CHAPTER VIII.

CONFIDANTE.--LEAD-MERCHANT.--TRADES.--THE ROSE OF HESPERUS; A FAIRY TALE.

As the time drew nigh when our young party would be called upon to separate, and to return to the every-day duties of the boarding or day school, and the home, the centralizing influences of affection appeared to be felt in an increasing degree. Aunt Lucy remarked that they greatly resembled a flock of birds or of sheep: where one came, the rest were sure very soon to follow. Cousin Mary asked George, with a look of great concern, if he felt very unwell indeed. "I? oh no, I never was better in my life. What could have put the notion into your head that I was ill?" "My dear Coz, you are so uncommonly good. You have not teased Anna or Gertrude at all to-day, and I begin to feel seriously alarmed for your health. I have so often noticed a sudden attack of meekness to precede a sudden attack of fever, that I really think it would be wiser to send for the doctor in time." "Don't concern yourself," replied he. "If that be all, I can soon prove that my pulse is in good order." So saying, he gave Mary's work-basket a sudden twitch, which sent her spools of cotton, winders, thimble, and emery-bag flying in every direction; when, of course, with the malice peculiar to things of such small natures, they carefully hid themselves in the darkest corners, and ran behind the legs of tables and sofas for protection, "Preserve me from boys!" said Mary with a laugh, as George ran out of the room. "If it were not unladylike, I really should box those ears of yours!"

"They are quite large enough to bear it--no danger of their being crushed," he replied, giving a pinch to the protruding members.

In the evening, as Gertrude claimed the honor of having been the most stupid person in playing "Elements" the night before, it was agreed that it appertained to her to introduce to the company another game. She said she had seen one played that resembled "Consequences," in so far that you wrote what you were ordered, and read it aloud when it was finished: but you were not obliged to turn down the papers after writing, as you did not change them with the rest of the company. She would call this game "Confidante," as she had never heard a name for it. Accordingly, every one got a pencil and sheet of paper, and wrote agreeably to her directions.

"Let each boy write a lady's name, and each girl a gentleman's name."

"Now, any past time--some date, if you please; yesterday, or a thousand years ago--it makes no difference."

"The name of a place."

"Either yes or no."

"Yes or no, again."

"Every boy write a lady's name, every girl a gentleman's."

"Some time to come."

"Write yes or no."

"Yes or no, again."

"Mention a place."

"Tell us your favorite color."

"Set down any number not exceeding 10."

"Another color."

"Yes or no."

"Let all write a lady's name."

"Let all write a gentleman's name."

"All, another lady's name."

"Every boy write a gentleman's name, every girl a lady's."

"Set down the name of a clergyman."

"Now, any sum of money."

"The name of a place."

"And lastly, any number."

"Now that we have finished, every one must read aloud his or her paper, without cheating, whatever it contains--each portion as an answer to a question. Charlie, to whom did you make your first offer?"

"Happily, to no one present: it was to Queen Victoria."

"When was it?"

"In the year 1492: the day Columbus discovered America."

"Where did this interesting event take place?"

"In the Tower of Babel."

"Does she love you?"

"Yes: how could she help it?"

"Do you love her?"

"Yes: to distraction."

"Whom will you marry?"

"Queen Jezebel."

"How soon does this auspicious match come off? for I want to have my wedding-dress ready."

"To-morrow--New-Year's day."

"Do you love her?"

"No, not at all."

"Does she love you?"

"No, alas!"

"Where does she live?"

"In Calcutta."

"What is the color of her hair?"

"Brilliant scarlet."

"What is her height?"

"Nine and a half feet."

"Please to mention the color of her eyes."

"A charming green."

"Is she pretty?"

"Yes, very."

"Who is to be bridesmaid at this happy wedding?"

"Miss Alice Bolton."

"Who will wait upon her?"

"King Nebuchadnezzar."

"Who is your sympathizing confidante?"

"Cousin Cornelia."

"Pray, tell us the name of your rival?"

"His Majesty, William the Conqueror of Normandy and England. I should not be sorry if he carried off my gentle dame."

"What clergyman will marry you?"

"The Archbishop of Canterbury."

"How much is the lady worth?"

"Three cents."

"Where will you live?"

"In the black-hole of Calcutta."

"How many servants will you keep?"

"Two millions, five hundred thousand."

"I must say, you are moderate, considering the lady's fortune. In asking the girls, I merely reverse the questions: 'From whom did you receive your first offer?' etc. As the game wants a name, I think it should be called 'Confidante:' the reader not only has a confidante in the play, but is called upon to intrust his secrets to the whole assembled company."

"But isn't this rather silly--all this about love and marriage?" asked Mr. Wyndham, with the hesitating manner of one who knows that he shall instantly be put down.

"Certainly it is, my dear uncle," answered Cornelia. "If it were not, we should not like it half so well, I can tell you. You know we must be foolish some time in our life--so, for my share, I'm taking it out now."

"Well, well--there's no harm in it, any how. Though you wouldn't believe it, I was young once myself, and don't like to be too hard upon the rising generation. There's a game I remember playing when I was a youngster, that is not too wise for you, but ought to have more solidity in it than the last, as it is all about lead. It is called the 'Lead-Merchant.' One tries in every mode to dispose of his lead to the company, asking question after question, to which you must answer without introducing the words _lead_, _I_, _yes_, or _no_. He tries to trip you in every way, and as soon as you say one of the forbidden words, you are out of the game. Would you like to try it?"

"Very much, uncle. Will you be the lead-merchant?"

"If you wish it. Amy, will you buy any lead?"

"Not any at present."

"But pray, why not?"

"Because none is desired at my house."

"Shall I call next week?"

"It is scarcely worth while: we do not wish any."

"I will stop to-morrow: your little boys want lead to make some bullets."

"They would only burn their sweet little fingers in melting it: they must not have any."

"Then you will not buy my lead?"

"Positively not."

