of day I sprang up and rushed out of the house. I remember no more of my feelings then, than that I rejoiced that the sun did not shine brightly that morning. When at length I returned homewards, I saw from a distance a thick smoke issuing from the chimney in the laboratory. I made all speed to reach it, extinguished the fire, which was spreading fast, and found the old man, with frightfully distorted features, lying dead near the hearth-stone !"

He went on to relate that this dreadful spectacle had always presented itself before his eyes and deprived him of all peace and rest, and that his misery had increased to such a degree, that it became quite unbearable, and drove him away from his much-loved Maria. To escape as much as possible from his own thoughts, he enlisted into the army and sought the battle-field; there, amidst the stirring scenes and the adventures of the camp, amidst the dangers of war, he found as it were new life, though the past could not be entirely obliterated from his memory. But when peace came, he and several of his comrades were disbanded, and thrown upon the world without any occupation or resource. Some of the soldiers, who, having served long, had often been in battles and were accustomed to the licence and excesses of a conquering army, could not endure the idea of returning to the tame duties of civil life, and becoming tradesmen, mechanics, or day-labourers, yet who had no means of subsistence, determined to make war on their own private account. Wolf dreaded relapsing into the state of mind from which he had, with such exertion, partially escaped; and he also disliked the idea of returning to Maria as poor as he had left her. The offensive manner in which old Trymm had treated him on account of his poverty, and his prophecy that he never would be other than a beggar, often recurred to him, and he determined that by acts of daring he would prove how untrue had been the alchemist's sentence upon him. He joined, therefore, one of the bands then forming, distinguished himself among them by his courage, energy, and cleverness, and became at length chosen by his companions as their leader. Under his command the troop traversed the greater part of Germany, and he soon became renowned under the name of " The Black Huntsman."

Although he never soiled his own hands with robbery or murder, his conscience reproached him for his cognisance of these deeds, and to escape, if possible, the accusations of that secret monitor, he plunged still deeper into the wild whirl of a rover's life.

An old monk, whose life and property he had once rescued from the ferocity of his men, again awoke in his mind thoughts of his Creator, and the hope of a possibility of pardon and reconciliation with Heaven, if he gave his soul to repentance and prayer. With the return of repentant feelings came an ardent longing to see Maria again; and having employed Antonio to find her out, he secretly stole away from his comrades in order to visit her. In his absence his band, unrestrained by his presence and authority, gave unchecked sway to their worst passions, and committed enormities which he never would have allowed. The officers of justice made every effort to seize the leader of these atrocious men, and when, on account of Maria and his child, he had relaxed in his wonted caution and vigilance, it was not found difficult to arrest him.

"What I have now disclosed to you respecting my past unhappy career," Wolf continued, as he finished his tale, " you will know best whether to communicate to Maria or not. I have now two requests to

make to you, if you will be so kind as to comply with them: the one is, that you will have the goodness to take care of my poor Antonio, if, as I doubt not, he should again seek Maria's house, and put him in a situation where be can become useful and respectable; the other, that you will take the trouble to see me once more, to bring me Maria's forgiveness. I trust in the mercy of the Supreme Being that we may meet yonder again-never more to part."

As the prisoner expressed his anxious wish to hear how Maria was, Walther lost no time in going to see her. He found her in a violent fever, and in a state of utter unconsciousness: Susanna thought her end was near, and the physician gave scarcely a hope of her recovery. Sad as Walther felt at this announcement, he could not but admit to himself that death was the greatest boon the Almighty could send her.

But it had been otherwise ordained. Her most dangerous symptoms abated, the principle of life triumphed over the might of disease, and she became better in bodily health. Her intellect, however, remained obscured; the remembrance of all that had happened during the last four years was blotted out of her mind; she only recollected her youthful days, and the first period of her love for Wolf, always speaking of him as her bridegroom, who was coming soon to take her away with him. Calm and happy she sat all day in one place, weaving garlands of the flowers Susanna never failed to bring her, and singing snatches of her old songs. She was as helpless as a child, and allowed Susanna to dress her and treat her as one. She never seemed to wish to go out of doors, or to move from one spot, for "He might arrive," she would say, "and not find me."

