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Rh the entire harmony and construction of the world as it is melodiously constituted. For in six days the world was made, and [the Creator] rested on the seventh. If, then, says [Aratus], Adam, acknowledging [his guilt] and guarding the head of the Beast, according to the commandment of the Deity, will imitate Lyra, that is, ohey the Logos of God, that is, submit to the law, he will receive Corona that is situated near him. If, however, he neglect his duty, he shall be hurled downwards in company with the Beast that lies underneath, and shall have, he says, his portion with the Beast. And Engonasis seems on both sides to extend his hands, and on one to touch Lyra, and on the other Corona (and this is his confession); so that it is possible to distinguish him by means of this [sidereal] configuration itself. But Corona nevertheless is plotted against, and forcibly drawn away by another beast, a smaller Dragon, which is the offspring of him who is guarded by the foot of Engonasis. A man also stands firmly grasping with both hands, and dragging towards the space behind the Serpent from Corona; and he does not permit the Beast to touch Corona, though making a violent effort to do so. And Aratus styles him Anguitenens, because he restrains the impetuosity of the Serpent in his attempt to reach Corona. But Logos, he says, is he who, in the figure of a man, hinders the Beast from reaching Corona, commiserating him who is being plotted against by the Dragon and his offspring simultaneously.

These [constellations], "The Bears," however, he says, are two hebdomads, composed of seven stars, images of two creations. For the first creation, he affirms, is that according to Adam in labours, this is he who is seen "on his knees" [Engonasis]. The second creation, however, is that according to Christ, by which we are regenerated; and this is Anguitenens, who struggles against the Beast, and hinders him from reaching Corona, wdiich is reserved for the man. But "The Great Bear" is, he says, Helice, symbol of a mighty


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118 world towards which the Greeks steer their course, that is, for which they are being disciplined. And, wafted by the waves of life, they follow onwards, [having in prospect] some such revolving world or discipline or wisdom which conducts those back that follow in pursuit of such a world. For the term Helice seems to signify a certain circling and revolution towards the same points. There is likewise a certain other "Small Bear" [Cynosuris], as it were some image of the second creation—that formed according to God. For few, he says, there are that journey by the narrow path. But they assert that Cynosuris is narrow, towards which Aratus says that the Sidonians navigate. But Aratus has spoken partly of the Sidonians, [but means] the Phœnicians, on account of the existence of the admirable wisdom of the Phœnicians. The Greeks, however, assert that they are Phœnicians, who have migrated from [the shores of] the Red Sea into this country where they even at present dwell, for this is the opinion of Herodotus. Now Cynosura, he says, is this [lesser] Bear, the second creation; the one of limited dimensions, the narrow way, and not Helice. For he does not lead them back, but guides forward by a straight path, those that follow him being [the tail] of Canis. For Canis is the Logos, partly guarding and preserving the flock, that is plotted against by the wolves; and partly like a dog, hunting the beasts from the creation, and destroying them; and partly producing all things, and being what they express by the name "Cyon" [Canis], that is, generator. Hence it is said, Aratus has spoken of the rising of Canis, expressing himself thus; "When, however, Canis has risen no longer do the crops miss." This is what he says: Plants that have been put into the earth up to the period of Canis' rising,

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Rh frequently, though not having struck root, are yet covered with a profusion of leaves, and afford indications to spectators that they will be productive, and that they appear full of life, [though in reality] not having vitality in themselves from the root. But when the rising of Canis takes place, the living are separated from the dead by Canis; for whatsoever plants have not taken root, really undergo putrefaction. This Canis, therefore, he says, as being a certain divine Logos, has been appointed judge of quick and dead. And as [the influence of] Canis is observable in the vegetable productions of this world, so in plants of celestial growth—in men—is beheld the [power of the] Logos. From some such cause, then, Cynosura, the second creation, is set in the firmament as an imaire of a creation bv the Loiios. The Dragon, however, in the centre reclines between the two creations, preventing a transition of whatever things are from the great creation to the small creation; and in guarding those that are fixed in the [great] creation, as for instance Engonasis, observing [at the same time] how and in what manner each is constituted in the small creation. And [the Dragon] himself is watched at the head, he says, by Anguitenens. This image, he affirms, is fixed in heaven, being a certain wisdom to those capable of discerning it. If, however, this is obscure, by means of some other image, he says the creation teaches [men] to philosophize, in regard to which Aratus has expressed himself thus:

But Aratus says, near this [constellation] is Cepheus, and Cassiepea, and Andromeda, and Perseus, great lineaments of the creation to those who are able to discern them. For he asserts that Cepheus is Adam, Cassiepea Eve, Andromeda the soul of both of these, Perseus the Logos, winged off-


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120 spring of Jove, and Cetos the plotting monster. Not to any of these, but to Andromeda only does he repair, who slays the Beast; from whom, likewise taking unto himself Andromeda, who had been delivered [and] chained to the Beast, the Logos—that is, Perseus—achieves, he says, her liberation. Perseus, however, is the winged axle that pierces both poles through the centre of the earth, and turns the world round. The spirit also, that which is in the world, is [symbolized by] Cycnus, a bird—a musical animal near "The Bears"—type of the Divine Spirit, because that when it approaches the end itself of life, it alone is fitted by nature to sing, on departing with good hope from the wicked creation, [and] offering up hymns unto God. But crabs, and bulls, and lions, and rams, and goats, and kids, and as many other beasts as have their names used for denominating the stars in the firmament, are, he says, images, and exemplars from which the creation, subject to change, obtaining [the different] species, becomes replete with animals of this description.

Employing these accounts, [the heretics] think to deceive as many of these as devote themselves over-sedulously to the astrologers, from thence striving to construct a system of religion that is widely divergent from the thoughts of these [speculators.] Wherefore, beloved, let us avoid the habit of admiring trifles, secured by which the bird [styled] the owl [is captured]. For these and other such speculations are, [as it were], dancing, and not Truth. For neither do the stars yield these points of information; but men of their own accord, for the designation of certain stars, thus called them by names, in order that they might become to them easily distinguishable. For what similarity with a bear, or lion, or


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rest of Erin was fighting with Ulster to win for Queen Maeve the brown bull of Cooley in Ulster. But Maeve with all her cleverness and the strength of her champions could not overcome Cohoolin, even though the rest of Ulster, to a man, lay powerless under a magic sleep. He took no rest from fighting until Sualtam, his father, gave him a sleeping draught, unknown to him. In three days and three nights of sleep his wounds were healed, so that he rose as fresh as the sun. None could defeat him.

At last Queen Maeve persuaded Ferdia to go against him. Ferdia had been Cohoolin's mate in the fighting schools of his boyhood, and he was the equal of Cohoolin save in one feat only. For a time Ferdia had long refused the battle, for he had no wish to fight with his old companion. But Maeve sent to him men with clever and poisonous tongues who excited him by threats of shame and disgrace. He was persuaded because he had rather suffer the swords and arrows of a warrior than these men's speeches. If he conquered he was to have great rewards.

When Cohoolin heard that Ferdia was coming against him he said to Fergus: 'This battle will make a story.'

Ferdia's men were sad because they knew that either he or Cohoolin was sure to die. On the night before the battle Ferdia fell asleep slowly and then slept heavily until dawn. After that he could sleep no more for thinking of the battle. His charioteer, seeing that he


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 was anxious, tried to keep him back, but he went down early to the ford where he was to meet Cohoolin. 'The raven,' he said, 'is going to croak over that ford.' When they reached the water his charioteer spread out skins for him in the chariot and he slept again.

Cohoolin had gone easily to sleep and though he also wakened early he was not anxious, and he lay in bed until the sun was above the hills, lest it should be thought that anxiety had kept him from rest. As he started the demons and powers of the air muttered and whimpered and shrieked round about him and they made him very terrible to see. His chariot's thunder and the clashing of his arms awakened Ferdia beside the ford. The charioteer looked hard at the two horses of Cohoolin, the grey one with the long mane, and the black one with the tufted mane. It seemed to him that the chariot bore down upon them like a hawk from a cliff.

Ferdia looked up and saw the clods of earth scattered high by the two chariot horses. Through these clods, which were like birds in the air, he saw the grey horse and the black, the chariot pole of silver rising and falling, the yoke of gold, the purple hood and green fittings of the chariot. The rider was a man with thick black hair, as smooth as if a cow had licked it, and grey eyes gleaming under black brows. This, Ferdia knew at once, was Cohoolin, famous for his beauty, his wisdom, his skill in games and battle, and his too great daring. His purple tunic with white borders floated over his shoulders, clasped at his breast by a brooch of gold. His long white cloak had a border of flaming red. His gold-hilted sword lay across his knees: his right hand grasped a spear of ash wood. The shield on his back was purple surrounded by a circle of silver and chased with gold in the shapes of beasts. A dart lay ready


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Rh arithmetical rules of Subhankar were employed in 32 schools. The Guru Dakshina, another doggerel composition which is sung by the elder boys of a school from house to house to elicit donations for their master, was taught in three schools. In addition to these vernacular works, a small portion of the Sanscrit vocabulary of Amara Singh was found to be in use in one Bengali school; in another a work called Sabda Subanta, containing the rules of Sanscrit orthography, the permutations of letters in combination, and examples of the declension of nouns; and in 14 schools the Sanscrit verses of Chanakya, containing the praises of learning and precepts of morality, were read or committed to memory. All the preceding works, both vernacular and Sanscrit, were taught either from manuscripts or memoriter; but in five schools the Shishu Bodh was employed, a modern compilation in print, containing Subhankar, Chanakya, and Guru Dakshina. One teacher I found in possession of the following works in manuscript, which he professed to employ for the instruction of his scholars; viz., the arithmetic of Ugra Balaram, consisting of practical and imaginary examples which are worked; the modes of epistolary address by the same author; Subhankar; Saraswati Bandana; and Aradhan Das’s Man Bhanjan or Anger Removed, and Kalanka Bhanjan or Disgrace Removed, both relating to the loves of Radha and Krishna. In addition to the preceding, which were all in Bengali, he had also in Sanscrit the verses of Chanakya and the conjugation of the substantive verb bhu. Another teacher had the following printed works, viz., Hitopadesh, a Serampore school-book; the School book Society’s Nitikatha or Moral Instructions, 1st Part, 3rd Edition, 1818; the same Society’s Instructions for modelling and conducting Schools, 1819; Do.’s Geography, Chapter III. Introduction to Asia, 1819; Jyotis Bibaran, a Serampore school-book on astronomy; the seven first numbers of the Serampore Digdarsan or India Youth’s Magazine; and a Serampore missionary tract called Nitivakya, This person was formerly in the employment of a European gentleman who supported a Bengali school subsequently discontinued, and the books remaining in the teacher’s hands are preserved as curiosities, or as heir-looms to be admired, not used.