"I noticed that the lead upon your roof wanted repairing: the rain will beat in, and you'll all be taken ill, unless you buy my lead. 'Tis only one cent a pound."

"If you gave it to me as a present, I wouldn't take your lead."

"Amy, you're caught! You said both _I_ and _lead_."

Notwithstanding all their care, the persevering lead-merchant entrapped every one in some moment of weakness; and the company agreed that he would make his fortune as a Yankee pedlar, or as an agent for some book that nobody wanted,--many would buy to get rid of him, on the same principle that the lady married her tiresome lover.

"And now," said Charlie, "let us play 'Trades.' We apprentice our son or daughter to some business, and mention that the first thing sold begins with a specified letter: but we must never repeat an article. The person who guesses, apprentices his son the next. I apprenticed my son to a carpenter, and the first thing he sold was a T."

"A table?" asked Mary. "I apprenticed my daughter to a milliner, and the first thing she sold was a yard of R. R."

"Red ribbon?" added Gertrude. "I apprenticed my son to a grocer, and the first thing he sold was a B. of R."

"Box of raisins?" inquired Cornelia. "I apprenticed my son to a cabinet-maker, and the first thing he sold was a S."

"Sofa?" said Tom. "I apprenticed my daughter to a dry-goods store, and the first thing she sold was ten yards of L."

"Lace?" asked Ellen.

"No--guess again."

"Linen? I see that's right. I apprenticed my son to a tinman, and the first thing he sold was a N. G."

"Nutmeg-grater?" inquired George. "Now, I apprenticed my son to a hardware man, and the first thing he sold was a P. of S."

"Pair of skates?" said Amy. "I apprenticed my son to a book-store, and the first thing he sold was a P. B."

"Prayer-book? I apprenticed my daughter to a dressmaker, and the first thing she made was a V. M."

"Velvet mantilla?" And so the game proceeded, the questions and answers being tossed from one to another, like ball or shuttlecock, so that the general interest was kept up.

"I think it high time we had our daily story," said Amy.

"So do I," replied her uncle; "and I commission you to tell it."

"I? oh no, uncle, I'm too young. I think the older ones should have the monopoly of that trade--I wasn't apprenticed to it."

"Not at all--you are of suitable age to be apprenticed now, so you may consider the bargain struck. Begin, my little Amy, and if you break down in the middle of your tale, I'll promise to finish it myself."

"Very well, uncle; I feel quite tempted to fail, to inveigle you into a sensible termination to a foolish story. We often invent tales in the interval at school, and I'll give you one that my schoolmates like. It is called

The Rose of Hesperus;

A FAIRY TALE.

Every one has heard of the Garden of Hesperus, famous in all ancient times for its exquisite beauty. Its golden fruit, more precious by far than the fleece of Jason, in search of which heroes perilled their lives on board the good ship Argo, was watched by a terrible dragon, whose eyes were never sealed by slumber. A hundred heads belonged to the monster, a hundred flames of fire issued from his numerous throats, and a hundred voices resounded threats against the audacious being who should invade his province. Hercules alone, of all the children of men, was able to overcome him: but although he then expired, the next rising sun again beheld him full of life and vigor. The dragons of earth are never annihilated. Each generation has the same work to perform, has its monsters to conquer; and this it is that makes the noble heroes whom we all delight to praise.

So small was the number of mortals ever favored with a sight of this earthly paradise, that it is not surprising its site is now unknown. Even among the ancients, it was a matter of speculation and mystery. The majority placed it in the north of Africa; and it is not improbable that travellers who for the first time beheld them, mistook for the Gardens of Hesperus the oases of the desert, those gems of nature which are all the more brilliant for being set in sand and clay. Others again asserted that this region of delight was to be sought beyond the western main, in a lone isle if the ocean. But all agreed that it was at the west, towards the sunset, that this treasure of earth was to be found: and thence it was that the name of Hesperus was bestowed upon it. Strange it is, that mankind has ever followed the sun in its path; and that while human life, religious truth, and science all point to the East as their source, they hasten westward for the fulfillment of their destiny. The East belongs to the Past--it is the land of memory: the West to the Future--it is the land of hope: and there it is that man seeks his happiness. It is in the yet unrevealed--in the mysterious West that the golden fruits and the perennial flowers bloom for him: not in Oriental climes, where, in his infancy, the Garden of Eden sheltered him.

So great is the lust for gold, and so small the love of moral beauty among the fallen race of man, that of all the varied productions of Hesperus, the golden apples alone have been mentioned in tradition and poetry. But in truth, these were far inferior to the precious roses which grew in the very centre of this paradise, and which were endowed, not only with exquisite form, hue, and fragrance, but with certain magic properties, invaluable to their possessors. If the bosom on which the flower rested were candid, pure, and kind, the rose bloomed with still richer loveliness, and emitted a delicious sweetness: and a grace was shed over the person of its owner, which grief and sickness could not dim, and old age itself was powerless to destroy. This indescribable something shone out in the eye, spoke in the voice, made the plainest features pleasing, and imparted an irresistible charm to the manner. It was as far superior to mere external beauty as the latter is to revolting ugliness. Nothing could destroy it: once gained, it was a lasting heritage. But on the other hand, if this rose were possessed by the false-hearted, the sensual, and the selfish, it sickened and paled day by day, giving forth a fainter fragrance continually, until it was completely withered. And in proportion as it lost its bloom, did the hideous heart of the wearer imprint itself upon the countenance, until the eye would turn away in disgust from the most brilliant complexion and chiselled regularity of features. It acted as a moral test, making evident to the dull eye of man, ever prone to think only of outside show, the beauty or the deformity within. Until the time of our story no roses had been dipt from the magic tree; and men, always ready to look to the bright side of the wonderful unknown, thought merely of the charm it could impart, and not of the danger incurred by the unlovely in heart and life.

