Chapter 5

In his cell the knight is lying, naked, fettered foot and hand; Bound unto the rocky ground with many an iron link and band; On him lie the piles of granite, pressing, pressing; yet he still Looks on death with lofty eye--so giant is his mighty will.

Day by day, he lay and suffered, wrung with agony, but content-- Day by day, though hard to bear was his grievous punishment-- Never once, though, hour on hour, they piled the jagged granite higher On his quivering limbs, he murmured; yet his very veins were fire.

Once, however, came his jailer, saying that his nephew sought His presence; and the knight, consenting, in his brother's son was brought: "Uncle Roland," quoth he, weeping, "what is this that I have done? Curses, curses on my head! curse, uncle, curse thy brother's son!

Mine the tongue that wrought this evil--mine the false and slanderous tongue That done to death the Lady Gwineth--O! my soul is sadly wrung!" "Demon, devil!" groaned the warrior--"devil of the evil eye! Look upon the awful horror wrought by thy atrocious lie.

Tell me? was it all a falsehood? Tell me, was it all--all--all? Speak! and let these prison walls, oppressed with horror, on thee fall!" "All was false! Mine, too the ambush; for I sought to grasp thy lands-- Sought to win the Lady Gwineth, with thy blood upon my hands.

But she drove me forth with scorn; and then I coined the lying tale-- O! forgive me, Uncle Roland! give me leave to weep and wail; Give me leave to sit in sackcloth, heaping ashes on my head; Mourning in some craggy cavern for the early lost and dead."

"Unexampled liar and traitor! first of all our noble name Guilty of so black a treason! first to stain our shield with shame! Hence! away! I--No! repent! begone! and pray for my repose: Life on both of us too soon for our grievous crimes will close.

I forgive thee--now away--nay, do not touch me! I am wan-- Sick with suffering--mad with anguish--Go!" The penitent man is gone. --Once again he lies alone, save his agony, alone; Then they come and pile upon him heavier weights of iron and stone.

Still more pallid, at the even, Roland in his anguish lay, Wrestling, for his soul was strong, with his body's slow decay; And the sweat upon his forehead stood and rolled and fell like rain, Cold, while pain and fire and fever battled in his heart and brain.

Now and then his senses wandered; now again his mind was calm, And he wrung from out his suffering penitential draughts of balm; Then again his senses left him, and he lay in phrenzy there, Talking wildly in his madness with the dim, impalpable air.

Now, he saw the Lady Gwineth wandering in her maiden joy; Now, he viewed her in her chamber frolic with her baby boy; Now, he saw her sadly lying, all her bosom bathed with blood; And beheld himself as o'er her on that fatal night he stood.

Was he dreaming? through his dungeon stole a pale purpureal light, Flowing round him, floating round him, making daylight of its night; In its midst, his gentle Gwineth, while around her brow there flowed, Fluttering flame, a golden halo! that with heavenly glory glowed.

Did he hear her? Was it real? With an angel's voice she spoke: How the words, like flakes of music, silver music! sweetly broke, Round and round him! how they floated, ringing in his ravished ears, Like the notes of Memnon's lyre, or chantings from the distant spheres!

"Coming, Roland, from that heaven where, though clad with light, I sigh And languish for the softer lustre of thy gentle loving eye, I await thee, singing, singing hymns to cheer thy dying hour That the Cherubim sang in Eden when it first arose in flower.

Hearken! how my notes are mingling--one by one, and two by two, Dropping on thy brain as falls on fading roses freshening dew; Three by three, they upward circle: thou hast heard them in thy dreams, When I came, a missioned spirit, from the four eternal streams.

I can see them, though thine eyes can only compass earthly vision: Soon, O, Roland! soon, O, Roland! thou shalt see with eyes elysian: Then the notes that now thou hearest thou shalt see, as on they flow,-- Angels that are rarest air! and view them through their dances go."

Still, entranced, the sufferer listened; and it seemed as from his pain Sweeter music yet was born, for holier hymning lulled his brain; Very wild his agony; very; but between its bars his eyes Saw the angels as they wandered on the walls of Paradise.

Faint and fainter grew he, while the melody loud and louder rang, Till it seemed not only Gwineth but a myriad angels sang; And his soul seemed rising, rising, rising from his pallid clay, Which, each moment, grew more feeble--faintlier wrestling with decay.

Burst upon his ears one swell! it seemed an anthem of the spheres, Jubilant, divinely ringing; swam his eyes with happy tears-- "Come, forgiven one," the cadence, "chastened spirit, come, arise From thine earthly prison-house to holy homes beyond the skies."

Fainter, fainter, still more feeble, grew the sufferer as he heard, And a sigh swooned on the silence, soft as breathing of a bird,-- And all was over. In his trance his spirit's sparkling feet had trod The realms of space, and gone from earth, through air, to judgment and to God.

NOTES.

The judgment of the _peine forte et dure_, on an instance of which our ballad is founded, was well known in the ancient law of England. As has been seen, it was terribly severe. The circumstances of the judgment were as follows: When a prisoner stood charged with an offence, and an indictment had been found against him, before he could be tried he was called upon to answer, or, in technical parlance, to plead. A plea in bar is an answer, either affirming or denying the offence charged in the indictment, or, if of a dilatory character, showing some ground why the defendant should not be called upon to answer at all. In those days, in all capital cases, the estates of the criminal, on conviction and judgment, were forfeited to the crown. The blood of the offender was considered as corrupted, and, as a consequence, his property could not pass to his family, who, although innocent, suffered for the faults of the criminal. Crimes, therefore, where the punishment fell, not only on the criminal but on his family, were comparatively of rare occurrence. An admission of guilt produced the same effect as a conviction. If the defendant, however, stood mute, obstinately refusing to answer, by which behaviour he preserved his estates to his family, he was sentenced to undergo the judgment of the _peine forte et dure_.

"The English judgment of penance for standing mute," says Chief Justice Blackstone, in his admirable Commentaries, "was as follows: That the prisoner be remanded to the prison from whence he came, and put into a low, dark chamber; and there be laid on his back, naked, unless where decency forbids: that there be placed upon his body as great a weight of iron as he could bear and more; that he have no sustenance, save only on the first day, three morsels of the worst bread; and, on the second day, three draughts of standing water, that should be nearest to the prison door; and in this situation this should be alternately his daily diet _till he died_, or (as anciently the judgement ran) _till he answered_."

With respect to this horrid judgment, Christian, in his notes to the same work, goes on to say: that "the prosecutor and the court could exercise no discretion, or show no favour to a prisoner who stood obstinately mute." "In the legal history of this country," (England,) he continues, "are numerous instances of persons who have had resolution and patience to undergo so terrible a death in order to benefit their heirs by preventing a forfeiture of their estates, which would have been a consequence of a conviction by a verdict. There is a memorable story of an ancestor of an ancient family in the north of England. In a fit of jealousy he killed his wife; and put to death his children who were at home, by throwing them from the battlements of his castle; and proceeding with an intent to destroy his only remaining child, an infant nursed at a farm-house at some distance, he was intercepted by a storm of thunder and lightning. This awakened in his breast compunction of conscience. He desisted from his purpose, and having surrendered himself to justice, in order to secure his estates to this child, he had the resolution to die under the dreadful judgment of the _peine forte et dure_." This tale is the base of our romance.

THE SEA NYMPH'S SONG.

BY WILLIAM H. C. HOSMER.

Sound is he sleeping Far under the wave-- Sea nymphs are keeping A watch for the brave: Deep was our grief and wild-- Wilder our dirge When the doomed ocean child Drowned in the surge.