The seventeen thanas enumerated in Section IV. comprise the whole of this district and contain 412 vernacular schools, of which 407 are Bengali and 5 are reckoned as Hindi schools, but in fact Hindi is exclusively taught in one only, and in the remaining four both Bengali and Hindi are taught. In one school the Hindi language is written in the Bengali as well as in the Nagari characters. Hindi instruction, even to this limited extent, is in demand only in one thana, that of Deoghur, which is the most north-westerly of


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 beside him. The charioteer was a tall, stooping man, with a freckled face and curly red hair: he wore a winged cloak and he goaded the horses with a little goad of red gold. Ferdia's charioteer was fain to admire Cohoolin, and praised him so that Ferdia said angrily: 'Thou wert paid for this praise.'

Cohoolin rose up and looked forward out of the chariot. Recognizing the figure and look of this man Ferdia forgot that Cohoolin was his adversary. He was about to hail him cheerfully when their eyes met across the ford. They looked in silence. The few years since they had met had done something which kept the words on their lips unspoken. 'I am happy at thy coming,' said Ferdia. But these were the words of a foe. 'This is not a friend's welcome,' said Cohoolin. 'A welcome from thee would have pleased me at any other time, and it is I should give the welcome, for this is my country.' 'But thou wert never in my country,' Ferdia replied, a little angry. He reminded Cohoolin that at school, he being the younger, he used to tie up Ferdia's spears for him and make his bed. 'A year's difference among lads,' said Cohoolin, 'is much. What is it to men, Ferdia? But why shouldst thou fight because Maeve desires it? Thou wert my heart companion.' But Ferdia interrupted: 'Have done. We have to fight and to-morrow thy head shall be on a pole.' Cohoolin went on:

'When we were last in the same battle, Ferdia, we were fighting side by side against the enemy of both. We have fought together. We have been in troubles together. We have journeyed together in the wild places. We shared thoughts about all things. We were not separated night or day. Break not thy vow of friendship to please a woman.'


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Rh Now as to the Eatern Dictrict, its preent State is intirely unknown to us; as there is no coming at it with any Shipping, upon the Account of the vat Quantity of Ice, driven from Spitzbergen and other Northern Coats upon this Shore, which adhering to the Shore barricades the Land, and renders it wholly inacceible. We may nevertheles gather from the  Expe-

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 Ferdia remained silent; then he said: 'Enough, Cohoolin!'

'Choose then,' said Cohoolin, 'the weapons for to-day, Ferdia. For thou wert the first at the ford, and by a long time, I think.'

Ferdia chose hurling weapons, and they began to fight. The air hummed with the flying to and fro of the javelins. Each warrior was a deadly perfect thrower, but each was also able to guard himself against any throw. No blood was drawn.

'That is enough ceremony,' said Ferdia after a time, 'let us fight with spears.' Then they took their long spears. Both were so eager in the conflict that they attacked better than they guarded. Each bled and each drew blood, and at evening Ferdia said: 'Let us rest for a time, Cohoolin.'

'If it is time, let us rest,' said Cohoolin. They threw down their weapons and kissed one another. For a moment they drew apart somewhat and looked keenly in one another's faces; but they saw no evil. That night their charioteers sat together about one fire, and the horses of both men shared a stable. Whatever good ointments and lotions for his wounds were applied to Cohoolin, he sent some to Ferdia lest it might be said, if he had the victory, that it was because he was better healed. Whatever good foods and inspiriting draughts were brought to Ferdia, he sent half to Cohoolin; for there were more men to provide for him than for Cohoolin.

On the next day Cohoolin chose the weapons. They fought in their chariots, using heavy broad spears. They carved one another with hideous wounds, and they fought without resting until evening. The charioteers as well as the warriors were tired out. 'Let us


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 stop,' said Cohoolin, 'our horses are weary and our charioteers have no spirit left.' And Ferdia said: 'So let it be.' They kissed one another and forgot their anger. The professors of healing came with ointments and spells and charms; and as before Cohoolin sent part of the best of everything to Ferdia, and Ferdia sent him the best meats and drinks. Their horses were together and the charioteers lay down by the same fire.

Ferdia's face the next day was clouded. 'Thou art not thyself,' said Cohoolin. 'I know not what it is,' he answered, 'but it is not fear.' Cohoolin reproached him again for having come at the bidding of a woman.

'A man must die,' said Ferdia, 'and he cannot keep away from the place where he has to die.'

'But thou thyself,' said Cohoolin, 'art the cause of this trouble. A woman has persuaded thee.'

'I could not return except in disgrace,' was the reply.

'Oh, Ferdia!' said Cohoolin, 'there is no man or woman who could have persuaded me to do thee evil.'

Ferdia was gloomy. 'Maeve has destroyed me,' he said, 'not thou. The victory is thine, not the fault.'

'I have no strength,' said Cohoolin, 'to fight thee.'

Nevertheless, in spite of their old spotless friendship, they fought again. They used their great swords and attacked one another as if they were nothing but swords to cut and bodies to be hewn and pierced. The sword of Cohoolin could not rest away from Ferdia, nor Ferdia's away from Cohoolin. They were well matched for courage, for stubbornness, and for bloodiness, but in the evening it was Ferdia that said, 'Let us stop now, Cohoolin.' 'If it is time,' said he, 'then let us stop.' Both were sad and silent. That night the horses and charioteers of the two champions were not together.

Ferdia rose early on the next morning. He knew


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14 Expedition of the Eat Greenlanders againt the Schrellingers, that after the Detruction and total Overthrow of the Wetern Ditrict and its Colonies, the Eatern were yet tanding and flourihing. But in what Year this happened, no Notice is taken by the old Hitorians. Nevertheles from many Tokens and Remainders of probable Evidence it may be inferred, that the old Colony of the Eatern Ditrict is not yet quite extinct. To the Confirmation of which, Thormoder in his Hitory of Greenland alledges the following Paage.

Bihop Amand of Shalholt in Iceland (who Anno 1522 had been conecrated, but Anno 1540 again reigned) once returning from Norway to Iceland, was by a Storm driven Wetward upon the Coat of Greenland, which he coated for ome time Northwards, made Land towards the Evening, finding themelves off of Herjolnes; they came o near to the Shore, that they could decry the Inhabitants driving their Flocks in the Pature Grounds: But, as the

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Rh but that a certificate of the validity of the endowment given by Mr. Hely, the Collector, of 1801, is in existence.

Connected with the present means of subsistence enjoyed by learned teachers is a consideration of the amount of encouragement formerly given to the same class. One teacher stated that at one time he received five rupees a month from one, and four rupees a month from another, neighbouring zemindar,—both of whom had discontinued these payments for the last three years on the plea of diminished means. The pandit did not appear to doubt that the cause assigned was the real one. In another case it was stated that about ten or twelve years ago an endowment of 60 rupees a year, established by Rani Bhawani and paid through the Government, was discontinued. It was paid first to Jayarama Nyaya Panchanana, and afterwards to his nephew Chandreshwar Nyayalankara, on whose death it was withheld, as he left no heir. Those who mentioned this endowment considered that it was exclusively designed for the encouragement of learning, and that it was intended to be of permanent obligation. A similar opinion was not expressed respecting numerous other endowments stated to have been resumed about 20 or 25 years ago, and amounting to 8,000 or 10,000 rupees per annum. They were grants of the Rani Bhawani, and were enjoyed by upwards of thirty individuals, but it was distinctly admitted that they had been given only for life, and that the resumption was proper. The object of these endowments was stated to be the encouragement of learning, which was very carefully distinguished from the object of certain other endowments established by the same Rani and still enjoyed to the extent of 30,000 rupees by upwards of sixty persons, Brahmans, Vaishnavas, female devotees, Musalman faqirs, and reduced zemindars. The information I obtained respecting those resumed endowments was not of that determinate character which it would have been satisfactory to me to report, and I endeavoured to procure more precise details in the Collector’s Office but without success. I shall not be surprised if the statements made to me should be found erroneous, and I have the satisfaction of knowing that means have been taken to obtain, through the appropriate channel of resumption-officers, complete information respecting endowments for educational purposes whether resumed or unresumed, with the purpose of faithfully applying all that may be discovered to their legitimate objects.

Krishnanatha Nyaya Punchanana, the pandit already mentioned as enjoying an endowment of 60 rupees per annum paid through the Government, possesses a distinguished reputation amongst learned natives throughout Bengal. Several of his pupils are settled as teachers of learning at Nuddea; he is in official employment as the pandit attached to the Court of the Civil and Sessions Judge of Moorshedabad; and both his learning and office


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 well that this day would be the last of the fight, and for one or both of them the last day of life. He went down alone to the ford. Before Cohoolin appeared, he had put on his battle dress, his helmet of many jewels, his apron of brown leather, and over that a stone like a millstone, and over that again an apron of iron. Already he grasped his sharp spear in his right hand, his curved sword hung against his left thigh, and he had slung his huge bossy shield upon his back. On this day he was expecting Cohoolin to use against him the thirty-barbed harpoon which no man had yet escaped.

They were slow to begin the fight. At first they put forth their powers, not against each other, but to show off their many warlike and athletic feats of dazzling skill and unimagined strength. They seemed to forget one another in the pride of this display, except that once or twice an extraordinary sign of strength or cunning made the adversary pause from his part to give a look of curiosity—of admiration—even of dread. Once Cohoolin paused, and, after watching Ferdia, turned to his charioteer and told him that if he showed signs of yielding in the coming battle, he was to taunt and jeer at him to increase his rage. But, after one of these pauses, Ferdia had no heart left for the vain show. He began to fight in earnest.