Herr Walther had been absent for some time on business of importance; on his return his first visit was to her. He found her in a white cambric morning-dress, adorned by ribbons of a pale rose tint; she positively refused to wear any other colour. Her rich brown hair floated over her shoulders and neck, and was crowned by a wreath of natural flowers— another, nearly finished, lay on her lap, while a basket of flowers stood at her feet. She looked up when Walther came in, eyed him attentively for a moment, then went on busily arranging her flowers. Poor Walther was so shocked and distressed that he could not speak. After a few moments she took up the unfinished wreath, and waving it playfully before her, she said, "This is for my bridegroom when we go to church." "See in what a sad state she is!" cried the weeping Susanna to Walther, who fully sympathised in her grief. But all conversation between them was silenced by Maria's voice, who began to sing in a low plaintive tone

"Beneath the wild wood's lonely shade
There sat a pale yet beauteous maid,

Her heart was oppressed with woe.

The lightning flashed, the storm-wind blew-
She asked them, 'Is my love still true?'

But they answered nor yes, nor no.

The moon shone in the skies above-
She asked it, Hast thou seen my love?'
But it wandered in silence on.

The mountain stream dashed murmuring by-
She listened- Hark! was that his sigh?”
Too soon that hope was gone!

Of early morn's first golden ray
She asked, Where does my lover stray?
Tell
land or sea?'
whether on
me,
Ah! then came Death, with touch so cold,
"Thy lover thou shalt soon behold,
Maiden! but thou must follow me!'

"That is a very nice song," said she, "But my bridegroom is coming soon. come ?"

addressing herself to Walther. Do you not think he will

Walther turned away to conceal his tears. Just then the door opened and Antonio glided in. "I could not stand it any longer. I felt that I must see you." He approached Maria, but she looked at him as if she did not know him, and remained silent. He started back, and lifted up his hands in surprise and sorrow. Maria took no notice of him, and began singing again a favourite old ballad of hers:

"But what brings you here, Antonio?" cried Susanna.

"They will

lay hold of you, and put you in prison, and your fate will be the same

as your unfortunate master's."

"Let them do what they will with me," replied Antonio. do I care for life now?"

"What

Maria looked up, and after pressing her hand for a moment on her brow, she beckoned to Antonio, and said, "Are you also alone and forsaken in this world? If you are so, go with that man." ." She pointed to Walther." He looks kind and compassionate."

Walther then told Antonio of his master's request, that he should provide for him, and endeavour to reclaim him. Antonio dropped on his knee before Maria and kissed her hand; then rising and turning to Walther, he said, "It is also her wish. Dispose of me as you will."

Walther was so much afraid that the sight of Antonio might arouse Maria from that happy state of oblivion into which she had been so mercifully thrown, to a sense of the terrible reality, that he speedily hurried the youth away with him.

He took him to Wolf, who was delighted to see his faithful young follower again. Antonio's grief knew no bounds; but Wolf said all he could to comfort him, exhorted him to avoid the paths of evil, and besought him to take warning by his fate.

He spoke in such a weak, faint voice, looked so pale and exhausted, and had become so attenuated, that the gaoler told Walther aside, that his strength was sinking fast, and he hardly thought he would live to undergo his sentence, though the fatal day was drawing so near.

Maria, also, though not ill, seemed to become weaker day by day. The condition of her mind remained unchanged. Notwithstanding the frequency of Walther's visits, she never evinced the slightest sign of her former knowledge of him. But her anxiety about her bridegroom increased in intensity, and latterly a doubt appeared to have arisen in her soul whether he would really come or not. Walther felt a secret fear that her reason should be about to return. He little knew how near was the day when her spirit, shaking off all trammels, was to be called to renewed and brighter intelligence.

One morning she awoke very early, arose, and demanded her best clothes from Susanna. Her eyes danced with unusual joy-an expression of happiness was spread over her whole countenance.

"My bridegroom is coming to-day," she said. "I am quite sure of it. An angel came to me last night, and told me so."

Susanna turned away and sighed, for that was the day appointed for Wolf's execution.