Within a bright chamber His form we have laid; With spar, pearl and amber The walls are arrayed-- Though high rolls the billow He wakes not at morn, And sponge for his pillow From rocks we have torn.

I heard thy name spoken When down came the mast; His hold was then broken, That _word_ was his last. A picture is lying, Lorn maid! on his breast-- That picture in dying His hand closely prest.

Why turns thy cheek paler These tidings to know? The truth of thy sailor Should lessen thy wo: The wave could not chill it That stifled his breath; Pure _love_--can aught kill it? Give answer, Oh, Death!

THE LITTLE GOLD-FISH.

A FAIRY TALE.

BY JAMES K. PAULDING, AUTHOR OF THE "DUTCHMAN'S FIRESIDE," ETC.

In the reign of good King Doddipol, surnamed the Gnatsnapper, there lived in a stately castle, on the top of a high mountain, a rich old Norseman, who had an only son whom he loved with great ardor, and little discretion, on account of his being the last of an illustrious family. The youth was called Violet, partly because he had for his godmother the Fairy Violetta, and partly on account of having on his left shoulder an impression of that flower, so perfectly defined, and so vivid in color, that the old nurse mistook it at first sight for a real violet, and declared it smelled like a nosegay.

Being the only son of a great and rich nobleman, as well as somewhat indolent and unambitious, Violet passed much of his time, while growing up to manhood, in thinking much and doing nothing. He was without companions, having no equals around him, and was prohibited from associating with his inferiors by the strict etiquette which prevailed throughout the dominions of good King Doddipol. As he grew up thus in almost entire solitude his temperament became highly poetical and imaginative, his feelings irregular and ardent, and it was predicted that some day or other he would become a martyr to love.

Much of his time was spent in lonely rambles among the mountains which surrounded the residence of the Old Man of the Hills, as he was called, a distance of many miles in every direction, and one summer day, wandering on without knowing or caring whither he went, he at length found himself in a region where he had never been before. It was a deep, sequestered, rocky dell, shaded by gloomy pines, from the farther extremity of which there tumbled a bright cascade of snow-white foam, which, after forming a deep transparent basin at its foot, escaped murmuring among the rocks below and disappeared. Not a sound was heard but that of the falling waters and the gurgling stream, for the birds delight not in the gloom of perpetual shade, and neither hunter nor woodman ever visited this lonely retreat.

Tired with his long ramble, Violet sat down at the foot of a lofty tree, whose roots seemed to drink of the crystal basin, and fell into a deep reverie, during which his eyes were fixed unconsciously on the transparent water, which, though clear as our northern lakes, was so deep that no one could see the bottom. While thus occupied in weaving webs of youthful anticipation, he saw a little gold-fish suddenly dart from under the rock on which he was seated, and play around with infinite grace, quivering its fins and fanning its tail, while their bright colors glittered in the rippling water with indescribable brilliancy.

The youth watched its motions with increasing interest, and an eagerness he had never experienced before. Sometimes it would come up close to the spot, almost within reach of his hand, and after balancing on the surface awhile, again dart away, only to return and play a thousand fantastic gambols, full of vivacity and grace. At other times it would remain stationary awhile, looking him in the face with its mellow, melancholy eyes, and an expression of sorrowful tenderness that sunk into his heart. He remained watching its motions in deep solicitude, until the gathering shadows of twilight warned him away, and reached home so late that he found his father anxiously awaiting his return. The Old Man of the Hills inquired of him where he had been, and what had detained him so long; but he answered evasively, being ashamed to confess he had been fascinated by a little gold-fish.

That night he could think of nothing but the little gold-fish, and when at length sleep came over his eyelids, he dreamed it was a beautiful princess, transformed by the power of some wicked enchanter or malignant fairy. The impression was so vivid in his mind, that when he awoke he could not decide whether it was indeed a dream, or whether he had not actually seen the charming princess, whose features were indelibly impressed on his memory. The next morning he again sought the path he had traveled the day before, and about mid-day arrived at the glen of the shining cascade. He had scarcely seated himself, when the little gold-fish darted from under the rock as before, and winning its way to the surface of the crystal basin, looked at him with an expression of its beautiful eyes that spoke a joyful welcome. Violet put forth his hand, and tried to woo it still nearer, but it only gave a melancholy shake of the head, and when he attempted to seize it, retired beyond his reach with a lingering hesitation that seemed to indicate a mingled desire and apprehension.

Thus the little creature continued to coquette with him for several days during which he repeated his visits, staying all day, and dreaming every night the same dream of the beautiful princess changed into a little gold-fish. While absent from the crystal basin, his imagination was forever dwelling on the form and features of the princess, and the mysterious connection he was convinced subsisted between his waking thoughts and experience and his nightly dreams. By degrees the two became inseparably associated together in his mind, and insensibly he fell in love to distraction, but whether with the beautiful princess or the little gold-fish he could not decide. He became so melancholy in consequence that the latter, as if conscious of his feelings, permitted him to take it in his hand, kiss it, and nestle it in his bosom at pleasure. At such times he would beseech it in the most moving terms to speak to him, tell him if his dreams were true, and respond to his devoted affection. But it only replied by a silent tear, and a look of strange meaning, which he could not comprehend.

Violet grew every day more sad, and his youthful form continued to waste away, so that as he walked in the sun, his shadow could scarcely be seen. During this period the behavior of the little gold-fish was so full of inconsistencies and contradictions that Violet was well nigh distracted. Sometimes it would contemplate his pale cheek and wasted form with tears in its eyes, while at the next moment it looked at him with an expression of unfeeling triumph. Then its eyes would glance rapidly and eagerly, sometimes toward himself, at others down on the crystal basin, and at others upward to the skies.

One bright morning, when the position of the sun toward the east had become gradually changed, and the beams of the former fell directly upon the crystal basin, Violet was sitting, as usual, fondling the little gold-fish in his hand, admiring its soft hazel eyes, and addressing a thousand endearments to the little dumb creature, which at that moment appeared insensible to his affection. Keeping its eyes earnestly fixed on the transparent waters, which now glittered in the golden beams of the sun, the youth suddenly felt it tremble as if with ecstasy in his hand, as with a sudden spring it vaulted into the basin and instantly disappeared. He gazed with intense anxiety, expecting every moment it would reappear; but it returned no more, and after waiting in vain, until dusky twilight enveloped the glen in shadows, he bent his way homeward, scarcely conscious whither he was going. That night he slept from the mere weariness of sorrow, and dreamed the beautiful princess appeared to thank and bless him for her disenchantment.

The next day the Old Man of the Hills called his son before him, and announced with great satisfaction that he had just concluded a treaty of marriage between him and the oldest daughter of King Doddipol, a lady of great discretion, and old enough to be his mother. The young man quitted the presence of his father in despair, and, scarcely conscious of whither he was wandering, sought the crystal basin at the foot of the shining cascade. Here, seated on the rock, he gazed himself almost blind, in the hope of seeing the little gold-fish once more appear, to receive his last farewell. But he gazed in vain for hours, and hours, until in the bitterness of disappointment he at length cried out aloud--"It is all in vain. It will come no more, and nothing is now left me but a remembrance carrying with it eternal regrets. But one hope remains. I will seek my adored princess, for such I know she is, where she disappeared from my sight, and either find her or a grave." Saying this he plunged into the basin in an agony of despair.

