or smoked it, as some slanderous persons that I know prophesied I should.” "By all the powers of beauty, Liese," said the lieutenant, 66 that fairy-like foot is made to wear satin and velvet, and ride in a carriage." "Well, if your honour should happen to know any rich, handsome wooer, who wants a wife "

"That do I, my girl," replied the lieutenant, laying his hand on his heart. "Who do you think it is, now?"

"Nay, I know not. Perhaps Aladdin seeking me by the light of his wonderful lamp; or the spirit of the Hartz-mountains; or—but I am a bad hand at guessing."

"No, none of these, you flighty puss. Some one more real, more substantial. What if I, Lieutenant Grabow, were to woo you? I am rich enough to clothe you in silk and velvet, and love you well enough to gratify your every wish almost before it is uttered."

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"You!" exclaimed Elizabeth, her laughing eyes fixed upon him with a comical look, half wonder, half mirth. "You! You forget that the soup is getting cold; mother is waiting, and I am hungry," and she sprang out of the room. Stop, Liese! another word first! Why, the girl's made of quicksilver, surely. Well, the ice is broken, so now to supper." The smile, however, passed from the lieutenant's lips, and his glittering eyes shot forth looks of hate from beneath the frowning brows as he beheld young Eberhard seated by Frau Margaret; for lovers of his age are only too prone to find a rival in every young man, and his jealous eyes had detected many a little sign, look, and word passing between the young people, which bespoke a greater degree of intimacy than he approved of. However, it suited him now to hide his vexation, and he listened to the story Eberhard was relating with great animation and delight.

Yes, his majesty spoke to me," said the young man, proudly.

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Really!" observed the lieutenant mockingly. "I once heard a fellow boast thus before; and when brought to state what the king had said, it was 'Fellow, get out of my way! !' Margaret looked as if she could have boxed the spiteful old man's ears with great satisfaction; Elizabeth laughed outright; and Eberhard continued, as if he had not heard, to relate how he had met the king and all his suite as he left the church; how they had lost their way, and he conducted them aright; and the king had asked him who and what he was, and thanked him, and had ridden off; and how he had not been able to give the lesson he was going to give, so excited was he by the honour.

"Yes; and this mighty honour cost you eighteen-pence," said Elizabeth. "The king had the best of it, for he found his way at the cost of a few fair words, while you—”

Her father began to speak a blessing on what they were about to enjoy, and all were silent for a few minutes. Then they began conversation again, and Grabow spared no pains to insinuate himself into the good graces of dame Margaret.

He smoothed down all the angles of his character, and attacked her on all her weak points, and confided to her all the particulars relative to a large estate just bequeathed to him in Prussia, asking her advice in a most flattering manner on many points, adding, "Oh! if I could only meet with one to share my fortune during the few years I have to live, and to whom I might bequeath it at my death-a woman like-why should I hesitate ?-like you, Margaret, in heart and disposition, how gladly would I make my fortune minister to her happiness. I said as much but now to your daughter, but—”

He looked round; Eberhard and the maiden were whispering together in the bow-window. Margaret did not speak, but stole a glance at her husband, whose eyes were fixed on the ground. The lieutenant arose, and said "good night," and proposed to Eberhard that they should walk part of the way together; and the young man having no plausible ground for refusal, was feign to consent. Elizabeth offered her little finger when her old lover would have shaken hands, and he took it, saying, "Oh, Liese, give me but this one, and I'll soon get the other four."

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So

"Say you so?" cried the light-hearted girl; then you shall have none. Here, Eberhard, kiss the tip of my finger as Lieutenant Grabow's deputy. I dare not trust him in person. now adieu, honoured sir; your proxy has acquitted himself gallantly. A pleasant good night to you."

The lieutenant muttered a curse, and seizing the young man's arm strode from the house, vowing vengeance in his heart on both of them.

On the following morning Fran Margaret was agreeably surprised by a present of some coffee, and other expensive rarities; and shortly afterwards the donor himself appeared, and soon artfully contrived to lead the conversation from her expressions of gratitude to the channel he wished it to follow. 66 'Say no more about it," he replied. "Of what use is money to me, unless to give away? I have no one to share it with me ; no one to love or care for me."

A man is

"You should take a wife, then. never too old to marry, though a woman may be."

That was the very point to which he wished to bring her, and taking her hand he said, " Listen to me, Frau Margaret. I have saved up twelve thousand gülder; besides that, there is my pension, and my estate in Prussia; so you may judge how well capable I am of making a lady of any woman who becomes my wife. I have long wished for one to love, honour, and care for; and can you not guess on whom my heart is set?"

Dame Margaret knew as well as he did. All night long had she thought over his words. "Tis true he was old, ugly, rough in manners, hasty in temper; but then he was rich, would now become titled, and what might not a young wife make of him? Thus had run her speculations; and thus speculate many mothers who love their children as dearly as she did hers. She had thought, with maternal pride, how nice

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himself.

Such had been her thoughts in the darkness and silence of night, such were they now by daylight. The lieutenant had become a different person in her eyes: he was not so ugly, after all, for a man of his years; his manners were merely the result of the habit of commanding; he must have a generous and good heart, or he would not offer to marry a poor portionless girl, when he must know that with his fortune, many a mother in a far better situation would gladly give her daughter to him. And stimulated by these ideas Frau Margaret smiled and said, "Yes, I could guess; but you do us too much honour. Gracious me! what will the world say if my Elizabeth makes such a great match ?”