This was, from the beginning, the worst battle. Their strength and their fury had grown together. Cohoolin had never been so furious or so strong but Ferdia was his equal. Then Cohoolin's charioteer began to taunt his master and to praise Ferdia. 'Art thou playing, Cohoolin?' he asked. 'Ferdia is playing with thee. He is like a hawk among small birds.' Then Cohoolin was contorted by one of the violent rages which had made him as famous as his beauty and prowess. He


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day had now an end, and the night drew nigh. Care beset the wayworn travelers, as to when they should go to bed and rest them. This Hagen bespake with Etzel, and it was told them soon.

Gunther spake to the host: “God be with you, we would fain go to our sleep, pray give us leave. We will come early on the morrow, whensoever ye bid.”

Etzel parted then full merrily from his guests. Men pressed the strangers on every side, at which brave Folker spake to the Huns: “How dare ye crowd before the warriors’ feet? An’ ye will not leave this, ye’ll fare full ill. I’ll smite some man so heavy a fiddle blow, that if he have a faithful friend he may well bewail it. Why give ye not way before us knights? Methinks ’t were well. All pass for knights, but be not of equal mettle.”

As the fiddler spake thus in wrath, Hagen, the brave, looked behind him. He spake: “The bold glee-man doth advise you right, ye men of Kriemhild, ye should hie you to your lodgings. I ween none of you will do what ye are minded, but would ye begin aught, come early on the morrow, and let us wanderers have peace to-night. Certes, I ween that it hath never happed with such good will on the part of heroes.”

Theu the guests were brought into a spacious hall, which they found purveyed on every side with costly


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 WITH every night piercing her like a new wound, and every morning stinging her like salt in that wound, Ruth Dudley's broken engagement had dragged itself out for four long, hideous months. There s so much fever in a woman s sorrow.

At first, to be sure, there had been no special outward and visible sign of heartbreak except the thunderstorm shadows under the girl s blue eyes. Then, gradually, very gradually, those same plucky eyes had dulled and sickened as though every indi- vidual thought in her brain was festering. Later, an occasional loosened finger ring had clattered off into her untouched plate or her reeking strong cup of coffee. At the end of the fourth month the family doctor was quite busy attesting that she had no tubercular trouble of any sort. There never yet was any stethoscope invented that could successfully locate consumption of the affections.

It was about this time that Ruth's Big Brother,

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 quivered all over. His muscles were bunched together, his veins stood out like ivy-stems about a tree. One of his eyes sank deep in his head, the other bulged. His mouth was stretched from ear to ear, and twisted so that he who looked at it could not take away his eyes. Foam dropped from his lips. His heart hammered aloud. His hair, already tangled in the fight, stood up stiff until it was like some mass of thorns filling a hedge-gap. So swollen was he that he seemed another man, or not a man, but a giant.

Cohoolin and Ferdia grappled one another until they were more like one writhing four-armed and four-legged monster than two men. Spear after spear had been bent up or broken in pieces. They could no longer see one another, but they had eyes in arms and feet and weapons. The spears and shields had eyes to wound and to avoid wounds. The inhuman glen folk and goblins that are as light and quick as echoes and more frightful than any dream, clung to their shield-rims, their sword-hilts, their spear-shafts, and flew away and returned again like swallows to a roof. The trampling of the heroes turned the river out of its course, but the river-bed where they fought was none the drier for that because of their blood. As they reeled this way or that, in the drunkenness of the fight, their followers rushed to and fro like children when a chained bull suddenly breaks loose. The bellowing and the groaning alarmed the horses, and sent them all galloping away in madness of fear. All the men who had not been trampled down by the fighters and horses set off in pursuit. The women hid themselves. Only Cohoolin's charioteer remained looking on. It was well that he did. For Ferdia gave Cohoolin a great wound with his sword, and the hero staggered. Then he called for his gaebolg with its


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 98. The Lapland Merchant, or, Selling of a fair Wind. By a late eminent Speech-Tuner, in the Opposition.

99. Memoirs of the late Opposition. (The Binding torn off, and very dirty.)

100. The History of a Robbing Red-Breast. By S. W. Y.

101. The German Quixot, or, Silesian Adventurer. On a Royal Retrie. In bad Condition.

102. A Notable Speech to Knaves of Figure, by way of Farewell, without any Thanks for it. Cum Notis variorum.

103. Jack Ketch defrauded by the Roguery of Ct Mls.

104. Cotton's Travesti. An odd Volume.

105. Mock State. A Burlesque Essay, dedicated to the City-Quality.

106. A Led-Mule with State-Trappings. An Original without a Copy.

107. An History of Deserters. The second Volume just published.

108. Present Policy not founded on Argument; or, A new Way with the Dissenters.

109. British Interest, (abridg'd.) Sells Abroad.

110. The Sacrifice of a Golden Calf. A sad Legend, in red Letters, and written on British Sheep Skins.

111. Pretty Master's Master-Stroke; or, Who triumphs in a Go-Cart? A deep Tragedy. By a Youth.


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Rh beds, long and broad, for the warriors. Lady Kriemhild planned the very greatest wrongs against them. One saw there many a cunningly wrought quilt from Arras of shining silken cloth and many a coverlet of Arabian silk, the best that might be had; upon this ran a border that shone in princely wise. Many bed covers of ermine and of black sable were seen, beneath which they should have their ease at night, until the dawn of day. Never hath king lain so lordly with his meiny.

“Alas for these night quarters,” spake Giselher, the youth, “and alas for my friends, who be come with us. However kindly my sister greeted us, yet I do fear me that through her fault we must soon lie dead.”

“Now give over your care,” quoth Hagen, the knight. “I’ll stand watch myself to-night, I trow to guard us well, until the day doth come. Therefore have no fear; after that, let him survive who may.”

All bowed low and said him gramercy. Then went they to their beds. A short while after the stately men had laid them down, bold Hagen, the hero, began to arm him. Then the fiddler, Knight Folker, spake: «If it scorn you not, Hagen, I would fain hold the watch with you to-night, until the early morn.”

The hero then thanked Folker in loving wise: “Now God of heaven requite you, dear Folker. In all my cares, I would crave none other than you alone, whenever I had need, I shall repay you well, and death hinder me not.”

Both then donned their shining armor and either took his shield in hand, walked out of the house and stood before the door. Thus they cared for the guests in faithful wise. The doughty Folker leaned his good


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 thirty barbs that opened like the fin of a perch inside the wound. At the mere sound of the weapon's name, when Cohoolin called to his charioteer, Ferdia made a downward motion of his shield to where he already had the aprons of iron and leather and the millstone to protect him. In so doing, his unguarded breast was pierced by a spear. The gaebolg followed the spear. It penetrated the aprons, it split the stone asunder, and it passed into Ferdia's body and expanded its barbs. 'That', said Ferdia, 'is enough. That is the last blow. It would be well with me now, but that I mourn for having fallen by thy hand, O friend.'

Cohoolin ran to save him from falling, and bore him in his arms to his own side of the water, away from the men of Erin, who were returning to the now silent ford. There he laid Ferdia down. As he looked at the body, he grew faint, and this the men of Erin saw, and they began to move as if to come over against him. His charioteer urged him to rise. 'Why should I rise, charioteer,' said Cohoolin, 'after such a man has fallen? What use is my strength after the deed that I have done? Ferdia will never ride again. Oh, it was treachery to make him fight against me. This is not according to the vow of friendship we made when we were scholars with Queen Scathach. It is wretched that thou shouldst die thus and I remain, O Ferdia. When we were with Scathach we were never angry with one another. If thou hadst died fighting a foe, I would not have survived thee. This was an evil combat. I know now that thou wert dear to me with thy ruddy face, thy clear blue eye, thy perfect form, thy wisdom and eloquence. No one ever bore shield like thee in battle. Now I remember how I slew Eefa's only son—my own son, but unknown until too late. Since that


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248 shield against the side of the hall, then turned him back and fetched his fiddle and served his friends as well befit the hero. Beneath the door of the house he sate him down upon a stone; bolder fiddler was there never. When the tones of the strings rang forth so sweetly, the proud wanderers gave Volker thanks. At first the strings twanged so that the whole house resounded; his strength and his skill were both passing great. Then sweeter and softer he began to play, and thus many a care-worn man he lulled to sleep. When he marked that all had fallen asleep, the knight took again his shield and left the room and took his stand before the tower, and there he guarded the wanderers against Kriemhild’s men.

’T was about the middle of the night (I know not but what it happed a litéle earlier), that bold Folker spied the glint of a helmet afar in the darkness. Kriemhild’s men would fain have harmed the guests. Then the fiddler spake: “Sir Hagen, my friend, it behooveth us to bear these cares together. Before the house I see armed men stand, and err I not, I ween, they would encounter us!”

“Be silent,” quoth Hagen, “let them draw nearer before they be ware of us. Then will helmets be dislodged by the swords in the hands of us twain. They will be sent back to Kriemhild in evil plight.”

One of the Hunnish warriors (full soon that happed) marked that the door was guarded. How quickly then he spake: “That which we have in mind may not now come to pass. I see the fiddler stand on guard. On his head he weareth a glittering helmet, shining and hard, strong and whole. His armor rings


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 strolling smokily into her room one evening, jumped back in tragic dismay at the astonishing sight that met his eyes. There, like some fierce young sacri- ficial priestess, with a very modern smutty nose and scorched cheeks, Ruth knelt on the hearth-rug, slam- ming every conceivable object that she could reach into the blazing fire. The soft green walls of the room were utterly stripped and ravished. The floor in every direction lay cluttered deep with books and pictures and clothes and innumerable small bits of bric-a-brac. Already the brimming fireplace leaked forth across the carpet in little gray, gusty flakes of ash and cinder.

The Big Brother hooted right out loud."Why, Ruthy Dudley," he gasped. "What are you doing? You look like the devil"

Blissfully unconscious of smoke or smut, the girl pushed back the straggling blond hair from her eyes and grinned, with her white teeth shot like a bolt through her under lip to keep the grin in place.

"I m not a 'devil,' she explained." I m a god ! And what am I doing? I'm creating a new heaven and a new earth."

"You won't have much left to create it with," scoffed the Big Brother, kicking the tortured wreck of a straw hat farther back into the flames.

The girl reached up impatiently and smutted her other hand across her eyes. "Nothing left to cre-

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Rh flash out like fire. By him standeth Hagen; in sooth the guests be guarded well.”