He continued to sink, as it appeared to him, for nearly half an hour, without once drawing his breath, until, just as he felt himself quite exhausted, he found himself precipitated into what seemed a new world, far more beautiful than that he had just abandoned. The skies were of a deeper blue, and being likewise far more transparent, reflected the features of the lower world as in a vast illimitable mirror. There was no sun visible in the heavens. Yet a soft, delicious mellow light, more rich and yet more gentle than that of summer twilight, diffused itself everywhere, giving to every object the charm of distance, and giving to the air a genial warmth inexpressibly grateful. The meadows seemed like endless waving seas of verdure, and together with the foliage of the woods, exhibited all the freshness of the new-born spring; the little warbling birds seemed to revel among the groves and verdant meads in joyous luxury, filling the air with their melodious concert; the meadows were sprinkled with beds of flowers of various hues and fragrance, and a thousand delicious odors gave zest to every breath he drew. Vast fields of violets, most especially, were spread out in every direction, larger and more beautiful than any he had ever seen before. A gentle river meandered deep and clear through a long valley spread out before him, skirted on either side by pale blue hills, so high they seemed to reach and mingle with the heavens above. A cool, refreshing zephyr played about his brow, and as he breathed its inspiring odors, Violet felt himself suddenly restored to all his wonted vigor and activity.

As he stood gazing in almost stupefied wonder at the scene before him, and doubtful whether it was merely a creation of his bewildered fancy, he perceived a radiant female form approaching, seated in a chariot formed of a single violet, and crowned with a diadem of the same flowers. Her dress, too, was composed of many-colored violets, and her chariot drawn by butterflies, whose wings of gold and purple were of glorious lustre. The chariot stood still on coming up to the youth; the lady springing out, lighted on the flowers without ruffling their leaves, and giving him her tiny hand addressed him as follows:

"Welcome, Prince Violet, for such you are by birth, and by my creation. I was the friend of your mother. I presided at your birth, and I gave you your name. I therefore feel in some measure responsible for your happiness, and am come hither to give you the benefit of my advice and assistance. Know, my prince, that you are brought here by a destiny you could not avoid. You are in the dominions, I might almost say in the power of the wicked enchanter Curmudgeon, who is as potent as he is wicked. Among his other diabolical acts, he is an adept in the new science of animal magnetism, can put you to sleep by the waving of his hand, pull out your teeth without your knowing any thing about it, and divorce your spirit from your body, sending it wandering away to distant regions, while the body remains unconscious though not inanimate. In short, there is no end to his wicked devices, and he is the most mischievous, malignant monster in the world, inexorable in his revenge, and clothed with the power of gratifying it to its utmost extent. It is to warn you against him that I am here. My name is Violetta."

The prince, as he must now be called, listened to this speech with great gravity and decorum, though he thought it rather long, and replied with infinite discretion. He thanked the fairy for her kind intentions, and concluded by observing that he had often, when a child, heard his mother speak of the Fairy Violetta with great affection.

"Your mother was a woman of taste," said the fairy, "but there is not a moment to be lost, for the enchanter is by this time apprized of your coming, and the purport of your visit. Do not ask me what that is. It is sufficient that you are here to fulfill your destiny."

The fairy then stamped three times with her little foot on a bed of violets. At the first stamp there rose out of the ground a superb suit of violet-colored armor; at the second a sword and spear; and at the third a gallant violet-colored steed richly caparisoned.

"Take these, arm thyself, mount, and away. You will meet with many obstacles in your course, but you have nothing to fear so long as you fear nothing. Your first enemy will be a little mischievous caitiff, called Master Whipswitchem, a creature of the wicked enchanter; your second a monstrous giant; your third a beautiful spectre, and your fourth the enchanter himself. The first you must circumvent by your wit; the second by your valor; the third by your self-command; and the fourth by your promptitude and sagacity. There is no magic in your weapons, though they are equally good and true. Your dependence must be on yourself alone; on your valor, your constancy, and your cause; and remember, that should you ever turn your back on an enemy, whether man, beast, or fiend, your happy destiny will never be accomplished. You will never see your little gold-fish again.

"My little gold-fish!" exclaimed the prince eagerly--"What dost thou mean? O tell me, most beneficent fairy!"

"You will know in good time, if you do not turn recreant," answered the fairy, with a significant smile. "But away, away, my prince. Mount and away. Follow the course of the river, and once more, never turn aside let what will be before you, remembering that nothing is impossible to courage, conduct, and perseverance in a good cause."

The prince bowed himself before the lady, repeated his grateful thanks, mounted his neighing steed, which pawed the ground impatiently, and was about clapping spurs to his sides, when the fairy suddenly stopped him.

"Hold, prince! I had almost forgotten. Take this bouquet of violets, place it in your bosom, and guard it well. But be careful not to draw it forth except in the last extremity, depending always on your valor and your sword. When your life shall hang suspended by a single hair; when the last breath is quivering on thy lips, and all other means fail, then, and not till then, use it as your instinct may direct. Adieu, my prince--be faithful, bold and fortunate."

The fairy mounted her chariot, the butterflies spread their gorgeous wings, and ascending rapidly through the transparent skies the whole pageant disappeared. The prince lost not a moment in pursuing the course pointed out by the fairy, and as he proceeded, gradually fell into a reverie, the subject of which was the hint that it would depend on himself whether he ever saw the little gold-fish again. The thought roused him to the utmost height of daring, and he resolved, come what might, nothing should be wanting on his part to the accomplishment of a glorious and happy destiny. He fell himself suddenly animated by this determination to gain a noble prize by noble exertions, for nothing is more certain than that none but groveling, abject beings, to whom nature has denied the ordinary faculties of mind, can remain insensible to the excitement of glory, or the rewards of love.

He had not, however, proceeded far, when on a sudden there alighted on the head of his steed, right between the ears, one of the most extraordinary creatures he had ever seen. It was a little imp, about three feet high, exactly resembling one of those scarecrows we sometimes see in corn-fields, except that it was a great deal more _outre_ in its form and dimensions. It wore an immense hat, of the shape of a cullender, and with almost as many holes, through which protruded little wisps of straw instead of feathers. The face was perfectly undefinable, having neither dimensions nor shape, resembling nothing of the live human species, and consisting apparently entirely of a nose which projected several inches beyond the brim of his hat; his shirt-collar was tied with a piece of rope; his jacket was as much too short as his breeches were too long, one being out at the elbows, the other at the knees, the latter of which were tied with a wisp of straw tortured into a true lover's knot; his legs seemed nothing but a pair of short broom-sticks, of neither shape nor substance, ensconced in an old pair of spatterdashes; and the toes of his shoes curled upward like a pair of old-fashioned skates. Altogether he cut a curious figure, and the prince could not help laughing at his new traveling companion. "This," thought he, "must be Master Whipswitchem."

But his gallant steed did not seem to enter into the spirit of the joke. He pricked his ears, pawed the ground, snorted, champed and foamed, and finally stood stock still, trembling like a leaf. Prince Violet began to wax somewhat impatient. Yet at length said to him very courteously--

"My friend, if it is the same thing to you, I had rather you would get off and walk."

"Thank you, my friend, but if it's the same thing to you, I'd rather ride. Ho-ho! ha-hah!" and thereupon he laughed like a whole swarm of flies.

Then the valiant prince drew his sword and gave Master Whipswitchem a great blow under the short-ribs, which he took it for granted would cut him in two; but the sword rebounded as if it had struck on an empty bladder, while the little imp only bounded upward about three yards, alighting in the same place as before, and crying out, "Ho-ho! hah-hah!" At this rate, thought Prince Violet, I shall never get to the end of my journey. Still he repeated his blows, at each one of which the pestiferous little imp only jumped higher and laughed louder, and the gallant steed only snorted, pawed, and stamped more vehemently, until both steed and master became quite exhausted. The latter then resorted to artifice, seeing that force was unavailing. So putting up his sword, he affected to expostulate with his troublesome companion on the impropriety of his conduct, watching at the same time for an opportunity of laying hold of him. When he seemed off his guard, and was crying "Ho-ho! ha-hah!" with infinite glee, the prince suddenly throwing himself forward, seized him by the long nose, and after holding him up kicking in the air for a few moments--for he was as light as a feather--with a sudden jerk pitched him away out into the river, where, after bobbing up and down some half a dozen times, and crying "Ho-ho! ha-hah!" he disappeared. "Ho-ho! ha-hah!" cried the prince, "I think I have done Master Whipstichem's business this time." After which he proceeded gayly on his journey.