I will not attempt to fix the date of my tale with historic accuracy. It is sufficient to say that the events occurred in that period of unreasoning faith, when the myths of Greece and Rome were mingled in the popular mind with the fairy legends of the north; and both were baptized in the waters of Christianity. It was a charming period for all lovers of romance: it was the childhood of modern Europe. But I must warn you that it is in vain to search for the names of my emperors in chronological tables. They lived at a time when the historian was somewhat at a discount, and the minstrel wrote the only records, with his harp and voice, upon the memory of his hearers; save that here and there a solitary monk wore out his days in copying the treasures of antiquity, and used his imagination in embellishing the lives of saints and martyrs. When the manuscript is found which settles the exact date of King Lear's reign, I cannot doubt that it will give all particulars about my kings also.

In those happy, misty days, there lived an Emperor of Germany, Hildebrand by name, a potent monarch. His court was splendid, and his retinue large and magnificent. But the chief glory of his palace, and the pride of his heart, was his daughter Clotilda, whose amazing beauty formed the theme of poets' praise, and whose fame was spread far beyond the limits of the Empire. Her form was of queenly majesty, her movements swan-like. Her glossy raven tresses set off a complexion of the greatest brilliancy: her faultless features would have served as a model to the sculptor. Large, sparkling eyes gave animation to her countenance, and took all hearts by storm. Add to these rare endowments a lively though malicious wit, great skill in all showy accomplishments, and especially in the arts of coquetry, and is it wonderful that she was almost worshipped in her father's court as a divinity?

To win her hand, embassies were sent from distant lands, and kings even came in person to plead their cause; but, hitherto, none had been successful. The fair Clotilda knew that she could choose among very many suitors, and her heart was none of the softest. Besides, she was well aware that she should be no portionless bride, as she and her younger sister Edith were her father's only heirs. She loved to keep many admirers in her train, but possessed too high a spirit to throw herself away upon any one inferior to herself in rank, power, or wealth. In addition to this, she had too keen a wit not to perceive and to enjoy the ridiculous, even in a suitor anxiously striving to gain her love. Truth to say, the adorable Clotilda had one small fault, unperceived by her worshippers, and hidden by the splendor of her beauty. She was heartless. If born with that important organ, she had early offered it up upon the altar of her own pride and vanity. Deprived of her mother at a very early age, and deferred to by all around, including her imperious father, she had soon learned to issue her commands with authority, and to rule the household and the court as a mistress. Love of power had now become her ruling passion, and fierce and headstrong was the will hidden under that brilliant and winning exterior. It was like a wild beast, slumbering behind a bank of roses.

Far different, both in person and character, was the neglected Edith, who grew up in the imperial court like a sweet wild-flower, overlooked when the gorgeous exotic is nigh. Her slender girlish figure, with its undeveloped grace; her airy step; her color, coming and going with the varying feelings of her quick sensibility, like the delicate pink clouds at sunset; her soft brown hair, waving around a face of child-like purity and womanly tenderness: and her large gray eye, from whose transparent depths an earnest and loving spirit looked out upon the world--these were not the traits to win admiration in a sensual, splendor-loving court, where all acknowledged the sway of Clotilda. Her father lavished the whole of his affection upon his elder daughter: the latter seldom noticed her, and thought her more fit for a nunnery or for a peasant's cottage, than for the station of a princess. And so Edith grew to womanhood, unspoiled by flattery--that incense was reserved for Clotilda's shrine. Not in that crowd of selfish courtiers and of worldly women, wholly given up to dress and gayety, could the refinement and simplicity of the gentle Edith be appreciated. She was with them, but not of them: hers was the loneliness most felt when in a crowd, the want of congenial companionship. Her unassuming modesty and poor opinion of her own worth, saved her heart from the sharp pangs of envy at the thought of her sister's superiority: and thus, even in the impure atmosphere of the palace, did this artless maiden live on, humbly looking up to one infinitely her inferior, and dwelling in love and peace. Her greatest enjoyments were of a kind despised by Clotilda. It was her delight to steal away from the gay assembly, where she was never missed, and to pore over the romantic lays of troubadours and monkish legends, and to make to herself a world, different from the one in which her lot was cast. Then she would be the lowly peasant-girl, singing while she worked, beloved by those for whom she toiled, and rising before the sun to deck the shrine of the Virgin with flowers. Or, if she were a princess, she lived but to bless and to relieve her people, and possessed the power of scattering happiness, as the beneficent night sprinkles dew-drops from her lap. From these day-dreams, the play of an active mind which had not yet found its true place in the universe, she would rouse herself to some deed of kindness, which others were too much immersed in pleasure to fulfil. If one of her maidens was ill, it was she who watched untiringly by her pillow, administering the medicines and the cooling draught. And it was she who rose by daybreak, while most of the menials of the palace were yet sleeping, and gave the daily portion of alms to the poor who waited at the gate--making the brown bread sweet by the gentle tones and kind words of sympathy. It is not strange, therefore, that Edith was beloved by all the children of affliction, and that she became universally known to the common people as "the good princess."

In honor of Clotilda's birthday, a tournament was proclaimed, to which princes and knights from all the neighboring countries were invited. The anxiously-expected day at length arrived: the sky was cloudless, and all nature appeared to smile upon the festival. Every thing was there united that could please and dazzle the eye. There were satins and damasks, cloth of gold and velvet; flowers, and cheeks more rosy; gems, and eyes more brilliant. At one end of the lists, upon his throne of gold and ivory, sat the Emperor, blazing with jewels. Near him stood his ministers of state, in their official robes, bearing aloft the insignia of royalty; and around him were his faithful guards, in complete armor, with drawn swords. Opposite sat his queenly daughter, the beautiful Clotilda, the cynosure of all admiring eyes. She was magnificently arrayed, and surrounded by a bevy of fair damsels, who shone like stars, eclipsed by the superior brightness of the moon. Seated a little apart, attired in simple white with a sash of blue, and wearing no ornament save her favorite flowers, the wood-violet and the lily of the valley, was Edith, gazing with unusual interest on that lively, gorgeous scene. And truly, the amphitheatre crowded with spectators, themselves a show, and the lists filled with gallant knights, whose pawing steeds seemed impatient for the combat to begin, might excite the imagination of the dullest, and was well calculated to fire her ardent spirit.