"I am sure

“Ah, the little angel was very lovely," continued Maria. I have somewhere before seen those golden curls, those blue eyes, and dark eyelashes. He called me Mother,' and my heart beat with joyI felt so very, very happy."

She was soon dressed; despatched Susanna to get her some fresh flowers, and immediately began cheerfully to make a new garland. The sun arose in its grandeur; Maria watched its bright early rays, and said,

"I remember once before seeing the first dawning rays of the sun beam through the window; but then-ah! it was long, long ago-my heart was full of sorrow: to-day the sun will shine upon a happy festival for me."

Shortly after a noise was heard in the street. There was a sound of many voices-a clamour quite uncommon in the usually quiet town. Maria listened anxiously. "My bridegroom is coming!" she exclaimed. "I am ready!" Susanna looked from the window; the crowd, with Wolf in the midst of it, were coming slowly up the street; now they were nearly opposite the house. At that moment Maria placed the garland of flowers on her head, took up the little silver crucifix from a table, and crying in a joyous tone "I am coming!" she darted through the door, ran down stairs and rushed into the street, before Susanna had time to stop her, or to follow her. She forced her way through the crowd, who, after their first surprise, made way for her to pass, and gaining the middle of the street, she perceived Wolf. Her countenance glowing with joy, she sprang forward, and crying, "Here I am, Wolf, let us go!" she flung her arms around his neck. "See, yonder stands our child!" she whispered to him; "he is awaiting us." Her hands fell powerless down, her head sank back; she became cold and white as marble, and the light of life seemed to be extinguished in her fixed and glazed eyeballs. Without pain, without any bitter remembrance, in a moment of fancied happiness, her spirit passed away, and while death was yet hovering over her, the image of her child came, smiling as if in an angel's form, to guide her to the realms of peace. Wolf laid her gently upon the ground, and threw himself down by her side to imprint a last kiss upon her icy lips. The stillness of the grave reigned around. Not a being moved; few eyes were not full of tears. When, after a short interval, Wolf did not seem inclined to rise of his own accord, and one of his guards went forward to make him get up, he, too, was found to be cold and stiff. His Maker had mercifully released him, and permitted him to pass, almost at the same moment with her he loved, through the mysterious portals of death. Walther had sufficient influence to obtain permission for them to be buried side by side in a sequestered spot in the churchyard, and with his own hands he planted a weeping willow over their grave.

Feb.-VOL. CVI. NO. CCCCXXII.

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:

A BRICK WITHOUT STRAW.

BY ALFRED A. WATTS.

To scribble some lines when you ask for
Some writing you promise to read,
Should be surely no difficult task for
The most unpoetical head;
But every idea-it's a fact-I call

From the regions of fancy to write about,
Picturesque, or poetic, or practical,

I'm compelled to pack off to the right-about.

All the world has been here, there, and back, so
That of travel there's nothing to say;
From Belgravia to Catapaxo

One knows every yard of the way.
And though home-happy vale of creation-
Has scenes no less fair of its own,
It were surely a foul profanation

To hymn Edens one never has known.

Chansonettes about "coming to bowers,"
Like enigmas have gone out of late;
Emblematical bunches of flowers
Have long ago passed out of date.
Charades have been voted delightful,

But we've come to the end of their reign,
Till, like fashions which fashion votes frightful,
Their turn comes-to come in again.

I fear of the "salt" they call "Attic,"
I can claim such a limited vein,
If I tried something epigrammatic,
I should certainly have to explain;
If I pillaged a verse from a poet,

Or begged a few lines of a friend,
Some one would be certain to know it,
Though I put my own name at the end.
Stay! I think, by the way, that but few go
In search of their reading to France,
So, from Dudevant, Balzac, or Hugo,
I might, after all, steal a romance.
But no, some objection seems fated
All my brightest suggestions to thwart,
They have all been so often translated,
That every one knows them by heart.
Then why should I puzzle my head? I
Can't hit on a topic that's new;
I have prosed through five verses already,
Quite as much as you'll ever get through.
And
yours is, I'm sure, not the heart of
Mould so stern as could ask any more
Of a bondman who's not learnt the art of
Manufacturing Bricks without Straw.