Before, however, he had time to enjoy the victory, his gallant steed suddenly began to rear up before, and then to kick up behind with great violence. The prince clapped his hand on his trusty blade, thinking he was approaching the giant, but on looking round in every direction could see neither castle nor draw-bridge. Indeed nothing visible seemed to justify the horse in his unseemly gambols, and the prince accused his gallant steed of being in league with his enemies, when happening to look over his shoulder, who should he see but Master Whipswitchem seated quietly on the crupper, and spurring away with an old rusty nail he had fixed in the heel of his shoe, while he held by the horse's tail for a bridle. "I swear by the eyes of my beautiful gold-fish," cried the prince, "but this is too bad!" And then he attempted to dislodge the pestilent imp, by thrusting his elbow into his back; but the little caitiff every time bounced up like a tennis-ball, and the next instant was in his seat, crying, "Ho-ho! ha-ha!" louder than ever. This time he was too cunning for the prince; for knowing by experience that his nose was the most exposed part of his outworks, he kept his back to the prince, and his face toward the tail of the horse. At the expiration of an hour the prince became so worried that he could scarcely lift his hand to his head, and his horse so exhausted that he could kick no more. At length, however, while the little caitiff was spurring and laughing away with great glee, the prince turning suddenly round on the saddle, seized the rope which he wore round his neck for a cravat, and leaping from his steed, hoisted him up to an old sign-post at the road-side, where he left him dangling in the air. "Ho-ho! ha-ha!" said the prince, "I think I shall have no more trouble with Master Whipswitchem."

Finding himself as well as his steed quite exhausted, and both requiring rest and refreshment, Prince Violet dismounted in a pleasant, shady grove, through which meandered a clear stream, bordered by rich, luxuriant grass, thus furnishing both drink and food to the panting animal, whom, having turned loose, he left to roam at will. Seating himself among a bed of fragrant flowers, he lighted a cigar, and sat smoking and thinking of his future prospects.

"Ho-ho! ha-hah! my prince, what are you about? You put me in mind of a smoking chimney, though from your mighty contented look, I should suppose you were very pleasantly occupied. I should like to take a puff too, if you have no objection."

"O, beneficent Fairy Violetta," exclaimed the prince, "what shall I do with this pestiferous caitiff, who minds neither hanging nor drowning?" And thereupon the fairy, who doubtless heard his adjuration, inspired him with a lucky thought. Knowing that the little caitiff was but a man of straw, animated by the wicked enchanter, he at once resolved to take advantage of that circumstance.

"Ho-ho! ha-hah! are you there, my friend?" replied the prince. "Well, I see there is no use in quarreling with such a pleasant fellow. Come, sit down, and take a puff with me, and let us swear eternal friendship."

"Agreed!" replied the little caitiff, briskly. "It is true you played a joke or two on me, but I flatter myself, on the whole, I paid you beforehand; and for the present the account is pretty well balanced."

So they sat down and smoked very sociably together, talking about various matters, until the little caitiff's cigar being burnt to a stump, and somewhat incommoding his long nose, he began turning and twisting it about, until it set fire to some blades of straw that projected from his nostrils, which straight-way communicated to his head, and thence to his body, and in a moment he was in full blaze.

"I am a gone sucker!" exclaimed he, and the words were scarcely out of his mouth when, he became nothing but a heap of black ashes.

"Ho-ho! ha-hah!" quoth the prince, "if he is a gone sucker, I take it for granted, it is all Dicky with Master Whipswitchem." And then, himself and his horse being sufficiently refreshed, he mounted and rode forward on his journey.

Ascending a high, wearisome hill, he saw at a little distance a great and magnificent castle, which he at once took for that of the enchanter Curmudgeon. The crisis of his fate was then at hand; and after inspecting his armor and equipments, the prince spurred on briskly to consummate his destiny. A few moments brought him to a tower, at the end of a draw-bridge, where hung an enormous bell, which, without hesitating a moment, he rung till it resounded far and near. Instantly at the sound there rose up from the inner side, a monstrous and deformed giant, upward of sixteen feet high. As he advanced, he seemed all body and no legs--the latter being utterly disproportioned to the former; his shoulders rose like mountains, one higher than the other, almost to the top of his head; his body was all over covered with impenetrable scales like an alligator, and he wore on his head an old Continental cocked-hat, from which projected a queue of such unaccountable length that it was said nobody ever saw the end of it. But his most atrocious feature was a great proboscis, growing just over a little pug nose, he used for smelling, about the size of that of an elephant, which it exactly resembled in strength and elasticity.

"What want you here?" roared the monster, in a voice so loud and horrible, that it set the bell tinkling, and in a most discourteous manner peculiar to giants, who are notorious for their ill manners.

"I wish to see the far-famed and puissant enchanter, the great Curmudgeon, with whom I have a bone to pick, an please your worship," replied the prince, with infinite politeness.

"You see him--what good will that do? He would not look at, much less speak to, such a sloppy stripling as you. To the right-about--march! or I'll make mince-meat of you in less than no time."

"Stand aside, and let me pass!" cried the enraged prince, drawing his sword.

"Advance at your peril!" roared the giant, twirling his proboscis, and twisting his long queue like a great black-snake.

And now commenced a battle, the like of which is not recorded in history, tradition, or romance. The sword of the valiant prince gleamed, and flashed, and flew about like lightning, raining such a shower of dry blows on the monster, that had not his hide been invulnerable to any but enchanted weapons, he would in good time have been a gone sucker, as Sir Bruin said. The giant, on the other hand, had managed his proboscis with admirable skill, his great object being to entwine the prince in its folds, and squeeze him to death. Sometimes he would stretch it out at least six yards, and at others draw it in suddenly, in hopes the prince would be deceived as to its length, and come within the sphere of its action. But the prince being gloriously seconded by his gallant steed, displayed an activity fully equal to the craft of the giant; and for an hour at least the fight continued doubtful. The only vulnerable part of the monster was his long queue, which the prince, in hopes that, like Sampson, his strength might peradventure lie in his hair, by an adroit manoeuvre cut off about six feet from his head. Thereupon he roared like ten thousand bulls of Bashan, insomuch that the enchanter, Curmudgeon, feared he was vanquished, and trembled in the recesses of his castle.

The giant frantic with rage at the loss of what he was more vain of than even his stately proboscis, now redoubled his efforts, while the prince every moment became more exhausted, and his gallant steed ceased his usual activity. The giant seeing this, watched his opportunity, till he at length succeeded in throwing a slipping noose, made by twisting his proboscis over the head of the prince. This he gradually tightened with all his force, until the prince perceived himself rapidly suffocating. His eyes failed him, and seemed bursting from their orbits; his vision presented nothing but gleams of many colored lights dancing before him; his heart heaved and panted with throes of desperate agony; his arm became almost nerveless, and his sword fell from his hand, while the shouts of the giant announced that the victory was won.