Unusual splendor marked this tournament, in honor of certain distinguished guests who had arrived, candidates for the hand of the Princess Clotilda. The most eminent among them for knightly bearing was the young Duke of Milan. He was handsome, proud, and imperious, but withal brave and courteous as became his gentle birth; and he was a magnificent patron of minstrels and men of letters, aiming to make his court the centre of literature and the fine arts. His personal qualities and accomplishments were such as to win for him the admiration of the fair Princess, who had never before been wooed by a suitor so much to her taste. His rank and possessions were so great that all would have acknowledged the match a suitable one even for Clotilda's pretensions. But a wider career of ambition was now opening before the vision of the aspiring lady. Who would stoop to be a duchess, when the diadem of an empress was placed at her disposal? Certainly not the Princess Clotilda, be her preferences what they might: she would have considered it childish folly to hesitate in her choice. And three emperors now graced the court, each provided with a numerous and splendid retinue. These daily vied with each other in gorgeous fêtes and costly presents to the proud beauty whom they hoped to win. In flowing robe of richest fabric, stiff with sparkling gems, behold the Emperor of China, the Sacred Son of Heaven, the Supreme Ruler of the earth! His shaven head is surmounted by a conical cap, at the crown of which one pearl of uncommon size points out his rank: beneath it hangs down a jet-black queue below his waist. His small, oblique eyes, his yellow complexion, and thin beard show him unmistakably to belong to the Central Flowery Land. He is a heathen: but perhaps for her sake he might be baptized. At any rate, there would be little difficulty in procuring a dispensation from Holy Mother Church, which is ever hopeful that such alliances may bring converts into her bosom. Will she, can she accept him? She will at least accept his gifts and his attentions, and will decide hereafter. Millions, unnumbered millions of slaves call him their lord; vast is his power and wealth; provinces would be her dowry. But would she not, herself, merely add another to his list of slaves? Secluded within his palace, with many rivals to counteract her, would she not gather thorns, as well as blossoms, in the Flowery Land? It is a matter to be considered.

But who are these two other Asiatics, as they appear by their dress, fashioned in Oriental magnificence? One is from the frozen North, the other from the sunny South, and they divide the east of Europe between them. That pompous, formal old man, whose small heart and head are stuffed full of etiquette, and who lives and breathes only in a sense of his own importance, is the ruler of the Byzantine Empire. He was born in the purple chamber, and wears the purple; he eats purple, drinks purple, sleeps purple--only as the Emperor does he exist--he could live as well without his head, as without his crown. He is so imbued with notions of his own dignity that he would prove a tough subject to manage. But his rival from the North is still undescribed. Tremble at the sight of this ugly Cossack, with small dull eye, flat nose, and bushy red beard; for in him behold the Autocrat of all the Russias! Not yet had the genius and perseverance of Peter the Great introduced the arts and sciences into that vast region of snow and mental darkness. Ivan, the Squinter, ruled over his serfs with Oriental despotism: he was ignorant, coarse, and profligate. At his feasts, the dishes were of gold from the Ural Mountains, and the attendants who waited upon the monarch were arrayed in all the grandeur of Eastern princes; but the slightest blunder on their part subjected them to death, to the more dreaded knout, or to banishment in Siberia. Nominally a Christian, the Emperor of China is quite a saint when compared with him, and infinitely more respectable. But the Czar is a fool, chiefly immersed in the pleasures of the table; and Clotilda, if Empress of Russia, could easily seize all real power, and sway the sceptre over millions of obsequious subjects.

These potentates are seated on thrones near Hildebrand, to witness the spectacle. But Udolpho, Duke of Milan, is among the combatants, mounted on a powerful charger, in armor blazing with gold: he looks like the flower of chivalry. He wears the colors of the Princess Clotilda, scarlet and green; and having ridden to the end of the lists, and made a lowly obeisance to his fair lady, he has returned to his place among the competitors for honor. Others there are who wear the same colors, but none to compare with him in rank and knightly bearing; and as the Princess gazed upon him, she wished him success. But what cavalier is this, with closed vizor, whose head towers above the rest like the cedar of Lebanon above all the trees of the forest? A kingly majesty marks every motion, and notwithstanding the unusual plainness of his accoutrements, all eyes are turned upon him with interest and curiosity. He is clad in brightly-shining steel, and no heraldic emblems show his rank. His Moorish page bears before him his shield, upon the black ground of which one blooming rose, and the motto _Quero_, "I seek," form the only device. He is an utter stranger to all: yet both Emperor and Princess command the herald to discover who he is. That he is illustrious, none can doubt. A blue ribbon, worn upon his arm, shows that he has not enlisted himself among the admirers of the Lady Clotilda: in whose honor can he wear it?

When the heralds have taken the oath of the combatants that they will in all respects obey the laws of chivalry in the approaching conflict, the names and titles of those who were about to engage in it were called aloud, with the sound of the trumpet. When the unknown knight was courteously requested to announce his name, he gave that of "The Knight of the Blooming Rose." The mystery as to who he could be increased the interest felt in him; and as one after another of the cavaliers was unhorsed by his firm and skilful arm and rolled in the dust, the excitement became intense. The Grand Duke Udolpho had also greatly distinguished himself, and it was soon very evident that the victory would lie between these two. Clotilda's sympathies were enlisted on the side of Udolpho: Edith's, for the Knight of the Blooming Rose, whose success she watched with breathless interest. The contest was not long undetermined: the shouts of the populace, and the waving of scarfs and handkerchiefs by fair hands, soon proclaimed the unknown cavalier to be the victor.