Straightway they turned again. When Folker saw this, wrathfully he spake to his comrade-at-arms: “Now let me go from the house to the warriors. I would fain put some questions to Lady Kriemhild’s men.”

“For my sake, no,” quoth Hagen. “If ye leave the house, the doughty knights are like to bring you in such stress with their swords, that I must aid you even should it be the death of all my kin. As soon as we be come into the fray, twain of them, or four, would in a short time run into the house and would bring such scathe upon the sleepers, that we might never cease to mourn.”

Then Folker answered: “Let us bring it to pass that they note that I have seen them, so that Kriemhild’s men may not deny that they would fain have acted faithlessly.”

Straightway Folker then called out to them: “How go ye thus armed, ye doughty knights? Would ye ride to rob, ye men of Kriemhild? Then must ye have the help of me and my comrade-at-arms.”’

To this none made reply. Angry grew his mood. “Fy! ye evil cowards,” spake the good knight, “would ye have murdered us asleep? That hath been done full seldom to such good heroes.”

Then the queen was told that her messengers had compassed naught. Rightly it did vex her, and with wrathful mood she made another plan. Through this brave heroes and good must needs thereafter perish.


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 youth, I have never found one like thee in might and courage, nor one whom it was so ill to have slain. It is vain for thee now to expect Finnavar, Maeve's beautiful daughter, O Ferdia.'

Presently he ordered his charioteer to take the gaebolg out of the body. The weapon was drawn out of Ferdia, and Cohoolin looked long at it and at the man whose death it was. 'Come now, Cohoolin,' said the charioteer, 'let us be going. We have been here too long.' 'Yes, we will go,' he said. 'O charioteer, every other fight of mine was a game compared with this. Fighting was a sport without a sting until to-day. O Ferdia, yesterday thou wert greater than a mountain. To-day thou art less than a shadow.' The men of Erin buried him.

Cohoolin had so many wounds that all were as one. Only his shield hand was untouched. They bore him to be bathed in the rivers of Muirhevna, rivers of his boyhood, mingled with healing herbs. His father Sualtam heard his groans and came to him. But Cohoolin bade him not to weep and think of revenge, but to go to Navan and tell King Conachoor that now he could not alone defend Ulster against all Erin. So his father mounted Cohoolin's warhorse and galloped to Navan. Twice he shouted in the palace courts: 'Men are dying, women are carried off, cattle are stolen, in Ulster.' The men of Ulster were not roused from their magic sleep. He shouted a third time and wakened Cathbad the Druid, but the druid only cursed him for shouting while Conachoor slept. Sualtam turned his horse round in a fury. The horse reared, and struck the sharp edge of his shield against the rider's neck, so that he died. But his dead head was carried by the galloping steed still


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 crying about the palace: 'Men are dying, women are carried off, cattle are stolen, in Ulster.'

King Conachoor was wakened. He gathered the men of Ulster, and they fought a great battle with the rest of Erin. The sound of the uncertain conflict roused Cohoolin from his repose among the rivers of Muirhevna. He mounted his chariot and drove quickly, and his fury decided the victory for Ulster; and with a great slaughter of Maeve's warriors he took vengeance for Ferdia's death.


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 ate it with? "she mocked. "Why, if I had any- thing left to create it with, I'd be only a me chanic!"

Then, blackened like a coal-heaver and tousled like a Skye terrier, she picked up the scarlet bellows and commenced to pump a savage yellow flame into a writhing. half-charred bundle of letters.

Through all the sweet, calm hours of that warm June night the sacrifice progressed with amazing rapacity. By midnight she had just finished stirring the fire-tongs through the ghostly, lacelike ashes of her wedding gown. At two o clock her violin went groaning into the flames. At three her Big Brother, yawning sleepily back in his nightclothes, picked her up bodily and dumped her into her bed. He was very angry. "Little Sister," he scolded, "there's no man living worth the fuss you're making over Aleck Reese!" And the little sister sat up and rubbed her smutty, scorched cheek against his cool, blue-shaven face as she tilted the drifting ashes from the bedspread. "I'm not making any 'fuss,' "she protested. "I'm only just-burning my bridges." It was the first direct allusion that she had ever made to her trouble.

Twice after that-between three o'clock and breakfast time -the Big Brother woke from his sleep with a horrid sense that the house was on fire. Twice between three o'clock and breakfast time he

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 way; the most precious articles in his shop. It was agreed that the riches of the pastor and those of the jeweller should be deposited in the same hole. But, then, who was to dig the said hole? One of the singers in church was the very pearl of honest fellows, father Moiselet, and in him every confidence could be reposed. He would not touch a penny that did not belong to him. For thirty years, in his capacity of cooper, he had the exclusive privilege of bottling off the wine of the presbytery, which was the best that could be procured. Churchwarden, sexton, butler, ringer, factotum of the church, and devoted to his vicegerent, for whom he would have risen at any hour of the night, he had all the qualities of an excellent servant, without including his discretion, intelligence, and piety. In so serious a conjuncture it was plain that they could not fix better than on Moiselet, and he was the chosen man. The hole, made with much skill, was soon ready to receive the treasure which it was intended to preserve, and six feet of earth were cast on the specie of the Curé, to which were united diamonds worth 100,000 crowns, belonging to M. Senard, and enclosed in a small box. The hollow filled up, the ground was so well flattened, that one would have betted with the devil that it had not been stirred since the creation. "This good Moiselet," said M. Senard, rubbing his hands, "has done it all admirably. Now, gentlemen cossacks, you must have fine noses if you find it out!" At the end bf a few days the allied armies made further progress, and clouds of Kirguiz, Kalmucs, and Tartars, of all hordes and all colours, appeared in the environs of Paris. These unpleasant guests are, it is well known, very greedy for plunder: they made, every where, great ravages; they passed no habitation without exacting tribute: but in their ardour for pillage they did not confine themselves to the surface, all belonged to them to the centre of the globe; and that they might not be frustrated in their pretensions, these intrepid geologists made a thousand excavations, which, to the regret of the naturalists of


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 met the Housekeeper scuttling along the halls on the same sniffy errand. Once with a flickering candle- light Ruth herself crept out to the doorway and laughed at them. "The house is n t on fire, you sillies," she cried. "Don t you know a burnt bridge when you smell it? " But the doctor had said quite distinctly :"You must watch that little girl. Sor- row in the tongue will talk itself cured, if you give it a chance; but sorrow in the eyes has a wicked, wicked way now and then of leaking into the brain."

It was the Housekeeper, though, whose eyes looked worried and tortured at breakfast time. It was the Big Brother's face that showed a bit sharp on the cheek-bones. Ruth herself, for the first time in a listless, uncollared, unbelted, unstarched month, came frisking down to the table as white and fresh and crisp as linen and starch and curls could make her.

"I'm going to town this morning," she an- nounced nonchalantly to her relieved and delighted hearers. The eyes that turned to her brother's were almost mischievous. "Could n t you meet me at twelve o'clock,"she suggested, " and take me off to the shore somewhere for lunch ? I'll be shopping on Main Street about that time, so suppose I meet you at Andrew Bernard's office."

Half an hour later she was stealing out of the

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 the country, proved to them, that in France the mines of gold or silver are not so deep as in Peru. Such a discovery was well calculated to give them additional energy; they dug with unparalleled activity, and the spoil they found in many places of concealment threw the Crœsuses of many cantons into perfect despair. The cursed cossacks! But yet the instinct which so surely led them to the spot where treasure was hidden, did not guide them to the hiding place of the Curé. It was like the blessing of heaven, each morning the sun rose and nothing new; nothing new when it set.

Most decidedly the finger of God must be recognised in the impenetrability of the mysterious inhumation performed by Moiselet. M. Senard was so fully convinced of it, that he actually mingled thanksgivings with the prayers which he made for the preservation and repose of his diamonds. Persuaded that his vows would be heard, in growing security he began to sleep more soundly, when one fine day, which was, of all days in the week, a Friday, Moiselet, more dead than alive, ran to the CurésCuré [sic].

"Ah, sir, I can scarcely speak."

"What's the matter, Moiselet?"

"I dare not tell you. Poor M. le Curé, this affects me deeply, I am paralyzed. If my veins were opened not a drop of blood would flow."

"What is the matter? You alarm me."

"The hole."

"Mercy! I want to learn no more. Oh, what a terrible scourge is war! Jeanneton, Jeanneton, come quickly, my shoes and hat."

"But, sir, you have not breakfasted."

"Oh, never mind breakfast."

"You know, sir, when you go out fasting you have such spasms."

"My shoes, I tell you."

"And then you complain of your stomach."

"I shall have no want of a stomach again all my life. Never any more—no, never—ruined."


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 creaky back door into the garden, along the gray, pebbly gravel walk between the tall tufts of crim son and purple phlox, to the little gay-faced plot of heart s-ease where the family doctor, symbolist and literalist, had bade her dig and delve every day in the good, hot, wholesome, freckly sunshine. Close by in the greensward an absurd pet lamb was tugging and bouncing at the end of its stingy tether. In a moment's time the girl had transferred the clumsy iron tether-stake to the midst of her posy bed. Then she started for the gate.

Pausing for just one repentant second with her hand on the gate latch, she turned and looked back to the ruthlessly trodden spot where the bland-eyed lamb stood eyeing her quizzically with his soft, woolly mouth fairly dripping with the tender, pre- cious blossoms. "Heart s-ease. B-a-a !" mocked the girl, with a flicker of real amusement. "Heart s-ease. B-a-a-!" scoffed the lamb, just because his stomach and his tongue happened to be made like that. Then with a quick dodge across the lane she ran to meet the electric car and started off triumphantly for the city, shutting her faint eyes resolutely away from all the roadside pools and ponds and gleams of river whose molten, ultimate peace possibilities had lured her sick mind so inces- santly for the past dozen weeks.

Two hours later, with a hectic spurt of energy,

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“ coat of mail groweth cold,” said Folker. “I ween the night hath run its course. By the air I mark that day is near.”