At this moment of extreme peril, when the last gleam of consciousness lingered in his brain, the prince recollected the bouquet of violets which he still carried in his bosom, and drawing it forth with a desperate effort, thrust it into the little pug nose of the giant, which was directly before him. That instant the proboscis relaxed, as if by magic, and the giant suddenly untwining its folds, commenced a fit of sneezing, awful to hear, jumping up several feet from the ground at every paroxysm, swearing at intervals like a trooper, and cutting the most enormous capers. The moment Prince Violet recovered himself sufficiently, he dismounted, and regaining his trusty sword, belabored the impenetrable hide of the egregious monster with such arrant good will, that he retreated backward between every fit of sneezing, until finally falling into the moat, he stuck fast in the mud, sneezing and roaring most vociferously.

Prince Violet lost no time, but passed swiftly into the castle, and proceeding through several apartments, far more vast and magnificent than the palace of King Doddipol, at length came to the study where the wicked enchanter practiced Mesmerism, and other diabolical devices. The old sinner was seated in an arm-chair of ebony, curiously carved, and ornamented with figures of strange, misshapen imps, among which the prince recognized his old friend, Master Whipswitchem. By his side stood a female of such transcendent and inimitable beauty, that the prince at once concluded this was the phantom against whom he was so emphatically warned by his good friend the fairy. He allowed himself but one glance, which sufficed to convince him she resembled exactly the charming princess he had so often seen in his dreams, and which had like to have proved fatal. Then shutting his eyes, he advanced backward, sword in hand, toward the enchanter, who at the first moment he saw him, began those mysterious wavings of the hand with which he was wont to put his victims to sleep, and those cabalistic words which changed men into beasts, insects, and reptiles. But the prince having his eyes shut, and his back toward him, could not see his motions, and the enchanter being horribly affrighted, as well as naturally a great blockhead, was so long in recollecting the formula of his incantation, that the prince, seeing by a sly glance over the shoulder, that he was sufficiently near, suddenly turned round, and with one blow severed his head from his shoulders. Then catching it before it fell to the ground, he threw it into the great kettle that hung boiling over the fire. He was just in time, for Curmudgeon had got to the last but one of his cabalistic words, and in a single instant more, Prince Violet would have been changed into a cabbage. No sooner was the head thrown into the kettle, than the water began to hiss and foam, and blaze up in spires of blue sulphureous flame, until finally the kettle burst into a thousand fragments, and the head disappeared up the chimney. Then the phantom beauty, uttering a shrill, dismal scream, melted into air--and the enchantment was dissolved forever. At that moment Prince Violet heard a voice from the skies, as tuneful as the music of the spheres, saying, "Well done, my prince, the death of the wicked enchanter was necessary to the recovery of thy lost gold-fish--for while he lived thou wouldst never have seen it again. Go on--thy destiny ere long will be accomplished." A strain of aerial music succeeded, which gradually faded into whispering zephyrs, bearing on their wings the mingled perfume of a thousand flowers.

The prince took possession of the castle by right of conquest; and when the people over whom the enchanter had reigned with a cruel and despotic sway heard of the gallantry with which he had rid them of their tyrant, they gathered themselves together, and with one voice chose him for their king.

Prince Violet proved an excellent sovereign; but, though he made his subjects happy, he partook not in what he so freely bestowed on others. The recollection of the little gold-fish, and of the beautiful princess he had so often seen in his dreams, was ever present, and poisoned his days and nights with perpetual sorrows. Though courted by King Grabyall, and all the surrounding potentates, who had grown up daughters, he declined their advances, passing most of his leisure hours in wandering along the river he had followed in his journey, and which flowed just at the foot of the terrace of his stately castle. He remembered that it issued from the aperture through which he had emerged from the crystal basin, and constantly fed his sickly fancy with the hope that the little gold-fish might have vanished in the same direction. If so, it was probably still in the river, if it lived at all; and he was perpetually bending over the stream, watching the gambols of the finny tribes, to see if he could not detect among them his lost wanderer.

One day having rambled much further than he had ever been before in that direction, he perceived in turning a sharp angle of the river, a noble marble villa, which had never attracted his notice before. It basked its white, unsullied beauties on the bank of the murmuring stream, and its turrets rose from out a sea of green foliage that almost hid them from sight. Led by curiosity, or rather by his destiny, he approached the building by a winding walk, that seemed almost a labyrinth, now bringing him near, and anon carrying him to a distance, until tired at last, he stopped, and rested himself under the shade of a stately beech, that spread its broad arms afar, and afforded a delightful canopy. Here, gazing around in listless apathy, his attention was attracted by the letter V, carved on the smooth bark, and environed with a chaplet of violets, underneath which the motto, "Forget me not," was cut in graceful letters. While pondering on this rural emblem of constant love, he was startled by a low and plaintive female voice chanting the following simple strain, with the gentle pathos of chastened sorrow:

"Forget me not! forget me not! Pale, withered leaf, in which I read The sad, mysterious, lonely lot By cruel fate for me decreed.

"Pale, withered leaf, you mind me now Of him whose gentle name you bear, Whose lips once uttered many a vow, In breath more sweet than violets are.

"Oft would he take me in his hands, Oft hide me in his throbbing heart; Oft kiss my eyes with words so bland-- Was ever scaly imp so blessed;

"I joy'd his wasting form to see, His stately beauties fade away; 'T was wo to him, but bliss to me-- It made him sad, while I was gay.

"But I shall never see him more, Nor share with him my life's dear lot; Sweet youth, whose memory I adore-- Forget me not! forget me not!"

These words, sung to a sweet, melancholy melody, equally excited the sympathy and wonder of the prince. The idea of a young lady being delighted at seeing the face of her lover wither, and his body waste away, he thought did little credit to the heart of woman; and that what made him sad should make her gay, appeared to show a great want of sympathy. As to the "little scaly imp," he could make nothing of it. Still there was that in the song which seemed to bear some strange allusion to his own peculiar situation; and his curiosity became so excited, that without reflecting on the impropriety of his conduct, or its consequences, he, as it were, impelled by an involuntary yet irresistible impulse, advanced in the direction whence the voice proceeded.

Passing through a long winding avenue bordered by beds of violets, and overshadowed by lofty trees, he at length came to a bower of clambering vines entwined with each other, at the further extremity of which, seated on a bank of flowers, he beheld a female figure, her cheek resting on her hand, and tears flowing from her eyes. He gazed on her face, which was turned toward the heavens, and shuddered as he recognized an exact likeness of the phantom beauty he had seen at the side of the enchanter's chair. He sought to retreat, but continued to advance by an irresistible impulse, until the lady, at the sound of his footsteps, looked toward him. The moment she saw the prince she uttered a piercing shriek, at the same time rushing forward with extended arms, and a face glowing with joyous welcome. Then, as if suddenly recollecting herself, she hastily retired, and sunk down on the seat, her cheek glowing with blushes. The prince continued to advance, controlled by an influence he could not withstand, and coming up to her, apologized as well as the confusion of his mind would permit, for his unceremonious intrusion.

The lady remained gazing at him, with mingled smiles and blushes, for a few moments, and then addressed the prince in words that seemed to come from a mouth of roses.

"Don't you know me, my prince?"

"Know you," faltered he, "I believe--I fear--I know you but too well. You are the phantom beauty. The chosen instrument of the wicked enchanter, Curmudgeon."

"Alas! no. I am no phantom, nor, I trust, an instrument of mischief at least to you. The phantom was formed in my likeness, because--because, as the enchanter confessed, he could create nothing so beautiful as myself by the utmost exertion of his arts."

The prince gazed at her in a trance of admiration, for never, with the single exception of the phantom, and the idol princess of his dreams, had he seen a being so enchantingly lovely. The lady received his scrutiny with smiles of modest pleasure, and at length repeated her question--

"Do you not know me, my prince?"