Escorted by the heralds he approached the Emperor, who, after pronouncing a eulogy upon his bravery and skill, threw round his neck a costly chain, and placed in his hand the wreath to be worn by the Queen of Love and Beauty, whose duty it should be to preside over the games during the remainder of the week, and to distribute prizes to the winners. It was his envied privilege to confer this dignity upon the lady who was fairest in his eyes. As he rode round the barriers, gazing at the numberless lovely faces assembled there, many a heart thrilled with emotion; and as he passed the Princess Clotilda, surprise, mortification, and resentment could only too plainly be traced upon her countenance. Never before had she been so slighted. But when the knight stopped before the Lady Edith, and kneeling down, besought her to confer dignity upon the office of Queen of Love and Beauty by filling it, the young girl's astonishment was great, as she had not for a moment thought of herself as a candidate for the honor. Quickly recovering herself, however, with the native courtesy of the high-born lady, agreeably to the manners of the day, she raised the cavalier, and taking off her blue sash, fastened it round his waist with her own hands, begging him to wear it as her knight, and ever to prove himself faithful and brave.

Thus ended the first day's tournament. Meanwhile, the burghers and yeomanry joined in the general festivity, having wrestling-matches, quoits and bowls, and various other rural games. A purse of gold was conferred upon the victors, and barrels of beer were continually running for the benefit of the public. The noble guests were invited to a banquet at the palace, which was to be repeated daily during the continuance of the games. The Knight of the Blooming Rose was, of course, a prominent person in these gay assemblies, and his noble person and courtly bearing greatly excited the admiration of the ladies of Clotilda's circle. But while courteous to all, his marked deference to the gentle Edith plainly showed that he was faithful to his allegiance. It was a new experience to the timid girl to be thus singled out in preference to the more brilliant beauties around her; and while it raised her in the estimation of others, it gave a decision and self-possession to her character in which it was previously deficient. And the intimate intercourse which she thus enjoyed with a kindred mind of high cultivation, earnest thought, and large acquaintance with mankind, gave a stimulus to her mental powers which only human sympathy can impart. The Emperor himself was greatly pleased with the gallant knight, and frequently honored him with confidential conversation. And yet no one could discover who he was. Free and unreserved in his communications with those around him, when this subject was approached, his lips were sealed in silence, and a certain dignity of manner warned off all intrusion. Efforts were made to arrive at the truth through the medium of his page; but the noble-looking Moor was a mute, and would only hold intercourse with those around him by gestures and expressive looks.

In the succeeding days of the tournament, various games of knightly skill and prowess engaged the attention of the competitors for honors, and in all of them did our cavalier come off victorious. In the use of the bow he was unrivalled, ever piercing the centre of the target, and bringing down the bird upon the wing. Udolpho of Milan was the second in distinction, and the two were united by a generous friendship. The last day was a trial of minstrelsy. In this, also, the Knight of the Blooming Rose bore the palm away from all his rivals, both professional and amateur. Accompanying himself upon the harp, he sang spirit-stirring lays which awakened the enthusiasm of all his auditors.

In the evening, the Emperor requested him to give the meaning of his motto, and of the emblem on his shield. Taking the harp, and striking up a bold and brilliant prelude which gradually arranged itself into a simple air of great beauty, he sang as follows:

"Not wealth nor trappings proud, Nor shouts of envying crowd, That swell both long and loud, 'I seek.'

"No jewels from the mine, Nor gold, so pure and fine, Nor generous, sparkling wine, 'I seek.'

"Soft pleasure's bonds are vain-- I feel for them disdain; And still, through toil and pain, 'I seek.'

"It is not kingly crown-- That subjects may kneel down, And tremble at my frown-- 'I seek.'

"To keep my knightly oath, Be faithful to my troth, To God and Jesu both, 'I seek.'

"To help the poor that cry-- To wipe the widow's eye-- To humble tyrants high, 'I seek.'

"The maiden weak to save, To free the Christian slave, And punish impious knave, 'I seek.'

"At noblest deeds I aim. To win a lofty name Upon the roll of fame, 'I seek.'

"To pluck the magic Rose In Hesperus which grows, And fadeless beauty knows, 'I seek.'

"To wear it on my breast-- There may it ever rest!-- Honor and truth to test, 'I seek.'

"To lay it at the feet Of noble lady sweet: For her an off'ring meet! 'I seek.'

"To win fair Edith's praise-- Merit the poet's lays-- Grow nobler all my days-- 'I seek.'"

"And is it really the wonderful Rose of Hesperus which you seek?" asked the monarch: "that magic flower hitherto unplucked by mortals? Bring one to each of my daughters, and I here pledge you my word that you shall wed one of them, if you can gain her consent!" The knight, full of gratitude, knelt down to express his thanks. He then told the Emperor and the listening Edith in what manner he had been led to take the vow to acquire these precious roses, and to place this emblem upon his shield. He had been engaged in defence of his native land against the invader and the oppressor, but his efforts, and those of a small, brave band of friends, had been wholly in vain: his country was crushed by the ruthless heel of despotism. On that night when it had been agreed in assembled council that all resistance was fruitless, and that nothing now remained for patriots but to seek freedom in exile, after tossing in troubled slumbers, he had been visited with a calming and inspiring dream. He saw bending over him a lovely female form, which he knew instinctively to be that of his Guardian Angel. She was clothed in white, and a soft light streamed out from her soul. The morning before the tournament, as he rode along at break of day, he had seen the Princess Edith bending down to speak encouragement to a poor cripple, and he had at once recognized the earthly form of which he had then seen the glorified image. The Angel spoke, and commanded him not to yield to despair: she had work for him still to do. She said that, with her help, he should pluck roses from the Gardens of Hesperus, which mortal man had never yet done. She gave him exact directions how to reach the spot where the invisible gate was placed, through which alone he could enter the charmed Paradise. Only at sunrise, upon the repetition of a form of words, which she gave him, could a brave knight, of unsullied honor and purity, obtain admittance. And only at sunset could he leave, upon reciting the same formula. And then telling him that the accomplishment of this feat would lead to the fulfilment of his destiny, and that a crown yet awaited him, she had suddenly vanished, leaving a smile upon the air.