Then they waked the many knights who still lay sleeping. The light of dawn shone into the hall upon the strangers. On all sides Hagen gan wake the warriors, if perchance they would fain go to the minster for mass. Men now loudly rang the bells in Christian fashion. Heathens and Christians did not sing alike, so that it was seen full well that they were not as one. Gunther’s liegemen now would go to church, and all alike had risen from their beds. The champions laced them into such goodly garments, that never did hero bring better clothes to the land of any king. This vexed Hagen. He spake: “Heroes, ye should wear here other clothes. Certes, ye know full well the tales. Instead of roses, bear weapons in your hands; instead of jeweled chaplets, your bright helms and good, sith ye know full well the wicked Kriemhild’s mood. Let me tell you, we must fight to-day, so instead of silken shirts, wear hauberks, and instead of rich cloaks, good shields and broad, so that if any grow angry with you, ye be full armed. Dear my lords, and all my kin and liegemen, go willingly to church and make plaint to the mighty God of your fears and need, for know full sure that death draweth nigh us. Nor must ye forget to confess


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 she was racing up three winding, dizzy flights of stairs in a ponderous, old-fashioned office build- ing.

Before a door marked " Andrew Bernard, Attor- ney at Law," she stopped and waited a frightened moment for breath and courage. As though the pounding of her heart had really sounded as loud as it felt, the door handle turned abruptly, and a very tall, broad-shouldered, grave-faced young man greeted her with attractive astonishment.

"Good morning, Drew," she began politely. "Why, I have n t seen you for a year." Then, with alarming vehemence, she finished: "Are you all alone? I want to talk with you."

Her breathlessness, her embarrassment, her fra- gile intensity sobered the young man instantly as he led her into his private office and stood for a moment staring inquiringly into her white face. Her mouth was just as he had last seen it a year ago, fresh and whimsical and virginal as a child's ; but her eyes were scorched and dazed like the eyes of a ship wreck survivor or any other person who has been forced unexpectedly to stare upon life's big emotions with the naked eye.

"I hear you'Ve been ill this spring," he began gently."If you wanted to talk with me, Ruthy, why did n t you let me come out to the house and see you? Would n t it have been easier?"

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Rh aught that ye have done and stand full zealously before your God. Of this I warn you, noble knights, unless God in heaven so will, ye ’ll never more hear mass.”

So the princes and their liegemen went to the minster. In the holy churchyard bold Hagen bade them halt, that they might not be parted. He spake: “Of a truth none knoweth what will hap to us from the Huns. Place, my friends, your shields before your feet, and if any proffer you cold greeting, repay it with deep and mortal wounds. That is Hagen’s counsel, that ye may so be found as doth befit your honor.”

Folker and Hagen, the twain, then hied them to the spacious minster. This was done that the queen might press upon them in the crowd. Certes, she was passing grim. Then came the lord of the land and his fair wife, her body adorned with rich apparel; doughty warriors, too, were seen to walk beside her. One saw the dust rise high from Kriemhild’s band. When mighty Etzel spied the kings and their fellowship thus armed, how quick he spake: “Why do I see my friends thus go with helmets? Upon my troth, it grieveth me, and hath any done them aught, I shall gladly make amends, as doth think them good. Hath any made heavy their hearts or mood, I’ll show them well, that it doth irk me much. I am ready for whatever they command me.”

To this Hagen answered: “None hath done us aught; it is the custom of my lordings that they go armed at all high feasts for full three days. We should tell Etzel, had aught been done us.”

Kriemhild heard full well what Hagen spake. How right hostilely she gazed into his eyes! She would not tell the custom of their land, albeit she had known it


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 "Ruined—Jesus Maria! Is it possible? Ah! sir, run then—run—."

Whilst the Curé dressed himself in haste, and, impatient to buckle the strap, could scarcely put on his shoes, Moiselet, in a most lamentable tone, told him what he had seen.

"Are you sure of it?" said the Curé, "perhaps they did not take all."

"Ah, sir, God grant it, but I had not courage enough to look."

They went together towards the old barn, when they found that the spoliation had been complete. Reflecting on the extent of his loss, the Curé nearly fell to the ground. Moiselet was in a most pitiable state; the dear man afflicted himself more than if the loss had been his own. It was terrific to hear his sighs and groans. This was the result of a love to one's neighbour. M. Senard little thought how great was the desolation at Livry. What was his despair on receiving the news of the event! In Paris the police is the providence of people who have lost any thing. The first idea, and the most natural one, that occurred to M. Senard was, that the robbery had been committed by the cossacks, and, in such a case, the police could not avail him materially; but M. Senard took care not to suspect the cossacks.

One Monday that I was in the office of M. Henry, I saw one of those little abrupt, brisk men enter, who, at the first glance, we are convinced are interested and distrustful: it was M. Senard, who briefly related his mishap, and concluded by saying, that he had strong suspicions of Moiselet. M. Henry thought also that he was the author of the robbery, and I agreed with both. "It is very well," he said, "but still our opinion is only founded on conjecture, and if Moiselet keeps his own counsel we shall have no chance of convicting him. It will be impossible."

"Impossible?" cried M. Senard, "what will become of me? No, no, I shall not vainly implore your suc-


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252 long in Burgundy. However grim and strong the hate she bare them, yet had any told Etzel the truth, he would have surely hindered what later happed. Because of their great haughtiness they scorned to tell him. When the great crowd went past with the queen, these twain, Hagen and Folker, would not step back more than two hand-breadths, the which irked the Huns. Forsooth they had to jostle with the lusty heroes. This thought King Etzel’s chamberlains not good. Certes, they would have fain angered the champions, but that they durst not before the noble king. So there was much jostling, but nothing more.

When they had worshiped God and would hence again, many a Hunnish warrior horsed him passing soon. At Kriemhild’s side stood many a comely maid, and well seven thousand knights rode with the queen. Kriemhild with her ladies sate her down at the casements by the side of the mighty Etzel, which was him lief, for they would watch the lusty heroes joust. Ho, what stranger knights rode before them in the court! Then was come the marshal with the squires. Bold Dankwart had taken to him his lord’s retainers from the Burgundian land; the steeds of the Nibelungs they found well saddled. When now the kings and their men were come to horse, stalwart Folker gan advise that they should ride a joust after the fashion of their land. At this the heroes rode in lordly wise; none it irked what the knight had counseled. The hurtling and the noise waxed loud, as the many men rode into the broad court. Etzel and Kriemhild themselves beheld the scene. To the jousts were come six hundred knights of Dietrich’s men to match the strangers, for


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 cour. Do not you know all? can you not do all when you choose? My diamonds! my poor diamonds! I will give one hundred thousand francs to get them back again."

"You may safely offer double, for if the robber has taken due precautions, we can do nothing in the business."

"Ah! sir, you drive me to despair," replied the jeweller, weeping warm tears, and throwing himself on his knees before the chief of the division. "A hundred thousand crowns' worth of diamonds! if I must lose them, I shall die with grief. I beseech you to have pity upon me."

"Have pity,—that is easy for you to ask: but if your man is not excessively crafty, by setting some skilful agent to watch and circumvent him, we may perhaps obtain the secret from him."

"How shall I evince my gratitude to you? I care not for money: fifty thousand francs shall be the reward of him who succeeds."

"Well, Vidocq, what think you of it?"

"The affair is difficult," I answered to M. Henry, "but I will undertake it, and shall not be surprised if I come out of it with honour."

"Ah!" said M. Senard, squeezing my hand affectionately, "you restore me to life; spare nothing, I beseech you. Monsieur Vidocq; go to any expense requisite to arrive at a fortunate result. My purse is open to you, whatever be the sacrifice. Well, do you think you will succeed?"

"Yes, Sir, I do."

"Well, recover my casket, and there are ten thousand francs for you, yes, ten thousand francs. I have said it, and will not recede from my word."

In spite of the successive abatements of M. Senard, in proportion as he believed the discovery probable, I promised to exert every effort in my power to effect the desired result. But before any thing could be undertaken, it was necessary that a formal complaint should


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Rh they would have pastime with the Burgundians. Fain would they have done it, had he given them leave. Ho, what good champions rode in their train! The tale was told to Sir Dietrich and he forbade the game with Gunther’s men; he feared for his liegemen, and well he might.

When those of Berne had departed thence, there came the men of Rüdeger from Bechelaren, five hundred strong, with shields, riding out before the hall. It would have been lief to the margrave, had they left it undone. Wisely he rode then to them through the press and said to his knights, that they were ware that Gunther’s men were evil-minded toward them. If they would leave off the jousting, it would please him much. When now these lusty heroes parted from them, then came those of Thuringia, as we are told, and well a thousand brave men from Denmark. From the tilting one saw many truncheons flying hence. Irnfried and Hawart now rode inte the tourney. Proudly those from the Rhine awaited them and offered the men of Thuringia many a joust. Many a lordly shield was riddled by the thrusts. Thither came then Sir Bloedel with three thousand men. Well was he seen of Etzel and Kriemhild, for the knightly sports happed just before the twain. The queen saw it gladly, that the Burgundians might come to grief. Schrutan and Gibecke, Ramung and Hornbog, rode into the tourney in Hunnish wise. To the heroes from Burgundian land they addressed them. High above the roof of the royal hall the spear-shafts whirled. Whatever any there plied, ’t was but a friendly rout. Palace and hall were heard resounding loud through the clashing of the shields of


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 vast riches, and I am sure he will never give it to you.’

The princess was not so certain; however, she went to the king, and told him she could never marry him till he had given her the ass’s skin.

The king was both astonished and grieved at this new request, but did not hesitate an instant. The ass was sacrificed, and the skin laid at the feet of the princess.

The poor girl, seeing no escape from the fate she dreaded, wept afresh, and tore her hair; when, suddenly, the fairy stood before her.

‘Take heart,’ she said, ‘all will now go well! Wrap yourself in this skin, and leave the palace and go as far as you can. I will look after you. Your dresses and your jewels shall follow you underground, and if you strike the earth whenever you need anything, you will have it at once. But go quickly: you have no time to lose.’

So the princess clothed herself in the ass’s skin, and slipped from the palace without being seen by anyone.

Directly she was missed there was a great hue and cry, and every corner, possible and impossible, was searched. Then the king sent out parties along all the roads, but the fairy threw her invisible mantle over the girl when they approached, and none of them could see her.