The prince emboldened by her smiles, or impelled by his destiny, seated himself by her side, and gazed ardently, yet wistfully, in her face. There was something in the expression of her eyes he fancied he had seen before, but when or where he could not call to mind. At length the lady, compassionating his perplexity, again anxiously asked--

"Do you remember a certain little gold-fish?"

"Remember? I shall never forget," and his eyes glistened.

"Do you remember how you used to come to the crystal basin, at the foot of the shining cascade, and stay all day long fondling a little gold-fish, kissing its eyes, and hiding it in your bosom?"

"Remember!" cried the prince, "the recollection constitutes the hope, or rather the despair, of my life. Would that I could see my dear little companion again. Methinks I should then be happy, or at least die content."

"Look in my face--look steadily," replied the lady, greatly agitated.

Their eyes met, and that look of mutual intelligence which never deceives, disclosed the mystery. He recognized at once that glance of mingled love and gratitude he had so often seen beaming from the soft expressive eyes of the little gold-fish. He started from her side, threw himself at her feet, and exclaimed--

"Tell me--tell me! art not _thou_ my little gold-fish?"

"I am," rejoined the lady. "Once thy little gold-fish, now thy faithful and devoted handmaid, the Princess Violetta. It is to thy constancy I am indebted for the recovery of my former self; and such as I am, I will be to thee what thou choosest to make me."

"Mine forever! my beloved, my adored wife!" cried the prince, as he folded her in his arms, kissed her as he was wont to do the little gold-fish, and at that moment reaped the reward of all his sufferings.

After enjoying the first delights of mutual love, the princess said to him, "Doubtless you are anxious to know how I came to be transformed into a fish; and I will tell you now, that there may be nothing to explain hereafter. I must begin early, for my misfortunes commenced almost at my birth. I am the only child of King Grabyall, in whose dominions you now are; and according to the universal custom of all royal christenings, a great many fairies were invited to mine, and some few vulgar things came without invitation. Among the latter was an old fairy, so ill-natured and malicious, that, though very powerful to do evil, no one would pay her the least attention; for they knew that no kindness could conciliate the wicked old creature. Of course, neither my father nor mother paid her the least attention, or made her presents; and no one spoke a word to her, at which she flew into a great rage, and went away shaking her wand, and mumbling in a spiteful manner, 'Well, good people, you are all mighty silent now, but before long you shall have talking enough, I promise you!'

"Everybody laughed at the spiteful old woman--but it was no such laughing matter, I assure you, my prince; for she was hardly out of sight, when, to the astonishment of the whole court, I began to talk with such volubility that nobody could keep pace with me. First I scolded the nurse, then abused the fairies, and finally took my parents to task roundly for attempting to stop me. The courtiers tried to persuade them that this was only an omen of my precocious genius, and that, beyond all doubt, I should one day become the wisest, most eloquent princess in the world. But they remembered the threat of the malicious old fairy, and became exceeding sorrowful. As I grew up my volubility increased; I talked from morning till night, and all night too. Sleeping or waking, it was just the same; and my voice was so loud and shrill that it could be heard all over the palace. What rendered the matter still worse, I was exceeding ill-natured, satirical, and witty, insomuch, that all were afraid to come near me; and I was obliged at last to talk to myself. It is necessary I should apprise you that I grew up to great beauty, and by the time I was sixteen, many of the neighboring princes came to pay their addresses to me. But I never gave them an opportunity, for before they could open their lips, I poured a torrent of satirical reproaches in their ears that struck them all dumb; insomuch, that it was said some of them never recovered their speech afterward. Do you not hate me, my prince, for being such a termagant?"

The prince, to say the truth, was a little startled at this detail, but replied with a look that was perfectly satisfactory; and the princess proceeded with her story.

"At the age of seventeen, the enchanter, Curmudgeon, incited by the report of my beauty, came to pay my father a visit--my mother being long since dead. He at first sight fell violently in love, and demanded me in marriage of my father, who, though a kind-hearted, good man, was, I believe, heartily glad to get rid of me, but at the same time frankly apprized him of my infirmity. 'O, ho!' answered the enchanter, 'never mind that--I shall soon cure her, I warrant you.' He then approached to make his declaration, when, being exceedingly provoked at his slighting expressions, which I had overheard, I gave him such an explosion of satire, spleen, and ill-nature, as he had never probably heard before. I ridiculed his pretensions, scoffed at his person, despised his offers, and defied his power, until he could stand it no longer. Stamping his foot on the floor, waving his hand, and muttering some cabalistic words, he at length cried out in a rage, 'BE DUMB FOREVER! or at least till such time as some prince shall be fool enough to fall in love with you, and pine away until he makes no shadow in the sun.'

"At that moment I found myself changed into a gold-fish, and swimming in the crystal basin where you first saw me. How long I remained there before you made your appearance I cannot tell, but I know that I was heartily tired of my loneliness, and at first felt the loss of speech very severely. I rejoiced when I first saw you. Your caresses penetrated my heart, and--you must forgive me, my dear prince--but when I beheld you wasting away daily, and knew it was for love of me, my happiness grew with your sorrows, for I felt that my deliverance was at hand, and that I should live to reward you for all your sufferings. The day the sun first shone full into the crystal basin, and I saw that you cast no shadow there, you may remember, I suddenly darted from your hand and disappeared. It was very ungrateful, but I could not resist my destiny. I was instantly transformed to my original likeness, and--but don't be alarmed, my prince, for I assure you my propensity to talking was effectually and forever repressed, by the long habit of silence I had preserved as the little gold-fish. I was received by my father with affectionate welcome, and--and what else shall I say? I have mourned your absence day after day, until I almost ceased to hope that I should ever see you again. But," added the princess, with a look of unutterable tenderness, "thou hast come back once more to me--thou hast sought and found thy little gold-fish, and I am happy."

The prince had scarcely time to return suitable acknowledgments, and vow eternal love, when they were roused by the sound of the hunter's horn, announcing the return of King Grabyall from the chase. The princess introduced him to the prince; and his majesty being in high good humor, having been very successful that morning, beside having an excellent appetite for dinner, received him most graciously. The ardent prince lost no time in declaring his love; and King Grabyall, knowing that he had been chosen to govern the territories of the enchanter, Curmudgeon, beside inheriting all his vast riches, graciously consented to the marriage. He did this the more willingly, knowing from late experience that the princess, having fulfilled the denunciation of the malicious old fairy, had survived her infirmity.

There was never in this world such a splendid and happy wedding; and what added to the pleasure of all parties, was seeing the good fairy, Violetta, enter the superb saloon to honor the ceremony.

"Welcome, my prince," said she, holding out her little, delicate hand, "I congratulate you; you have triumphed by valor and constancy."

When the ceremony was over, the prince inquired anxiously whether she knew aught of his father, and was informed that he had married the daughter of good King Doddipol, and was wasting his substance as fast as possible, by giving _fêtes_ to the bride, and lending great sums to his father-in-law. Prince Violet sighed at the fate of the Old Man of the Hills, but in good time forgot all his griefs in the arms of love and beauty.

The Princess Violetta made a most excellent wife, and never afterward talked more than became a reasonable woman. The wicked giant, who, it should have been premised, had been extricated from the moat, and finished his fit of sneezing, being freed from the diabolical influence of the enchanter, Curmudgeon, took the pledge, became a tetotailer, and lived ever after an example to all overgrown monsters, past, present, and future.

THE VESPER BELL.

BY PARK BENJAMIN.

How deep and mournfully at eve's sweet hour The bell for vespers chimes its holiest note, When the soft twilight lends its soothing power And on the air a silence seems to float!