The next day, having bid adieu to his friends at court, the cavalier departed with his Moorish page. They travelled in a southwesterly direction, towards the Mediterranean Sea. It is worthy of remark, that when they had passed away from towns and populous districts, the page rode alongside of his master, instead of following at his former humble distance. And, miraculous as it may appear, it is very certain that they no longer conversed together by signs, but with audible sounds.

At length they reached the borders of the sea. Following it for a few days, they came to a lofty rock: here they alighted, and searching carefully along the water's edge, the knight perceived a small entrance, so covered up by overhanging grass and ferns that one unacquainted with its existence could never have detected it. Entering, they found themselves in a lofty and spacious cave, where nature had amused herself by uniting in strange confusion the odd and the beautiful. The roof was hung with sparkling stalactites, and wonderful forms were ranged around. There was an organ, with its numerous pipes--but the wind was the only musician. There was a lofty throne--but the king was not yet born who would fill it with dignity. There was a pulpit--but solitude was the only preacher. Strange shapes, like those in a Hindoo rock-temple, were ranged along into the darkness. Stars and flowers of crystal were strewed around, and the grotto looked like a fit abode for sylphids or fairies. The deep blue water formed a lake in the centre, upon the bosom of which a small boat lay sleeping like a swan. When the knight and his page had sufficiently admired the beauties of the place, the cavalier advanced to the edge of the lagoon and called the boat. It instantly waked up, and came like a living thing to crouch at his feet. The two friends stepped into it, and it shot out of the cave into the broad open sea, darting across the water with the speed of the wind. No visible means of motion could be detected; no sail or oars were there in the fairy boat--there was nothing mechanical about it; but it sped on its way like a water-bird or a graceful nautilus. Once, indeed, gazing into deep blue water, the knight fancied that he saw a soft white hand, with rings of pearl and bracelet of coral, guiding it in its course; but if this were not the effect of his heated fancy, the hand was at least speedily withdrawn, and he saw it no more.

When the moon had risen upon the expanse of waters, which reflected her image, breaking it into a thousand fragments--while the waves danced up to greet her bright face, like children clamoring for a mother's kiss--the little boat ran into a quiet inlet, and stopped to let its passengers alight. They rested that night in an orange-grove, and awoke refreshed, to begin their search while the bright morning-star was still shining. At the break of day they arrived at lofty perpendicular rocks, which, after pursuing a straight line, suddenly formed a right-angle. Here the knight and his companion stopped, and turning to the east, awaited the sunrise. At the moment when the glorious orb of day started up from his couch, impatient to commence his course, the cavalier spoke: "Open, thou gate of stone, for the hour has come, and the man." At these words, with a noise like that of thunder, the rock was rent asunder, and a wide passage was opened, through which the friends proceeded. It had appeared to be a lofty chain of mountains, but they were soon at the end of it, and came out into the open air. But an obstacle opposed itself. A huge dragon, Ladon the terrible, reared up his hundred heads, his eyes flashing fire and fury, his mouths emitting baleful flames and pestilential breath, his tail, covered with metallic scales of green, scarlet, and blue, coiling away to a great distance. The page drew his sword; but the knight took a little black book and aimed it at the volcanic heads. It was a Holy Book, and the names therein quenched the threatening fire and quelled the rage of the monster, who sank back exhausted upon the green sod, and slept the sleep of death. "That little book can do more than the sword," remarked the cavalier.

They proceeded onward: the earthly Paradise was unfolded to their view; the air was balmy, and laden with rich fragrance from the numberless flowers around; but instead of filling the spirit with soft languor, and indisposing the body to exertion, the gentle breezes imparted new vigor to the frame, and the buoyant, hilarious feelings of early youth shot through the veins, making the thoughtful eye sparkle, and giving to the grave foot of saddened maturity the elasticity of childhood. A new, unsuspected power of enjoyment was awakened in the bosom of the friends, combining somewhat of the gladness of the child, and the ardor of the youth--qualities, alas, how transitory!--with the appreciating taste and refined feelings of riper years. Many faculties lie dormant in our nature: the capacity for much higher happiness is one of them; and it will be awakened in the breast of all the good in the Resurrection Morn. They may have lain down to die, weary and heart sore, but they shall find that "light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the upright in heart."

With joyful spirits, their eyes drinking in beauty, and their ears harmony, the knight and his comrade moved along, guided by wayward fancy. Here a sparkling, dancing rivulet would entice them to follow its course, amid mossy rocks, flowery banks, and drooping trees, which whispered their secrets to its babbling waves; and then suddenly it would vanish into the earth, like a child playing at hide-and-seek, gurgling a merry laugh at its bewildered followers. At every step a new beauty was unfolded. Now the brilliancy of hue and splendor of coloring in the sky, the flowers, the birds, filled their minds with admiration: but when they wandered into the deep, cool woods, with their sober tints, and their mysterious whispers, they gave the latter the preference. And when they left these green recesses, and viewed the extensive landscape opened before them--gently swelling hills, distant mountains, and the boundless ocean--then they wondered that more limited scenery could have given such entire satisfaction. Climbing among the rocks, wild and sublime views, of a rugged grandeur, prepared their souls for nature's masterpiece, the foaming waterfall. Down the stupendous precipice rolled the torrent, masses upon masses of water, almost lost to the eye in the dark distance below; while, above, the gorgeous rainbow closed it in, as if a crown of glory were bestowed upon it in recompense for its agony. And day and night a voice might be heard from its mighty heart, "I can endure forever and forever." Then the friends felt how deep is that bliss which takes away all words--they felt how great a joy there is in awe.