The princess walked on a long, long way, trying to find some one who would take her in, and let her work for them; but though the cottagers, whose houses she passed, gave her food from charity, the ass’s skin was so dirty they would not allow her to enter their houses. For her flight had been so hurried she had had no time to clean it.

Tired and disheartened at her ill-fortune, she was wandering, one day, past the gate of a farmyard, situated just outside the walls of a large town, when she heard a voice calling to her. She turned and saw the farmer’s

title: Page:The Grey Fairy Book.djvu/21


text: The Sick-a-Bed Lady/The Amateur Lover

title: The Sick-a-Bed Lady/The Amateur Lover


text:
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Rh feast. That Kriemhild kissed only Giselher, who was innocent of Siegfried’s death, aroused Hagen’s suspicions.

vassal. No other account speaks of Aldrian as being at Etzel’s court. He is probably confused here with his son, for Hagen’s stay with Etzel in various legends, as also in our poem a few lines further down.

Walther of Spain is Walther of Aquitania, a legendary personage of whom the O. E. fragment Waldere, the Latin epic Waltharius, a M. H. G. epic, and the Thidreksaga tell. He flees with Hildegund, the daughter of the Burgundian King Herrich, from Etzel’s court, as related here, but has to fight for his life against overpowering numbers, in the Thidreksaga against the pursuing Huns, in the other sources against the Burgundians. In both cases Hagen is among his foes, but takes no part in the fight at first, out of friendship for Walther.

scathful scathe here imitates the M. H. G. scaden scedelîch.

Balmung, see note 2 to page 14.

'''friend ... friendly.''' This repetition occurs in the original.

Irnfried, see note 5 to page 181.

Hawart and Iring, see notes 3 and 4 to page 181.

morat (M. H. G. moraz) from late Latin moratum, mulberry wine, is a beverage composed of honey flavored with mulberry-juice.

Arras, the capital of Artois in the French Netherlands. In older English arras is used also for tapestry.

Adventure XXXI. This adventure is of late origin, being found only in our poem. See the introduction, page xli.

truncheons, see note 3 to page 6.

Schrutan. This name does not occur elsewhere. Piper suggests, that perhaps a Scotchman is meant, as Skorattan appears in the Thidreksaga, chap. 28, as an ancient name of Scotland.

. Gibecke, Ramung and Hornbog, see notes 1 and 2 to page 181.

Nudung, see note 1 to page 229.


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 be made; and M. Senard and the curé, thereupon, went to Pontoise, and the declaration being consequently made, and the robbery stated, Moiselet was taken up and interrogated. They tried every means to make him confess his guilt; but he persisted in avowing himself innocent, and, for lack of proof to the contrary, the charge was about to be dropped altogether, when, to preserve it for a time, I set an agent of mine to work. He, clothed in a military uniform, with his left arm in a sling, went with a billet to the house where Moiselet's wife lived. He was supposed to have just left the hospital, and was only to stay at Livry for forty-eight hours; but a few moments after his arrival, he had a fall, and a pretended sprain suddenly occurred, which put it out of his power to continue his route. It was then indispensable for him to delay, and the mayor decided that he should remain with the cooper's wife until further orders.

Madame Moiselet was one of those good, jolly, fat personages, who have no objection to living under the same roof with a wounded conscript, and bore all the joking about the accident which delayed the young soldier at her house; besides, he could console her in her husband's absence, and, as she was not thirty-six years of age, she was still at that time of life when a woman does not despise consolation. This was not all—evil tongues reproached Madame Moiselet with not liking wine—after it had been drank; that was her local reputation! The pretended soldier did not fail to caress all the weak points by which she was accessible: at first he made himself useful, and then, to complete the conciliation of the good graces of his hostess, from time to time he loosened the strings of his tolerably well-filled purse to pay for his bottle of wine.

The cooper's wife was charmed with so many little attentions. The soldier could write, and became her secretary; but the letters which she addressed to her dear husband were of a nature not to compromise her—not the least expression that can have a twofold con-


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254 Gunther’s men. With great honor his meiny gained the meed. Their pastime was so mickle and so great, that from beneath the housings of the good steeds, which the heroes rode, there flowed the frothy sweat. In haughty wise they encountered with the Huns.

Then spake the fiddler, Folker the minstrel: “I ween these warriors dare not match us. I’ve aye heard the tale, that they bear us hate, and forsooth it might never fortune better for them than now.” Again Folker spake: “Let our steeds be now led away to their lodgings and let us joust again toward eventide, and there be time. Perchance the queen may accord to the Burgundians the prize.”

Then one was seen riding hither so proudly, that none of all the Huns could have done the like. Certes, he must have had a sweetheart on the battlements. As well attired he rode as the bride of any noble knight. At sight of him Folker spake again: “How could I give this over? This ladies’ darling must have a buffet. None shall prevent me and it shall cost him dear. In truth I reck not, if it vex King Etzel’s wife.”

“For my sake, No,” spake straightway King Gunther. “The people will blame us, if we encounter them. ’T will befit us better far, an’ we let the Huns begin the strife.”

King Etzel was still sitting by the queen.

“I’ll join you in the tourney,” quoth Hagen then. “Let the ladies and the knights behold how we can ride. That will be well, for they ’ll give no meed to King Gunther’s men.”

The doughty Folker rode into the lists again, which soon gave many a dame great dole. His spear he


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 wife standing among her turkeys, and making signs to her to come in.

‘I want a girl to wash the dishes and feed the turkeys, and clean out the pig-sty,’ said the woman, ‘and, to judge by your dirty clothes, you would not be too fine for the work.’

The girl accepted her offer with joy, and she was at once set to work in a corner of the kitchen, where all the farm servants came and made fun of her, and the ass’s skin in which she was wrapped. But by-and-by they got so used to the sight of it that it ceased to amuse them, and she worked so hard and so well, that her mistress grew quite fond of her. And she was so clever at keeping sheep and herding turkeys that you would have thought she had done nothing else during her whole life!

One day she was sitting on the banks of a stream bewailing her wretched lot, when she suddenly caught sight of herself in the water. Her hair and part of her face was quite concealed by the ass’s head, which was drawn right over like a hood, and the filthy matted skin covered her whole body. It was the first time she had seen herself as other people saw her, and she was filled with shame at the spectacle. Then she threw off her disguise and jumped into the water, plunging in again and again, till she shone like ivory. When it was time to go back to the farm, she was forced to put on the skin which disguised her, and now seemed more dirty than ever; but, as she did so, she comforted herself with the thought that to-morrow was a holiday, and that she would be able for a few hours to forget that she was a farm girl, and be a princess once more.

So, at break of day, she stamped on the ground, as the fairy had told her, and instantly the dress like the sky lay across her tiny bed. Her room was so small that there was no place for the train of her dress to spread itself out, but she pinned it up carefully when she combed

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text:
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of the Federation as a citizen of Singapore if he satisfies the Government that he—

 * (a) is of good character;

 * (b) has resided in the State throughout the twelve months immediately preceding the date of his application;

 * (c) has during the twelve years immediately preceding the date of his application resided in the State for periods amounting in the aggregate to not less than ten years;

 * (d) intends to reside permanently in the State; and

 * (e) has an elementary knowledge of the national language:

Provided that the Government may exempt an applicant who has attained the age of forty-five years or who is deaf or dumb from compliance with the provisions of paragraph (e) of this clause.

 * (2) Subject to the provisions of this Constitution any woman, not being a citizen of Malaysia, who is married to a citizen of Singapore may, on making application therefor in the prescribed manner, be registered as a citizen of Singapore if she satisfies the Government—

 * (a) that she has resided continuously hi the State for a period of not less than two years immediately preceding the date of the application;

 * (b) that she intends to reside permanently in the State; and

 * (c) that she is of good character.

58. (1) The Government may if satisfied that a child under the age of twenty-one years who is not a citizen of Malaysia—

 * (a) is the child of a citizen of Singapore; and

 * (b) is residing in the State,

cause such child to be registered as a citizen of Singapore on application being made therefor in the prescribed manner by the parent or guardian of such child.

 * (2) The Government may, in such special circumstances as it thinks fit, cause any child under the age of twenty-one years, who is not a citizen of Malaysia, to be registered as a citizen of Singapore.

59. Subject to the provisions of Article 60 of this Constitution a person enrolled or registered as a citizen of Singapore under Article 56, 57 or 58 of this Constitution shall be a citizen of Singapore from the date station on which he is so enrolled or registered.

60. (1) No person shall be registered as a citizen of Singapore under Article 57 of this Constitution until he has taken the oath of allegiance and loyalty in the form prescribed in the Second Schedule to this Constitution.

 * (2) Except with the approval of the Government of the Federation, no person who has renounced or has been deprived of citizenship of Singapore or of citizenship of the Federation of Malaya or of citizenship of Malaysia under this Constitution or the Singapore Citizenship Ordinance, 1957 or the Federal Constitution or the Federation of


text: The Sick-a-Bed Lady/Heart of the City

title: The Sick-a-Bed Lady/Heart of the City


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 across the room to him, and wheeled back against him, close, tight, with her tousled hair grazing his haggard cheek and her brown hands clutching hard at the sweep of his arms along the mantel.

"Adele Reitzen is right," she cried out trium- phantly. "This is my man !"

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 hands still strained at the wooden mantel. The other still bruised the pungent balsam tip between its restive fingers. His young hair was too gray about his temples. His shoulders were too tired with life s pack burdens. His eyes had probably grown more bitter that night than any woman's lips could ever sweeten again. And yet-

Down from the far-away music room floated the quavering, passionate violin wail of the boy who had dared to temporize with Fate. Up from the close- nudging street crashed the confusing slap of hoofs and the mad whir of wheels racing not so much for the Joy of the Destination as for the Thrill of the Journey. She gave a little gasping sob, and Brian Baird stooped forward incredulously, as though from the yellow glare of his camp fire he had only just that instant sensed the faltering footfall of a wayfarer in acute distress, and could scarcely dis tinguish even yet through the darkness the detailed features of the apparition.