The weary wand'rer knows a home of rest, He toils not now who toiled the livelong day, Friends cherish fondest recollections, blest With thoughts of them whose love cannot decay,

The best affections of the heart are told, We greet with joy our dear, domestic hearth, And think how strong the viewless bonds that hold Unwearied love to transient things of Earth.

And visions of his lyre the poet sees At this lone time of Nature's sweet repose, When fancied music, borne on every breeze, Æolian-like, with thrilling sadness flows.

Oh, then move thoughts, the holiest and best, O'er the soul's calm and mild serenity, Like beauteous birds that skim along the breast Of the still waters in some waveless sea.

Where that deep bell sends forth its solemn tone, How many worship at Devotion's shrine! How many voices rise before the throne Whence the bright glories of the Godhead shine!

Not when the glories of th' opening day With crimson blushes usher in the dawn, Not when the noontide pours its deepest ray On forest, glade, blue lake and emerald lawn;

Not when the moonbeams shed their silvery light In richest lustre over copse and dell, Come sainted hopes, sweet dreams and fancies bright As when through shadows sounds the Vesper Bell.

THE TEACHER TAUGHT.

BY MARY S. ADAMS.

"Three months' imprisonment! Heigho!" soliloquized Harvey Hall, as he entered the school-room, and surveyed the array of seats before him. "Well, poverty is a crime punished not only by one's state and country, but by the whole world. Here am I longing for a profession which shall give some play to my mind, which shall enable me to take a stand among men; and now to purchase that profession I must 'teach young ideas' till the requisite sum is obtained. The daughters of Darius were condemned for the murder of their husbands to fill leaky vessels in Tartarus--that is, they became teachers! It is hard that those who have neither _been_ nor _murdered_ husbands should endure like punishment."

Harvey Hall always spoke the truth, albeit sometimes the truth a little _swollen_; so he was, as he said, condemned to a temporary reign over children and spelling-books, in order to pursue his studies--for the expenses of which the limited finances of his parents would not suffice; and he had taken the academy at L., with the due announcement of all his qualifications in the county newspaper.

"Some bright faces here," thought he, as his eyes glanced over those of his scholars upturned to him, and rested on one with eyes bright enough to light Cupid on his way to any untenanted heart, but bearing the expression of smothered mirth, never relished by those who do not happen to know the _mot d'enigme_. Small white fingers traced something rapidly on the slate, which was then given to a young lady, who, on the perusal of its characters, gave a stifled laugh, and buried her face in a handkerchief. But the author of the mischief, whatever it was, instantly turned to gravity, and met the searching gaze of Hall with a demure look which amused him not a little.

"That daughter of Parson Hinton finds fun enough in something. I wish her father could preach her into better behavior. She is the most troublesome sprite I have in school. Young ladies," he said, assuming all the dignity of his position, "less whispering, and more attention to your studies would conduce to your improvement."

Annie Hinton and her chum took their books, and were soon apparently absorbed in them. Annie met with some question she could not solve; and taking her book to the teacher, she asked an explanation. It was given.

"And you made an observation just now, sir, which I wish to remember. Will you be so kind as to repeat it," she added, bending toward him with the greatest mock attention and deference.

It is said that the worst reception of a compliment is to request its repetition; and the remark is just as applicable to a reproof. Certainly Harvey Hall found it so. Impudence he could have met successfully; but there was something in the arch air of respect, so evidently assumed, and in the polite tone accompanying bright eyes which _would_ almost laugh out, which told him that the present scene would figure in some after frolic formidable enough to young gentlemen who are never proof against the ridicule of mirthful girls in their teens. He longed to laugh with her at it all, but an assembled school, a roguish scholar, would not exactly admit of this; so, coloring a little, and then provoked at himself for the _gossiping_ blood which betrayed his inward embarrassment, he said,

"Oh, merely that study is more appropriate to the school-room than amusement. I shall be happy to have it dwell in your memory and practice, Miss Hinton."

Annie bowed gracefully, gravely, and turned away, but not before Hall mentally resolved never to admonish her again if he could avoid it.

When the day for compositions came--that bore which all parties would gladly overlook instead of look over--Hall, dreading trite essays on all the hackneyed themes of school, told the misses under his charge to write on any thing that interested them--they might describe some of the manners and customs among them.

"But we have _no manners_, and very few customs, Mr. Hall," said Annie.

"Well, select any subject that pleases yourself, Miss Annie."

The composition was on Dignity, and was so ludicrous, so _personal_ a description of it, that Mr. Hall was fairly puzzled. What shall I say to this merry damsel, who seems to turn into sport all I say or do. I cannot correct her.

"Miss Hinton, carry this home to your father, and see if he says it is a proper article for you to bring in as a composition."

The next day it was returned with, "My father thinks Dignity one of the finest things he has ever seen," she said, half hesitating, as if unwilling to utter such praise, but looking as if all the spirits of fun had taken the opportunity to look out of her eyes. Of course, her reverend parent had never had a glimpse of it--and this her teacher very well knew.

But why watch her with more interest than all the "well behaved" of his school? In accordance with Scripture, he left the ninety and nine just ones, to search for the one who went astray. The lessons she recited had for him a double interest; the days she was absent were like the dull, gray sky of autumn--nay, several times he even acknowledged to himself that teaching was _not_ the dull routine he had supposed, and the term of his probation had not the leaden wings he had anticipated.

But there was an apprehension to disturb the tenor of his thoughts, and fall heavily upon his official capacity. He had--yes, he certainly had seen Annie Hinton receive a billet from Charles Lane; and Charles Lane was a bright youth--a fine scholar--ready to enter college the next term--and just her age. It was wrong, decidedly wrong, to have any silly flirtations between mere boys and girls--he had always considered it so; but now it was wonderful to see how strong his reasoning, and firm his opinions were on this subject. And personal experience _has_ an extraordinary power in giving edge to moral reflections; how it draws them out of the shade, concentrates and clinches them.

Well, Harvey Hall felt really grieved that scholars should have their attention drawn away from their studies by such nonsense as a children's love affair. Charles Lane was a promising boy to be sure; but he must go through college, and be settled in life before he ought to think of fancying any one. He might become dissipated--such bright boys often did; or fickle--in short, no one knew which rein of his character the future might pull. And Annie--pretty creature--who could not pass a day without some mirthful episode, how ridiculous for a child like her to think of selecting a lover! her mind was not disciplined at all--her taste not pronounced; she might make a different choice when she really knew her own wishes, and had seen more of the world. It would be wrong to entangle herself with any passing fancy like the present--really wrong to suffer a child to make a decision by which the _woman_ must abide. And then the good minister would be shocked to see his plaything, Annie, forming any foolish attachment. Yes, he must do all he could to prevent it. But how could Parson Hinton be so blind? The other evening when he called there, Charles Lane knocked at the door, to bring a slip of geranium, which he had walked several miles to get for Annie; and the old gentleman only said, "You are very obliging, Charles--drop in and see us often." So strange, not to know it was just like such precocious youths to fancy themselves in love with every pretty girl. So laws were enacted stricter than those of the Medes and Persians, against all billets passed in school; as if Cupid, had he made the essay, would not have delighted to jeopardize all regulations, and fly in the face of all laws.

