket of his coat and pointed it at Olaf. "Say what thou wilst have," he shouted, filled with fury and alarm. "Listen, thou dog! In Heaven's name, Mary-thy father-there he comes! Come down-come. Come into my arms, Mary, before he sees thee!"

66.

No!" Christie's daughter replied, with great violence, "never to thee, murderer! I will not. I hate-I despise thee!"

Stureson sprang towards the rock and fired his pistol, climbing the side of the moss the while like a madman. At the moment, though, when he heard a weak cry part Mary's lips, and saw her sink at Olaf's feet, and when he had but a few paces to take and seize the daring Lapp, the whistling sound of a rifle-ball was heard. Stureson drew himself up to his full height: he stumbled, tried to gain a holdfast, and then fell backwards into the morass.

Just at the moment when Christie and his friends came round the bend of the rocks, Olaf still held his smoking rifle in his hands: but they were uncertain who it was that concealed himself among the bushes and speedily disappeared from sight. In a few moments they stood lamenting round the blood-stained body of the Landrichter, who was holding his hands convulsively clasped over the wound. An aged man knelt by his side, and sought to afford him consolation: it was the missionary, who eagerly sought to stanch the wound, while Christie held his hand tightly pressed. But it was all of no avail, and with a last glance of hatred at the good missionary, the Landrichter pushed back his helping hand and fell back dead.

The grass on the top of the rock was found to be stained with blood, and this trace could be followed as far as the ravine of the Maself, but nothing further could be discovered. Stureson's pistol was found among the stones, and he had, probably, wounded his assailant. Quick-footed men, who, after a few hours, penetrated into the ravine and followed the criminal, found at various places the footprints of several reindeer of that powerful breed employed to carry heavy burdens. On branches of trees hung strips of Mary's dress, and a torn magnificent cloak of rare feathers. Every measure was employed to discover the murderer, but none led to any discovery. The stories Henrick Jansen, the traitorous Lapp told,

only rendered matters more confused. They cast a fearful suspicion on Stureson, without furnishing any proof, and brought shame and disgrace upon the rich merchant's daughter, although few would believe that she had gone away voluntarily. Christie Hvaland offered large sums to any one who would give him news of her fate; but, although many tried to gain his money, he never had occasion to pay it. Some also sought to find Olaf's brothers: but they had also disappeared with their flocks, and were never seen again on this coast. The story generally believed, in consequence, is, that it was Olaf whose bullet pierced the chest of his haughty foe, and that he is now living free in the immeasurable desert in one of the small sequestered valleys which here and there so charmingly interrupt the terrors of these icy solitudes. There Mary is said to have forgotten that his love was condemned and despised. A few years back Christie Hvaland died; however, his heiress never put in any claim, and the money he had so craved after passed into stranger hands.

In conclusion, we may safely recommend these two volumes to those of our readers who take an interest in German literature. They certainly open a new field in Northern romance, and we much regret that our necessarily limited space has compelled us to abbreviate the present story so much, that many of the beautiful descriptions of scenery and life it contains have been omitted. In the hope, however, that we may induce many of our readers to seek Mügge's new book, and fill up the gaps themselves, we humbly make our bow. We have acted as a finger-post, O reader! it is yours, then, to follow the path on which we direct

you.

for

EVENINGS AT INNS.

BY AN OLD TRAVELLER.

A RIGHT HONOURABLE romance-writer has told us, in one of his earliest works, that "a night at an inn is, to most rich Englishmen, a tedious torture most zealously to be shunned." I have myself travelled in every way: from humble pedestrianism to a cortége en prince; and I have certainly never looked forward to " a night at an inn" as a tedious

torture.

life;

I am naturally as much attached to my dwelling as the most domestic of the testacea. I can listen to "Home, sweet home" with more profound sympathy than an oyster. I could be content to remain on the same spot for the whole of my 66 but when once dislocated," I have no impatience to get to my journey's end. There is no charm for me in being able to go from London to Edinburgh in fifteen hours. Any tolerable hotel that falls in my way about dinner-time is a godsend, and there I can "take my ease," and enjoy my meals, and sleep like an honest