For a second, startled eyes defied startled eyes, and then suddenly, out of his own meager ration of faith or fortune or immediate goodness, the man straightened up, and smiled the simple, honest, unquestioning camp-fire smile the smile of food and blanket, the smile of welcome, the smile of shel- ter, the signal of the gladly-shared crust and the Woodland Girl gave a low, wild cry of joy, and ran

title: Page:The Sick-A-Bed Lady.djvu/316


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Rh thrust through the body of the dapper Hun; this both maid and wife were seen thereafter to bewail. Full hard and fast gan Hagen and his liegemen and sixty of his knights ride towards the fiddler, where the play was on. This Etzel and Kriemhild clearly saw. The three kings would not leave their minstrel without a guard amidst the foe. Cunningly a thousand heroes rode; with haughty bearing they did whatso they would. When now the wealthy Hun was slain, men heard his kin cry out and wail. All the courtiers asked: “Who hath done this deed?”

“That the fiddler did, Folker, the valiant minstrel.”

The margrave’s kindred from the Hunnish land called straightway for their swords and shields, and would fain have done Folker to death. Fast the host gan hasten from the windows. Great rout arose from the folk on every side. The kings and their fellowship, the Burgundian men, alighted before the hall and drove their horses to the rear. Then King Etzel came to part the strife. From the hand of a kinsman of the Hun he wrenched a sturdy weapon and drove them all back again, for full great was his wrath. “Why should my courtesie to these knights go all for naught? Had ye slain this minstrel at my court,” spake King Etzel, “’t were evil done. I saw full well how he rode, when he thrust through the Hun, that it happed through stumbling, without any fault of his. Ye must let my guests have peace.”

Thus he became their safe-guard. To the stalls men led away the steeds; many a varlet they had, who served them well with zeal in every service. The host now hied him to his palace with his friends, nor would


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 struction—it was innocence corresponding with innocence. The secretary pities Madame Moiselet and commiserates the prisoner, and, to provoke disclosures, he makes a parade of that extensive morality, which allows of every means of enriching oneself; but Madame was too deep to be duped by such language, and constantly on her guard. At length, after a few days' experience, I was convinced that my agent, in spite of his talent, would draw no profit from his mission. I then resolved to manœuvre in person, and, disguised as a travelling hawker, I began to visit the environs of Livry. I was one of those Jews who deal in every thing,—clothes, jewels, &c. &c.; and I took in exchange gold, silver, jewels, in fact, all that was offered me. An old female robber, who knew the neighbourhood perfectly, accompanied me in my tour: she was the widow of a celebrated thief, Germain Boudier, called Father LatuilLatuile [sic], who, after having undergone half-a-dozen sentences, died at last at Saint PelagieSainte Pélagie [sic]. She had been confined for sixteen years in the prison of Dourdans, where the semblance of modesty and devotion which she assumed had caused her to be called the Nun. No one was a better spy over women, or could easier tempt them by the lures of ornaments and gewgaws. She had what is called the gift of the gab in the highest degree. I flattered myself that Madame Moiselet, seduced by her eloquence, and by our merchandise, would bring out the store of the curé's crowns, some brilliant of the purest water, nay, even the chalice or paten, in case the bargain should be to her liking. My calculation was not verified; the cooper's wife was in no haste to make a bargain, and her coquetry did not get the better of her. Madame Moiselet was the phœnix of women. I admired her, and, as there was no temptation which she did not resist, convinced that I should lose my time by attempting to play any stratagem off upon her, I resolved to try my chance with her husband.

The Jew hawker was soon metamorphosed into a German servant; and under this disguise I began to


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 Suddenly the Girl s memory quickened. Once, long ago, her father had said to her: "Little Daughter, if you are ever in fear and danger by sea or land or city, which is neither sea nor land- turn always to that man, and to that man only, whom you would trust in the deep woods. Put your imagination to work, not your reason. You have no reason!"

Desperately she turned to Peter. His face, robbed utterly of its affection, was all a-shock with outraged social proprieties, merging the merest bit unpleasantly into the racy appreciation of a unique adventure. Panic-stricken, she turned to the Jour- nalist. Already across the Journalist's wine-flushed face the pleasant, friendly smile was souring into worldly skepticism and mocking disillusionment.

She shut her eyes. "O Big Woods, help me!" she prayed. "O Cross Storm, warn me! O Rough Trail, guide me!"

Behind her tightly scrunched lids her worried brain darkened like a jumbled midnight forest. Jaded, bedraggled, aching with storm and terror, she saw herself stumbling into the sudden dazzling splurge of a stranger's camp fire. Was it a man like Peter? Was it the Journalist? She began to shiver. Then her heart gave a queer, queer jump, and she opened her eyes stark wide and searched deep into Brian Baird s livid face. One of his

title: Page:The Sick-A-Bed Lady.djvu/315


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 her beautiful hair and piled it up on the top of her head, as she had always worn it. When she had done, she was so pleased with herself that she determined never to let a chance pass of putting on her splendid clothes, even if she had to wear them in the fields, with no one to admire her but the sheep and turkeys.

Now the farm was a royal farm, and, one holiday, when ‘Donkey Skin’ (as they had nicknamed the princess) had locked the door of her room and clothed herself in her dress of sunshine, the king’s son rode through the gate, and asked if he might come and rest himself a little after hunting. Some food and milk were set before him in the garden, and when he felt rested he got up, and began to explore the house, which was famous throughout the whole kingdom for its age and beauty. He opened one door after the other, admiring the old rooms, when he came to a handle that would not turn. He stooped and peeped through the keyhole to see what was inside, and was greatly astonished at beholding a beautiful girl, clad in a dress so dazzling that he could hardly look at it.

The dark gallery seemed darker than ever as he turned away, but he went back to the kitchen and inquired who slept in the room at the end of the passage. The scullery maid, they told him, whom everybody laughed at, and called ‘Donkey Skin;’ and though he perceived there was some strange mystery about this, he saw quite clearly there was nothing to be gained by asking any more questions. So he rode back to the palace, his head filled with the vision he had seen through the keyhole.

All night long he tossed about, and awoke the next morning in a high fever. The queen, who had no other child, and lived in a state of perpetual anxiety about this one, at once gave him up for lost, and indeed his sudden illness puzzled the greatest doctors, who tried the usual remedies in vain. At last they told the queen that some secret sorrow must be at the bottom of all this, and

title: Page:The Grey Fairy Book.djvu/23


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256 he let any man grow wroth again. Then men set up the tables and bare forth water for the guests. Forsooth the men from the Rhine had there enow of stalwart foes. ’T was long before the lords were seated.

Meanwhile Kriemhild’s fears did trouble her passing sore. She spake: “My lord of Berne, I seek thy counsel, help, and favor, for mine affairs do stand in anxious wise.”

Then Hildebrand, a worshipful knight, made answer to her: “And any slay the Nibelungs for the sake of any hoard, he will do it without my aid. It may well repent him, for they be still unconquered, these doughty and lusty knights.”

Then spake Sir Dietrich in his courteous wise: “Let be this wish, O mighty queen. Thy kinsmen have done me naught of wrong, that I should crave to match these valiant knights in strife. Thy request honoreth thee little, most noble queen, that thou dost plot against the life of thy kinsfolk. They came in hope of friendship to this land. Siegfried will not be avenged by Dietrich’s hand.”

When she found no whit of faithlesaness in the lord of Berne, quickly she promised Bloedel a broad estate, that Nudung owned aforetime. Later he was slain by Hagen, so that he quite forgot the gift. She spake: “Thou must help me, Sir Bloedel, forsooth my foes be in this house, who slew Siegfried, my dear husband. Ever will I serve him, that helpeth me avenge this deed.”

To this Bloedel replied: “My lady, now may ye know that because of Etzel I dare not, in sooth, advise to hatred against them, for he is fain to see thy kins-


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 For a second the Woodland Girl stood staring into his dreadful, chaotic face, then she squared her shoulders and turned to meet the wrathful, con- temptuous surprise in her uncle s and aunt s fea- tures.

"So it was you," sneered the uncle, "embroil- ing our decent household in a common, vulgar in trigue ?"

"So it was you," flamed her aunt, "you who have been posing all these days as an Innocent?"

Frantic with perplexity, muddled with fear, torn by conflicting chivalries, the Woodland Girl stared back and forth from Adele Reitzen's agonized plea to the grim, inscrutable gleam in Brian Baird's eyes. As though every living, moving verb had been ripped out of that night s story, and all the inflexible nouns were printing themselves slam-bang one on top of another Roses, Wine, Music, Silver, Dia- monds, Fir-Balsam telescoped each other in her senses.

"Your father sent you down here," persisted her aunt brutally, "on the private plea to me that he was planning to be married again but I can read ily see that perhaps no one would exactly want you."

The Woodland Girl's heart began to pound.

"We are waiting," prodded her uncle's icy voice.

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text: Page:The Hunterian Oration for 1850.djvu/5


text:
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 ramble about the vicinity of Pontoise, with a design of being apprehended. I sought out the gendarmes, whilst I pretended to avoid them; but they, thinking I wished to get away from them, demanded a sight of my papers. Of course I had none, and they desired me to accompany them to a magistrate, who, knowing nothing of the jargon in which I replied to his questions, desired to know what money I had; and a search was forthwith commenced in his presence. My pockets contained some money and valuables, the possession of which seemed to astonish him. The magistrate, as curious as a commissary, wished to know how they came into my hands; and I sent him to the devil with two or three Teutonic oaths, of the most polished kind; and he, to teach me better manners another time, sent me to prison.

Once more the iron bolts were drawn upon me. At the moment of my arrival, the prisoners were playing in the prison-yard, and the jailor introduced, me amongst them in these terms, "I bring you a murderer of the parts of speech; understand him if you can."

They immediately flocked about me, and I was accosted with salutations of Landsman and Meinheer without end. During this reception, I looked out for the cooper of Livry. I thought he must be a sort of clownish looking tradesman, who, joining in the concert of salutes which were addressed, to me, had called me Landsman in that soft silky tone, which is always acquired by those church rats who are wont to live on the meats of the altar. He was not over fat; but that was constitutional with him, and, his leanness apart, he was glowing with health: he had a narrow forehead, small brown eyes sunk in his head, an enormous mouth, and although, in detailing his characteristics, some of a very sinister kind might be seen, the whole had that gentle air which would tempt the Devil to open the gates of Paradise; besides, to complete the portrait, this personage was at least four or five generations behindhand in costume, a circumstance which, in a country where


text:
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 she threw herself on her knees beside her son’s bed, and implored him to confide his trouble to her. If it was ambition to be king, his father would gladly resign the cares of the crown, and suffer him to reign in his stead; or, if it was love, everything should be sacrificed to get for him the wife he desired, even if she were daughter of a king with whom the country was at war at present!

