THE SMITHYING OF SIGFRID'S SWORD. SIGFRID was young, and haughty, and proud, When his father's home he disavowed. In his father's house he would not abide: He met many a knight in wood and field And as he went through a darksome wood, There was iron and steel in right good store; "O smithying-carle, good master of mine, Teach me this forging craft of thine. "Teach me the lore of shield and blade, And how the right good swords are made!" He struck with the hammer a mighty blow, He struck through the wood the echoes rang, And out of the last left iron bar He fashioned a sword that shone as a star. "Now have I smithied a right good sword, And no man shall be my master and lord; "And giants and dragons of wood and field, I shall meet like a hero, under shield." ICHABOD: THE GLORY HAS DEPARTED. Yet oft have I trodden this way ere now, And the gold of the sunshine glowing. I roam by a gloomy Garden-wall; But the gold of the sunshine is shed and gone, And my love in her low grave moulders; And the Mantle of Age on my shoulders. GIANTS AND DWARFS. FROM her father's lofty castle upon the mountain side, The oxen, plough, and peasant to her seemed very small, So she took them in her apron to the castle, one and all. "What have you there, my daughter?" said the giant, turning pale. "Some pretty playthings, papa, that I found down in the vale." Giants and dwarfs ! "Pick up your pretty playthings, my dear, and take them back, Or else some day our larder its stock of food may lack! The dwarfs must plough the valleys, or the valleys grow no wheat; And the giants of the mountains would have then no bread to eat." Giants and dwarfs ! ARMANDO PALACIO VALDÉS. VALDÉS, ARMANDO PALACIO, a Spanish novelist and critic of to-day, is very popular among his countrymen, and several of his best works have been translated into English. His novels are ΕΙ Senorito Octavio;" "Marta y María" (translated with the title "Marquis of Peñalta" in 1886); "El Idilio de un Enfermo " ("Invalid "); "Aguas Fuertas" ("Strong Waters"-stories and sketches); "José;"" Riverita; ""Maximina" (translated in 1888 a sequel to "Riverita "); "El Cuarto Poder" ("The Fourth Estate "); "La Hermana San Sulpicio" ("Sister St. Sulpice "— translated in 1890); and "Espuma" ("Froth"). The critical works of Valdés are "Los Oradores del Ateneo ; "Los Novelistas Españoles;" "Neuve Viaje al Parnaso;" and "La Literatura en 1881" (in collaboration). MARIA'S WAY TO PERFECTION. (From "Marta y María.") ONE evening, after the retirement of the family and servants, mistress and maid were together in Maria's boudoir up in the tower. Maria was reading by the light of the polished metal astral lamp, while Genoveva was sitting in another chair in front of her, knitting a stocking. They would often pass an hour or two thus before going to bed, the señorita having been long accustomed to read to the small hours of the morning. She did not seem so much occupied as usual with her reading; but would frequently put the book on the table and remain pensive for a while, her cheek resting on her hand. She would take it up in a hesitating way, but only presently to lay it down again. It was evident too by the creaking chair, as she often changed position, that she was nervous. From time to time she would fix upon Genoveva a long gaze, that seemed to betray a timid and uneasy desire, and a certain inward conflict with some thought striving for utterance. On the other hand, Genoveva, that evening, was more engrossed than usual with her stocking; weaving in among its meshes, no doubt, a multitude of more or less philosophical considerations that made it desirable for her to give convulsive nods every now and then, very much as when one is going to sleep. At last the señorita concluded to break the silence. "Genoveva, will you read for me this passage from the life of St. Isabel?" she asked, handing her the book. "With all the pleasure in the world, señorita." "See, begin here where it says: When her husband-"" Genoveva commenced to read the paragraph to herself, but Maria quickly interrupted her with [Thereupon the maid reads a passage of some twenty lines, in the characteristic pious and mystical style of the Bollandist Lives of the Saints. The gist of it is that the young and lovely princess and saint, Isabel, would pass her nights and days in the practice of the most austere penances. Of these the wearing a hair-cloth shirt, and having herself scourged with the discipline by her damsels, were a portion.] "That will do: you need not read any further. What do you think of it?" "I have often read the identical story before." "Yes, so you have. But-now what would you think of my trying to do something of the same kind?" she burst forth, with the impetuosity of one who has decided to give utterance to a thought with which she has long been preoccupied. Genoveva stared at her with wide-open eyes, not taking in her meaning. "Do you not understand?" "No, señorita." Maria arose, and throwing her arms around her neck, with face aflame with blushes, whispered close in her ear: "I mean, you silly thing, that if you would consent to do the office of those damsels of St. Isabel to-night, I for my part would imitate the saint." "What office?" "Oh, you stupid, stupid thing? I mean that of giving me a few lashes, in commemoration of those that our dear Savior received, and all the saints as well, patterning themselves after him." "What are you saying, señorita? What put such a thing in your head?" "I have thought of it because I wish to mortify my flesh, and humiliate myself, at one and the same time. That is true penance, and the kind that is most pleasing in the eyes of God, for the reason that he himself suffered it for us. I have tried to perform it unaided, but I have not been able to; and besides, it is not so effective a humiliation as receiving it from the hands of another. Now you will be so obliging as to gratify this desire of mine, wont you ?" "No, señorita, not for anything. I cannot do it." "Why won't you, silly thing? Don't you see that it is for my good? If I should fail to deliver myself from some days of purgatory because you would not do what I ask you, would you not be troubled with remorse?" "But, my heart's dove, how could I make up my mind to maltreat you, even if it were for your soul's good?" "There is no way for you to get out of it: it is a vow I have made, and I must fulfil it. You have aided me till now on my way to virtue do not abandon me at the most critical moment You will not, Genoveva dear; say you will not." "For God's sake, señorita, do not make me do this!" "Do, do, dearest Genoveva, I beg of you by the love that you bear me." "No, no, do not ask it of me: I cannot." "Please do, darling! Oh, grant me this favor. You don't know how I shall feel if you don't; I shall think that you have ceased to love me." Maria exhausted all her resources of invention and coaxing to persuade her. Seating herself on Genoveva's lap, she lavished upon her caresses and words of affection; at one moment vexed, at another imploring, and all the time fixing upon her a pair of wheedling eyes, which it seemed impossible to resist. She was like a child begging for a toy that is kept back from her. When she saw that her serving-maid was a little softened, or rather was fatigued with persistent refusing, —she said with a taking volubility: "Now, truly, stupid, don't you go and make it a thing of such great importance. It is n't half as bad as a bad toothache, and you know I've suffered from that pretty often. Your imagination makes you think it is something terrible, when really it is searcely worth mentioning. You think so just because it is n't |