with this pledge of their eternal union. Opposite to the royal pair, in the pulpit, was the venerable Plato, the patriarch of Moscow, who, in a discourse at once pathetic and sublime, recalled to the youthful mind of Alexander the great duties annexed to royalty, and the awful responsibility imposed upon his elevated station, in return for the pomp that environed it and the power with which it was invested. Amidst the assemblage of nations which thronged the cathedral, he pointed out to him the hunters of Kamschatka, bringing tributes of skins; the merchants of Archangel, loaded with rich commodities which their vessels had brought from every quarter of the globe; the Samoyeds, a rude and unpolished people, who came from a country condemned to the rigors of an eternal winter, where the beauteous flower of the spring and the rich produce of harvest are alike unknown; and the natives of Astracan, whose fertile fields yield melons, figs, and grapes; he showed him, lastly, the inhabitants of the shores of the Black and Caspian Seas, and of the great Tartary, which, bounded by Persia, China, and the Empire of the Moguls, extending from the extremity of the western hemisphere to that of the east, takes in nearly half the globe. Sovereign of the most extensive empire of the earth," said he, "you, who are this day to take the awful oath of presiding over the destinies of a state which includes a fifth part of the known world, bear it ever in remembrance that you have to answer at the tribunal of Divine Justice for the fate of millions of your fellowcreatures, and that an injustice done to the meanest among them must be accounted for at the final day.'

The young emperor at these words was sensibly affected; but there was one among the auditors whose heart was not less affected than his, a suppliant who had come to solicit a father's pardon.

At the moment when Alexander began to pronounce the solemn oath which was to bind him to devote his future life to the happiness of his people, the enraptured Elizabeth imagined she heard the voice of mercy requiring him to break the chains of every unfortunate being within his dominions. Unable any longer to command her feelings, and aided by a supernatural strength, she pierced the crowd, and, forcing a passage through the lines

of the soldiers, rushed towards the throne, exclaiming: "Mercy! mercy!"

This outcry created a commotion in the cathedral; the guards advanced, and, notwithstanding her entreaties, and the efforts of Jaques, dragged her out of the church. The Emperor, however, would not on so glorious a day be invocated in vain. He ordered one of the officers of his suite to inquire what it was that the petitioner wanted. The officer quitted the church in haste, and heard the imploring accents of the suppliant, still endeavoring to prevail with the soldiers to allow her to return. He started, and, recognizing the daughter of the exile, exclaimed: It is she, it is Elizabeth!"

He

Elizabeth turned; she could scarcely believe that it was Smoloff. Yet she could not be mistaken, and she stretched her arms towards him as to a messenger sent from Heaven to her relief. rushed forward, seized her hand, and in his turn began to doubt the testimony of his senses. Elizabeth," he exclaimed, “is it indeed you, or do I behold a vision from heaven? Speak, whence do you come?” "From Tobolsk.'

"From Tobolsk ! and have you travelled hither, alone, and on foot?

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"Yes," she exclaimed, "I came to entreat pardon for my father, and they force me from the presence of the Emperor.

"I will reconduct you to his presence, interrupted the transported Smoloff; "I will present you to him; he will not resist your supplications; your prayer will be granted."

Elizabeth raised her clasped hands towards heaven, repeating the last words: "Forgiveness for my father!"

A clamor of admiration arose from among the crowd. The Emperor himself joined in it, and deeply rooted as his prejudices had been against Stanislaus Potowsky, in an instant they were totally effaced. He could not hesitate to believe that the father of a daughter so virtuous must be innocent of the crimes alleged against him; but, had it been otherwise, Alexander would not have withheld forgiveness.

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"The pardon is granted," said he; 'your father is free."

Elizabeth heard no more; at the word pardon, joy overpowered her, and she fell senseless into the arms of Smoloff. In this state she was carried through the

she rushed forward; but the violence of her feelings obliged her to stop. Alas! behold the state of human nature! we seek for happiness in excess of joy; which excess, more violent in its effects than that of misery, we are not able to bear. Elizabeth, leaning on the arm of Smoloff, faintly uttered: "If I should find my mother ill!"

The fear of such a calamity checked the happiness which had overwhelmed her, and recovered all her strength. She reaches the threshold, hears the sound of well-known voices, and calls to her mother in an ecstacy which almost deprives her of sense. The door was opened and her father appeared. At the cry he uttered her mother rushed out, and Elizabeth, unable to support herself, fell into their extended arms. Behold your daughter!" exclaimed Smoloff; she is the bearer of your pardon; she has triumphed over every obstacle, and has attained from the generosity of the Emperor even more than she had expected."

These words added not to the joy of the delighted parents; every sensation was absorbed in that all-powerful one of happiness in again beholding their child. She was restored; and this was to them the greatest blessing on earth. Long they remained in a delirium of joy. A few unconnected sentences escaped from their lips, but they knew not what they uttered. In vain did they seek for words to express the feelings that overpowered them; by tears and looks only could they make themselves understood; and their strength, as well as their reason, began to fail under excess of joy.

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Smoloff prostrated himself at the feet of Stanislaus and Phedora. 'Oh," he exclaimed, “condescend, in this moment of your bliss, to regard me also as your child. Hitherto Elizabeth has condescended to distinguish me by the affectionate name of brother; but now, perhaps, she will permit me to aspire to a title still more endearing.