‘Madam,’ replied the prince, whose weakness would hardly allow him to speak, ‘do not think me so unnatural as to wish to deprive my father of his crown. As long as he lives I shall remain the most faithful of his subjects! And as to the princesses you speak of, I have seen none that I should care for as a wife, though I would always obey your wishes, whatever it might cost me.’

‘Ah! my son,’ cried she, ‘we will do anything in the world to save your life—and ours too, for if you die, we shall die also.’

‘Well, then,’ replied the prince, ‘I will tell you the only thing that will cure me—a cake made by the hand of “Donkey Skin.

‘Donkey Skin?’ exclaimed the queen, who thought her son had gone mad; ‘and who or what is that?’

‘Madam,’ answered one of the attendants present, who had been with the prince at the farm, ‘”Donkey Skin” is, next to the wolf, the most disgusting creature on the face of the earth. She is a girl who wears a black, greasy skin, and lives at your farmer’s as hen-wife.’

‘Never mind,’ said the queen; ‘my son seems to have eaten some of her pastry. It is the whim of a sick man, no doubt; but send at once and let her bake a cake.’

The attendant bowed and ordered a page to ride with the message.

Now it is by no means certain that ‘Donkey Skin’ had not caught a glimpse of the prince, either when his eyes looked through the keyhole, or else from her little window, which was over the road. But whether she had actually seen him or only heard him spoken of, directly she

title: Page:The Grey Fairy Book.djvu/24


text: The Hunterian Oration for 1850

title: The Hunterian Oration for 1850


text:
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Rh men at his court. The king would ne’er forget it of me, and I did them aught of wrong.”

“Not so, Sir Bloedel, for I shall ever be thy friend. Certes, I’ll give thee silver and gold as guerdon and a comely maid, the wife of Nudung, whose lovely body thou mayst fain caress. I’ll give thee his land and all his castles, too, so that thou mayst always live in joy, Sir Knight, if thou dost now win the lands where Nudung dwelt. Faithfully will I keep, whatso I vow to thee to-day.”

When Sir Bloedel heard the guerdon, and that the lady through her beauty would befit him well, he weened to serve the lovely queen in strife. Because of this the champion must needs lose his life. To the queen he spake: “Betake you again to the hall, and before any be aware, I’ll begin a fray and Hagen must atone for what he hath done you. I'll deliver to you King Gunther’s liegeman bound. Now arm you, my men,” spake Bloedel. “We must hasten to the lodgings of the foes, for King Etzel’s wife doth crave of me this service, wherefore we heroes must risk our lives.”

When the queen left Bloedel in lust of battle, she went to table with King Etzel and his men. Evil counsels had she held against the guests. Since the strife could be started in no other wise (Kriemhild’s ancient wrong still lay deep buried in her heart), she bade King Etzel’s son be brought to table. How might a woman ever do more ghastly deed for vengeance’ sake? Four of Etzel’s men went hence anon and bare Ortlieb, the young prince, to the lordings’ table, where Hagen also sat. Because of this the child must needs die through Hagen’s mortal hate.


text: Page:The Hunterian Oration for 1850.djvu/1


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 the tortured mouth, the small chin fairly worn and burrowed away against his vibrant instrument. And the music that burst suddenly forth was like scalding water poured on ice seething with an- guish, shuddering with ecstasy, flame at your heart, frost at your spine.

The Girl began to shiver. "Oh, yes, I know," she whispered. "He plays, of course, as though he knew all sorrows by their first names, but that's Genius, is n't it, not Romance ? He s such a little lad. He can hardly have experienced much really truly emotion as yet beyond a stomach ache or the loss of a Henty book."

"A stomach ache! A Henty book!" cried the Journalist, with a bitter, convulsive sort of mirth. "Well, I'm ready to admit that the boy is scarcely eighteen. But he happens to have lost a wife and a son within the past two months ! While some of us country-born fellows of twenty-eight or thirty were asking our patient girls at home to wait even another year, while we came over to New York and tried our fortunes, this little youngster of scarcely eighteen is already a husband, a father, and a widower.

" He's a Russian Jew you can see that

and one of our big music people picked him up

jabberingly to America. But the invitation did n't

over there a few months ago and brought him

17

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text: Harmonium (Stevens)

title: Harmonium (Stevens)


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 THE dining-room was green, as green could be. Under the or- ange-colored candle-light, the walls, rugs, ceiling, draperies, ferns, glowed verdant, mysterious, intense, like night woods arch- ing round a camp fire. Into this fervid, pastoral verdure the round white table, sparkling with silver, limpid with wine-lights, seemed to roll forth re splendent and incongruous as a huge, tinseled snow ball.

Outside, like fire engines running on velvet wheels, the automobiles went humming along the pavement. Inside, the soft, narrow, ribbony voice of a violin came whimpering through the rose- scented air.

It was the midst of dinner-party time. In the oak-paneled hallway a shadowy, tall clock swallowed gutturally on the verge of striking nine.

The moment was distinctly nervous. The entrée course was late, and the Hostess, gesticulating tragically to her husband, had slipped one chalky

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Page:The Grey Fairy Book.djvu/25

 received the queen’s command, she flung off the dirty skin, washed herself from head to foot, and put on a skirt and bodice of shining silver. Then, locking herself into her room, she took the richest cream, the finest flour, and the freshest eggs on the farm, and set about making her cake.

As she was stirring the mixture in the saucepan a ring that she sometimes wore in secret slipped from her finger and fell into the dough. Perhaps ‘Donkey Skin’ saw it, or perhaps she did not; but, any way, she went on stirring, and soon the cake was ready to be put in the oven. When it was nice and brown she took off her dress and put on her dirty skin, and gave the cake to the page, asking at the same time for news of the prince. But the page turned his head aside, and would not even condescend to answer.

The page rode like the wind, and as soon as he arrived at the palace he snatched up a silver tray and hastened to present the cake to the prince. The sick man began to eat it so fast that the doctors thought he would choke; and, indeed, he very nearly did, for the ring was in one of the bits which he broke off, though he managed to extract it from his mouth without anyone seeing him.

The moment the prince was left alone he drew the ring from under his pillow and kissed it a thousand times. Then he set his mind to find how he was to see the owner—for even he did not dare to confess that he had only beheld ‘Donkey Skin’ through a keyhole, lest they should laugh at this sudden passion. All this worry brought back the fever, which the arrival of the cake had diminished for the time; and the doctors, not knowing what else to say, informed the queen that her son was simply dying of love. The queen, stricken with horror, rushed into the king’s presence with the news, and together they hastened to their son’s bedside.

‘My boy, my dear boy!’ cried the king, ‘who is it you want to marry? We will give her to you for a bride,

title: Page:The Grey Fairy Book.djvu/25


text:
Page:The Nibelungenlied - tr. Shumway - 1909.pdf/316

258 When now the mighty king beheld his son, kindly he spake to the kinsmen of his wife: “Now see, my friends, this is the only son of me and of your sister. This may be of profit to you all, for if he take after his kingmen, he’ll become a valiant man, mighty and noble, strong and fashioned fair. Twelve lands will I give him, and I live yet a while. Thus may the hand of young Ortlieb serve you well. I do therefore beseech you, dear friends of mine, that when ye ride again to your lands upon the Rhine, ye take with you your sister’s son and act full graciously toward the child, and bring him up in honor till he become a man. Hath any done you aught in all these lands, he’ll help you to avenge it, when he groweth up.”

This speech was also heard by Kriemhild, King Etzel’s wife.

“These knights might well trust him,” quoth Hagen, “if he grew to be a man, but the young prince doth seem so fey, that I shall seldom be seen to ride to Ortlieb’s court.”

The king glanced at Hagen, for much the speech did irk him; and though the gentle prince said not a word, it grieved his heart and made him heavy of his mood. Nor was Hagen’s mind now bent on pastime. But all the lordings and the king were hurt by what Hagen had spoken of the child; it vexed them sore, that they were forced to hear it. They wot not the things as yet, which should happen to them through this warrior.


text: User:SnowyCinema/P/The Fraternity and the College (collection)


text: The Nibelungenlied (Shumway)/31

title: The Nibelungenlied (Shumway)/31


text:
Page:The Sick-A-Bed Lady.djvu/284

 Her mouth tightened suddenly, and she lowered her voice with ominous intensity. "But there is n't any heart to, your city no ! there is no .cart at all at the center of things-just a silly, pretty, very much decorated heart-shaped box filled with candy. If you shake it hard enough, it may rattle, but it won't throb. And I hate-hate hate your old city. It's utterly, hopelessly, irremedia- bly jejune, and I m going home to-morrow! "As she leaned toward the Journalist, the gold locket on her prim, high-necked gown swung precipitously forth like a wall picture in a furious little earth- quake.

The Journalist started to laugh, then changed his mind and narrowed his eyes speculatively to- ward something across the room. "heart?" he queried. "No Romance?"

The Woodland Girl followed his exploring gaze. Between the plushy green portieres a dull, cool, rose-colored vista opened forth refreshingly, with a fragment of bookcase, the edge of a stained glass window, the polished gleam of a grand piano, and then lithe, sinuous, willowy, in the shaded lamplight the lone, accentuated figure of a boy violinist. In the amazing mellow glow that smote upon his face, the Woodland Girl noted with a crumple at her heart the tragic droop of the boy's dark head, the sluggish, velvet passion of his eyes,

title: Page:The Sick-A-Bed Lady.djvu/284


text:
Harmonium

 * Harmonium, a book of poems by Wallace Stevens

title: Harmonium


text:
Page:The Hunterian Oration for 1850.djvu/11

not flatter myself that the sentiments I have ventured to advocate in the following pages, will meet with universal approval throughout the profession. If much of what I have advanced, be prospective of the condition of those now entering on their career, I confess my persuasion, that it 1s reserved for the incoming generation to witness the complete redemption of our profession.

The way to a better state of things, lies through the demolition of habits and routine systems which established practitioners can change, but with difficulty. Their more youthful brethren have not this reasonable argument, for persistence in an established, but not less