Descending from these heights, soft scenes of beauty attracted their gaze. The setting sun threw its mellow light over a landscape of Italian character; it seemed as if nature and art were here combined to make perfection. Statues of rare loveliness took them by surprise when strolling over the grassy walks, or sauntering under the deep umbrage of the trees; mossy grottoes, adorned with shells, invited them to repose; unexpected openings in the woods revealed vistas beyond, exciting to the imagination. Lakes of crystal clearness reflected the fleecy clouds, and the snowy forms of the swans upon their azure surface; and gold and silver fishes chased each other through their pellucid waves. Birds of brilliant plumage came there to lave in the pure water, and then shaking off the diamonds from their wings, rose into the air with a gush of melody, pouring out their souls to their Maker. And all gentle and exquisite creatures were met together in that spot, to glad the eye with life--the soft-eyed gazelle, the swift antelope, the graceful stag, the Java deer, smallest of its kind: nothing was absent which could add beauty and variety to the scene.

Amid such innocent joys, drinking in poetry at its very fount, several days were passed, each shorter than the one preceding. Their hunger was satisfied with delicious fruits; and when weary, a natural couch of moss received them, and the trees locked their arms together, and bent over them, as if to keep off all harm, if harm could have existed in that place. It seemed that life could glide away in perfect bliss in those gardens of beauty, where naught repulsive or annoying could enter, and delight succeeded delight. Could glide away, did I say?--not there; for in the centre of that Paradise flowed the fountain of eternal youth, and over its brink hung the bush whose magic roses were famed abroad.

The sight of them awoke the sleeping energies of the noble and resolute knight. "And shall I falsify my motto?" said he. "Shall the bliss of the present satisfy me, while so much remains unaccomplished--while might is triumphant over right, innocence is oppressed, and brute force bears rule upon the earth? Shall I lap my soul in indolent ease while the work of life is before me? Not so: still must I seek what is higher, purer, nobler; still must my heart pant for excellence; still must I learn bravely to endure."

Speaking thus, he plucked three roses from the magic tree, and placed them upon his breast, and as the sun approached the western horizon, the comrades drew near to the gate which separated them from the world of common life. The stony barrier opened before the charmed words, and when they had emerged from its gloom, closed again with a clap of thunder. Never since has mortal man profaned those regions of unclouded happiness.

Their little fairy skiff speedily conveyed them to the cave, and with the early morning they resumed their journey. Their route lay, as before, through an attractive country, and the peasants, in picturesque costumes, were engaged in the various labors of rural life: but how changed did all at first appear! It seemed as if scales had fallen off their eyes, showing coarseness and deformity, where previously none had appeared. They had tasted the rapture of a more beautiful life; and now the ordinary toils of humanity appeared "stale, flat, and unprofitable," and common men and women tedious, rude, and mean. But the brave knight struggled against this feeling. "Shall we be so ungrateful, because a glimpse of the earthly paradise has been vouchsafed us, as to sink into idle, repining dreamers? Shall we allow the visions of fancy, or the charms of nature, to steal away our hearts from human sympathy? Rather let these remembered joys excite us to fresh effort; let the useful and the good be ever clad with beauty, in our eyes; let us act as men, strive and be strong in our rightful purposes, sure that in the end the true will ever prove to be the beautiful." He might have said, in the language of a modern poet,

"I slept, and dream'd that Life was Beauty; I woke, and found that Life was Duty: Was then thy dream a shadowy lie? Toil on, sad heart, courageously, And thou shall find thy dream to be A noonday light and truth to thee."

In due time, they arrived at the imperial court. Some important events had taken place during their absence. The splendors of royalty had not been able to preserve the Emperor from a loathsome disease, from which his attendants fled away in horror. The Princess Clotilda could not endanger her beauty by approaching his side; neither did the cares and toils of a sick-bed comport with her views of life. But Edith now took her rightful position, and by her fearless example recalled those around her to a sense of duty. She was her father's gentle, untiring nurse: his wishes were forestalled, his fretfulness soothed, and his thoughts directed to higher things. She rose in her father's love day by day, as he felt her worth; and bitterly did he now think of the undeserved slight with which she had been treated, while the ungrateful Clotilda had been his pride. He was at present recovering from his illness; but he felt himself unequal to the labors of his position, and had seriously resolved to lay down the crown and sceptre, that he might end his days in peace. He had announced the day when his daughters should fix upon one of the suitors for their hands, and when the assembly of barons and knights should decide upon the successor to his throne.

The Knight of the Blooming Rose was gladly welcomed back to court. In the Emperor's presence, he presented the magic flower to each of his fair daughters,--his own bloomed sweetly upon his breast, proving the purity and fidelity of his heart. Edith's cheek was pale, from her late watchings; but never had she looked more lovely than when she placed the rose upon her bosom; her face was glorified by its expression. And Clotilda's ill-concealed scorn and jealousy not only detracted from her queenly beauty, but the flower paled as it touched her breast--pride and worldliness, and every selfish passion, had swayed her being too long, to be repressed at a moment's notice--like the fumes of poison, they were taking away the life of the precious rose. It was impossible that the contrast should not be noticed: comparisons were made which filled the mind of the despotic Clotilda with rage against her unoffending sister; and the more violent her evil passions became, the fainter grew the perfume of her flower, and the more fading its hue. Not all the flattery of her adorers could restore her equanimity; and her face showed, only too plainly, the workings of the evil spirit within.

At last the day approached when the fate of the empire and of so many individuals was to be decided. Clotilda, meantime, consistent in her desire for universal sway, received the homage of all her admirers, but refused to declare her preference until the day of public betrothal--the day when she proudly expected to be hailed as Empress. Her numerous suitors indulged in flattering hopes, each for himself; while all agreed in pitying the delusion of the rest. The electors met in the audience-chamber, which was splendidly decorated for the occasion: all the dignitaries of the State, and the great nobility were assembled, presenting a very imposing spectacle. The Emperor was seated upon a throne, but the crown and sceptre, whose weight he felt himself unequal longer to endure, lay upon a cushion at his side. The people, in a dense mass, thronged the courtyard of the palace, anxious to know the result of the election, and to hail the new lord of the land.