One day as Mr. Hall was ascending the steps to enter school, he saw Annie give Charles Lane a knitted purse, and heard her say something about "the phillipina." As I said, he was _principled_ against such interchange of sentiment, or gifts, between such children; but the present instance did not come precisely under his dominion, being _out_ of school--and he entered upon his duties with a somewhat cloudy brow. Every one has observed how much the sky of his feelings influences the earth of reality. If one wakes "out of tune" in the morning, the events of the day seldom harmonize him. Let you walk out in a city, feeling blue and burthened, and how many things conspire to annoy you. You are blinded by dust, or contaminated with mud, or the snow slumps, or your feet slip at every step; a child is almost run over in the street; people jostle rudely; the bell tolls; the town-crier seems to scream at every corner where you turn; the lady you particularly admire is talking with vast animation to ----, and does not even perceive you; a bow thrown away; Mr. Lawkens, the deaf man, will cross over to speak to you, but cannot hear your answer, although you have repeated it the third time; a gust of wind blows off your hat, and a bore holds you by the button to tell you, what you well knew, the election has gone against your favorite candidate; while you inwardly exclaim, "misfortunes never come single."

Our pedagogue had a hazy atmosphere around his spirit this day--and nothing cleared it. The recitations were miserable, and the boys full of pranks--which boys are heir to; the girls were any thing but book-intent. The class in chemistry was called, and as Mr. Hall was performing some experiments on the apparatus, he said,

"Now, when I apply this, you will see that--it wont go," he added, as the desired result, from some cause, failed.

"Certainly, we see it," smilingly whispered Annie to the next on her seat.

The sound reached Mr. Hall, already mortified by the failure of the experiment.

"Miss Hinton," he exclaimed, in a loud, stern tone, "take your books, and go home."

Annie looked surprised, as well she might, and waited, as if to be sure she did not misunderstand him. The attention of the school was roused--there could be no revocation--so the mandate was repeated, and obeyed.

Poor Hall! his chemical manipulations were no more successful that day; classes were called, and heard at random. The small scholars thought "it was a grand time--master did not seem to mind them;" while older ones wondered at his unwonted humor. Meanwhile his reflections were any thing but agreeable. How could he have been so harsh for such a trifle, and ungentlemanly too. All Annie's faults were the mere exuberance of a joyous spirit; and she was quick to acknowledge and regret them; and yet he had not expostulated, but abruptly commanded her to leave. How she must despise him! And she had a great deal of sensibility; he had seen the color suffuse her face, and the tears glisten in her dark eyes, when a tale of sorrow or delicious poem had excited her emotion. Perhaps she was at that very moment weeping at his harshness; and then proofs of interest in _him_, albeit she was a laughter-loving spirit, stole over his memory. He thought of an evening he had lately passed at her house, when his conversation seemed to rivet her attention, although he afterward heard her say, "There! Mary Jane has a party to-night, and I entirely forgot it until too late. Well, I have enjoyed myself better here." And _he_, the ingrate! how had he returned it, by unwarrantable rudeness! She was just beginning to talk to him with confiding frankness of her books, her tastes, and opening to _his_ study a mind as well worth it as the changing loveliness of her face--when this folly had destroyed it all. And what would the good minister say? He who had received him so kindly; so hospitably told him to come to him at any and all times when he could be of assistance--what would _he_ say to have his pet, at once his amusement and pride, turned out of school like any common urchin?

Oh! how the hours of school dragged. Every moment seemed to bear a weight of lead, and carry to the luckless teacher a thousand arrows poisoned by self-reproach. No sooner was his fiat of release obtained, than with mingled regret and apprehension, he wended his steps to the parsonage. He knocked at the door, desired to see Mr. Hinton, and was accordingly shown up into his study.

"He looks as if something lay on his mind," thought the clergyman, as he saw him enter, and advanced to shake hands with him. "Perhaps he is considering the concerns of his soul. Heaven help me to counsel him aright!" and there was an unusual kindliness in his tone, as he urged him to be seated, which was "heaping coals of fire" on the head of the conscience-stricken teacher.

A pause. "I am--I have called--I regret--"

"Ah, yes," mentally ejaculated the old man, "he feels the burden of sin, and is under conviction, I see--"

"In short, sir, I am sorry to trouble you at this time, but I--"

"Speak out freely, my dear young man," said his benignant listener.

Is it possible he does not know what has passed?

"I regret to say that, vexed by the inattention of the scholars, and by whispering, in which Miss Annie joined, I hastily told her to leave school."

"Told my daughter Annie to leave school!"

The door of the study was thrown open, and Annie danced into the middle of the room, her bonnet hanging on her arm, flowers in her hair, and a bouquet in her hand, fresh from the woods in which she had been rambling. "Father! father!" she stopped, and gazed first at her father, and then at Mr. Hall, with a mingled expression of regret and surprise. Her long walk that afternoon had given her a heightened color; and the varied feelings which moved her were clearly depicted on her face.

"Come here, Annie," said Hall, extending his hand, "come here, and say you forgive the rudeness of this afternoon." She hesitated an instant--the crimson deepened on her cheek, and the lip slightly trembled; then looking up with one of her own radiant smiles, she gave her small, white hand to the teacher.

Not long after he made another visit to the good minister's study, not, indeed, to ask forgiveness for turning Annie out of school, but to beg permission to transplant her one day to a home of his own. Whatever was said, we suspect Annie might have served as "an instance in point" for that rather broad generalization of Swift,

"No girl is pleased with what is taught But has _the teacher_ in her thought."

"Young gentlemen," said Harvey Hall, (Judge Hall then,) when some years afterward two or three of his law students were spending the evening at his hospitable mansion, "young gentlemen, never regret the necessity of exerting yourself in order to obtain your profession; for beside the habit of _self-help_ thus formed, which is invaluable, you may," he added, glancing archly at the face, fair as ever, of her who sat with muslin stitchery by the centre-table, "meet with a wayside rose as precious as Annie."

THE SUNBEAM.

(FROM THE FRENCH OF LAMARTINE.)

Come! watch with me this sunbeam, as o'er the moss bank green It glides, and enters swiftly the foliage dark between; Resting its golden lever, of mystic length and line, Upon the dewy herbage, in an oblique decline: Toward its moving column the stamen of the flowers Whirl, as by strong attraction; and through the daylight hours Gay insects, azure atoms, with every-colored wing, Swim 'mid the light, still lending fresh sparkles as they spring.

See! how in cadenced measure they gravitate below, Now linking, then unlinking, in quick, harmonious flow; Of Plato's worlds ideal the semblance here appears, Those worlds that danced in circles to the music of the spheres: So small is every atom, amid yon countless band, That hosts of them were needful to make a grain of sand; They form the lowest step of that brilliant ladder trod, Ascending from the light mote to the all-present God.

And yet a separate being exists in every part, Within each airy globule there dwells a beating heart; One world, perchance, presiding o'er worlds unnumbered, free, To which the lightning's passage is an eternity; Yet, doubtless, each enjoying, within their drop of space, Days, nights, in all fulfilling their order and their place; And while in wondrous ecstasy, man's throbbing eye looks on, A thousand worlds are ended, their destinies are won!

O God! how vast the sources which feed such life and death, How piercing is that vision which marks out every breath; How infinite that Spirit which cherishes each grade; And more than all, how boundless that love, free, unrepaid, Which nurtures into being each particle that floats, Descending from far sun-worlds to microscopic motes; O God! so grand and awful in yonder little ray, What thought dare seek to fathom the blaze of thy full day?

MARY E. LEE.

THE ISLETS OF THE GULF;

OR, ROSE BUDD.

Ay, now I am in Arden; the more fool I; when I was at home I was in a better place; but Travelers must be content. AS YOU LIKE IT.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "PILOT," "RED ROVER," "TWO ADMIRALS," "WING-AND-WING," "MILES WALLINGFORD," ETC.

[Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by J. Fenimore Cooper, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Northern District of New York.]

(_Continued from page_ 293.)