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Elizabeth seized a hand of each of her parents; and, regarding them with looks of the tenderest affection, she thus spoke: 'Without the aid of M. de Smoloff I should not perhaps have been here. It was he who conducted me into the presence of the Emperor, who advocated my cause, who solicited your forgiveness, and who obtained it. It is he who has been

so zealously instrumental in restoring you to your rights, and who has reconducted me to the bosom of my beloved parents. O my mother, instruct me how to convince him of my gratitude! teach me, my father, how to requite it!"

Phedora, embracing her daughter, answered: You must convince him of your gratitude by bestowing upon him your love: a love like that which you have seen me bear to your father.

Stanislaus, interrupting her, exclaimed. in an accent of enthusiasm: "O! my Phedora, who can appreciate the gift of a heart like thine! It is above all value. But, on such an occasion as this, the generosity of Elizabeth cannot be too great.

Elizabeth uniting the hand of Smoloff with the hands of her parents, said to him, with a look of fascinating innocence and with modest timidity: "Will you promise me-never to leave them?"

Elizabeth is restored to her parents; by them she is conducted into Poland, the place of her nativity, and reinstated in the exalted rank occupied by her ancestors; by them she is united to the man she loves to the man whom they esteem worthy of her.

FATE.

Two shall be born, the whole wide world apart, And speak in different tongues, and have no thought

Each of the other's being, and no heed;
And these o'er unknown seas to unknown

lands

Shall cross, escaping wreck, defying death;
And all unconsciously shape every act
And bend each wandering step to this one

end

That one day, out of darkness they shall meet
And read life's meaning in each other's eyes.
And two shall walk some narrow way of life,
Ever so little space to left or right,
So nearly side by side that should one turn

They must needs acknowledge face to face;
And yet with wistful eyes that never meet,
With groping hands that never clasp, and lips
Calling in vain to ears that never hear,
They seek each other all their weary days,
And die unsatisfied-and this is Fate.

SUSAN M. SPAULDING.

SPRING AND WOMAN.

[Walther von der Vogelweide, the most distinguished of all German Minnesingers, was according to the investigations of Pfeiffer, Haller and Zingerle, born in the year 1168, in the Vogelweiderhof, of Tyrol. As a poor minstrel he travelled from court to court and visited many countries and cities. He accompanied his Emperor, Frederick II., in the year 1228, to the Holy Land, and being a powerful satirist, he assisted him effectually in his quarrels with the Pope. He died about 1230.]

When from the sod the flowerets spring,
And smile to meet the sun's bright ray,
When birds their sweetest carols sing,

In all the morning pride of May,
What lovelier than the prospect there?
Can earth boast anything so fair?
To me it seems an almost heaven,
So bounteous to my eyes that vision

bright is given.

But when a lady chaste and fair,

Noble and clad in rich attire, Walks through the throng with gracious air, As sun that bids the stars retire,Then, where are all thy boastings, May? What hast thou beautiful and gay, Compared with that supreme delight? We leave thy loveliest flowers, and

watch that lady bright.

Wouldst thou believe me,-come and place
Before thee all this pride of May;
Then look but on my lady's face,

And which is best and brightest say:
For me, how soon (if choice were mine)
This would I take, and that resign,
And say, "Though sweet thy beauties, May,
I'd rather forfeit all than lose my lady gay!"
Translated by E. TAYLOR.

The news from heaven-the tidings of great joy.

From town to town-through all the villages-
With trusty guidance roamed the aged saint
And preached the word with all the fire of
youth.

One day his boy had led him to a vale
That lay all thickly sowed with mighty rocks.
In mischief more than malice spake the boy:
"Most reverend father! there are many men
Assembled here, who wait to hear thy voice!"
The blind old man, so bowed, straightway

rose up,

Chose him his text, expounded, then applied; Exhorted, warned, rebuked, and comforted, So fervently, that soon the gushing tears Streamed thick and fast down to his hoary beard.

When, at the close, as seemeth always meet, He prayed "Our Father," and pronounced aloud,

"Thine is the kingdom and the power, thine The glory now and through eternity"At once there rang through all that echoing vale A sound of many thousand voices crying, "Amen! most reverend Sir, amen! amen!"

Trembling with terror and remorse, the boy

Knelt down before the saint and owned the sin. "Son," said the old man, "hast thou then

ne'er read,

'When men are dumb, the stones shall cry aloud?'

Henceforward mock not, son, the word of
God!

Living it is, and mighty, cutting sharp
Like a two-edged sword. And when the heart
Of flesh grows hard, and stubborn as the stone,
A heart of flesh shall stir in stones them-
selves!"

Translated by C. T. BROOKS.

THE AMEN OF THE STONES.

[Ludwig Theobul Kosegarten, born February 1st, 1758, at Grevismuhlen, in Mecklenburg, was appointed professor of history in 1807 at Greifswald, where he died October 26th, 1818. He wrote epics, idyls, lyrics, legends, and novels.]

Blind with old age, the venerable Bede Ceased not, for that, to preach and publish forth

THE SONG OF THE ROMAN LEGIONS.

[Felix Dahn, born February 9th, 1834, at Hamburg, is now professor at the University of Königsberg. Besides some historical novels and dramas, he wrote

Zavoelf Balladen (Leipzig, 1875); Gedichte (Berlin, 1857), etc.]