At the appointed hour, the doors were flung open, and the two royal brides entered, followed by their maids of honor. Clotilda, self-possessed in her proud beauty, looked like a queen indeed. She was magnificently dressed, and the pale, scentless rose upon her breast was almost hidden by diamonds. But many there turned their eyes from her handsome, haughty face, to gaze upon young Edith, who leaned upon the arm of her betrothed, the unknown knight. They wondered that they had never before remarked the exquisite delicacy and sensibility of her countenance, the very exponent of the beautiful soul within, which flashed out brightly as if through a transparent covering. When in repose, the calm and happy expression reminded the beholder of the deep purity and peace of the sunny sky--when moved by passing thoughts and feelings, of the same heavens, ever heavenly, over which the fleecy clouds are driven by the wind, in varying shapes and hues. Edith's dress, though elegant, was as simple as consisted with her rank. The pearls and white jasmine in her hair well became her, and the magic rose upon her breast adorned her as no jewels could, and filled the chamber with its rich, refreshing fragrance. As the sisters stood, one on each side of their father, they might well have passed for types of spiritual and sensual beauty--of heaven and earth.

The Emperor arose, and addressed the assembly. He said that the cares of state weighed too heavily upon his feeble old age, and that his most earnest wishes were now directed to a tranquil retirement, in which he should enjoy the leisure he required for preparations to meet the King of kings. That his daughters were before them--he wished to see the diadem encircling the youthful brow of one, whichever they should choose. But well he knew that a firm and valiant arm was needed to sway the sceptre, and that an experienced mind must govern the nation; and therefore it was his will that the Princesses should this day make known their choice of a consort from among the many candidates for their hands. His younger daughter, Edith, had already plighted her faith, with his entire approval, to the stranger knight. No kingdom awaited her, for her betrothed was a landless exile; but the fame of his valor and wisdom had gone throughout the earth--and in the future husband of his daughter he now presented to them one whom he was proud to claim as a son--Arthur, Prince of Britain, the renowned Champion of Christendom!

At these words, shouts of enthusiastic joy rent the hall. When the tumult was hushed, the Emperor called upon the suitors of the Princess Clotilda to come forward. The rival sovereigns approached, among whom the Duke of Milan was conspicuous for dignity and knightly courtesy. All wished him success; but Clotilda passed him by, and placed her hand within that of the Czar. At that moment, a sound was heard throughout the hushed room, resembling somewhat a deep sigh and an expiring groan--it proceeded from the rose, which fell from her bosom, shrivelled and lifeless. An expression of disdainful rage rendered her face almost repulsive, as she noticed the sensation excited by the circumstance, and the cold, gloomy silence with which her choice was received.

After a short conference, the electors reported that they had chosen Arthur of Britain and the Princess Edith to be their lawful sovereigns. Hildebrand then led them to a balcony, and presented them to the people; and loud and enthusiastic were the shouts of the populace: "Long live our Emperor, Arthur the Brave! Long live the good Princess!" The plaudits were echoed far and wide. The achievements of the noble Arthur, and the kind deeds of "The Good Princess," formed the theme of the fireside-tale in the humble cottage, and of the troubadour's lay in castle and banquetting-hall. Arthur, who in Britain was mourned as dead, or as lying in enchanted sleep with his good sword Excalibar at his side, ready to start up to his country's rescue in some hour of future peril--enjoyed, instead, a happier fate. Long and glorious was his reign: the wicked fled away from his presence, like mists before the sun; the upright rejoiced under his protection, and peace reigned throughout all the borders of the Empire. Excalibar was sheathed: no foes dared to invade the land. Brightly and sweetly bloomed the magic roses, which once grew on the same tree in the earthly Paradise, and which were now seldom far asunder; flourishing, in their transplanted state, upon hearts which diffused a moral Paradise of love and purity around them.

And what became of the imperious Clotilda? Enraged at the decision of the electors, and at her father's acquiescence, she soon left the Imperial court to accompany her lord to his distant empire. There her life passed unhappily enough amid the rude magnificence and brutal amusements of the palace. She did not find that Ivan was easily managed, as she had hoped: fools seldom are--it requires a portion of good sense to perceive our deficiencies, and to allow the superiority of others. They became more and more estranged, both giving way to the evil passions most natural to them. Ivan, indulging in sensual pleasures, became more and more brutified; and Clotilda, yielding up her soul to the dominion of pride, hatred, and violence, became so embittered against her unfortunate husband that she compassed his death by violence, and seized the crown, reigning in the name of her infant son, Constantine. And never, under the most despotic sovereigns, had the iron rule been exercised with more unrelenting vigor than during the reign of Clotilda the Terrible. But a day of vengeance was at hand. A secret conspiracy was formed, at the head of which her young son was placed: the palace was seized in the night, and the murderess was hurried away to a distant fortress, where she spent the remainder of her unhappy life--the victim of her own ungoverned passions.

"How I wish that I possessed such a magic rose!" said Alice Bolton. "It might cure my unfortunate pug nose--I should so love to be beautiful!"

"You own such a rose, my dear girl," said her uncle. "It is invisible, but I often perceive its fragrance. Each one of you carries such an indicator of character and feeling about with you, wherever you go. We may as well call it a rose as any thing else."

"But what can you mean, Uncle? do you mean our tell-tale faces?"

"Nothing else. It is one of the many proofs of beneficent design in the formation of our frame, than we can scarcely help giving a timely warning to others of the evil passions which may fill our breasts. The angry man becomes inflamed or livid with rage before his arm is raised to strike--just as the rattle-snake is heard before he darts upon his victim. And so with the gentle and kind emotions. Friendly feeling softens the eye and soothes the heart before the tongue utters a sound. Then take my advice, my dear nephews and nieces, if you wish to be attractive now, seek moral beauty, and the external will follow, in some degree here below, and completely in a better world. You can afford to wait."