"Never trouble yourself about that; nothing is so absurd and unjust as the opinion of the world. But what say you? Will you give me your daughter to wife?"

"To be sure; that is, so far as I have a voice in the matter. But my husband, and-and-" "And Elizabeth, you would say. There you must plead my cause. I know full well that I am not calculated to win a maiden's heart; but I would love and cherish her as my child, as my dearest friend; and my constant study should be how to make her happy. I have already spoken to your husband, and he will consent, provided she does. He will not compel her-God forbid he should! If she will not have me, we must forget I ever thought of such a thing."

"I will talk to her," said the mother, after a pause. "Elizabeth has ever been a dutiful child-"

"And whosoever honours father and mother will not fail to prosper on earth."

"True, true, good sir. I am convinced that my child will be guided by her father's wishes and mine; that she will feel honoured by being sought in marriage by so worthy a man.'

"And directly she becomes my wife I will take care to act as a son would towards you and your husband, and constitute her by will my heiress. But hush!"

The door was suddenly opened, and Elizabeth came in, followed, to the great vexation of Grabow, by the hated musician.

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Here he is, sure enough; and I have lost my wager," she exclaimed.

"How! Have you been betting about me, young lady?" said the lieutenant.

Yes, to tell the truth, we have. Eberhard insisted upon it that he saw you turn down this street, and come in here; and I said it was quite impossible you could have any business here at this time in the morning. But I have lost. When shall I pay you, Eberhard ?" she added

Before any one could speak, Frau Margaret had stepped quickly up to her daughter and snatched her hand from that of Eberhard, exclaiming, "What conduct is this, girl? I like not such flighty behaviour. And you, master Eberhard, would do better to mind your busi ness, if you have any, than go about watching people in and out. Those who have their bread to earn should not waste their valuable time, but work instead of idling about."

"What have I done to deserve these hard words, cousin?" said the young man, colouring with vexation.

"Done! I have seen all the fooling between you and Elizabeth, and am resolved to put an end to it."

Eberhard looked towards Elizabeth, while the flush faded from his cheeks and left them ashy pale. She sprang from her mother's grasp, and leading him affectionately towards the door, said "If they are determined to turn you out, my poor Eberhard, I'll e'en do it myself."

"Wilt thou come here, Elizabeth?” cried her mother.

The maiden looked inquisitively at her parent, and said-"Art thou in earnest, dearest mother?" "Come hither, this instant!" was the reply.

"So-well, go then, good Eberard-something has vexed mother, or she would not speak thus. Come back to supper, and all will be right-you know father loves you as his own son; and you have not a truer friend in the world than Elizabeth.”

"Yes, he may come if he will behave himself; but I will put an end to the folly which has been going on too long."

"What's the matter, wife?" said the sergeant, who now entered.

Margaret was silent, and Grabow replied"It was only that Frau Margaret thought, and very properly too, that people would talk if that young man were for ever seen running after your daughter; and he and you, and all of you know that nothing can come of it, for he would not surely wed a wife, to let her die of hunger. Be reasonable, young man, and do not repay family that has been so kind to you by bringing sorrow on them, and standing in the way of their fortune."

a

"But I love Elizabeth with all my soul-and God would help us!" exclaimed the youth. "Go

your ways, Eberhard!" cried Margaret. "Are you not ashamed to utter such folly? Love indeed!-between two such children. You both want a good whipping to bring you to your senses."

"Gently, my good wife," said Joseph; "the young man means well. At his age it is very excusable to fancy oneself in love, only one must not carry the dream too far."

"Hear me, cousin Spangenberg!" exclaimed Eberard, vehemently. ""Tis true I am poor now, but I am young; the world lies before me;

my love for your daughter will spur me on to exertion, and we shall not want riches to make us happy. Surely you will not give your only child to that old man? You will not break her young heart-wither up her young life by binding her to yon sapless tree? He is a harsh, crafty, bad man, cousin; and Heaven will one day visit his evil deeds on his hoary head.” Silence, boy!" cried the sergeant. Begone, and in silence. I will not hear another word." Eberhard looked at his relative in speechless anguish tears rushed to his eyes, and it required all his fortitude to enable him to restrain

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them. He extended his hand to Elizabeth as a

sign of farewell; and she, who had hitherto stood a silent spectatress of the scene, clasped it in both hers, and met his despairing gaze with a look of affection and hope. "Go, my friend," she said; "though all cast you off, I never will. Rely upon me; I am a soldier's child, and tremble not before evil-I am also obedient to the commands of God. Go, and remember that as my father forbids you his house, you return not until he permits it." She opened the door, and pushed him gently out; then approaching her mother, raised her hand to her lips, and said"I meant not to offend you, dear mother, or to do anything wrong; so forgive me." And, turning to the lieutenant, she added-" And do you really think of taking me for a wife?"

"What a giddy thing!" he replied; "she speaks as indifferently as if it concerned her

not."

"And I feel as indifferently as I speak; only I wonder how you ever mustered the courage to think of such a thing. Just look at me, and then view yourself in that glass; don't you think we are a well-matched pair? Beware-I am a tricksy spirit. Have you never heard of such assuming fair forms by day, and tormenting their victims all night?"

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth! I really am ashamed of thee,' said her mother. "Do hold thy

tongue."

Nay, nay; let her talk. I love to hear her lively chatter. Tell me, my pretty one, have you never heard that there are some magicians who can spell-bind the most mischievous elves? Such an one am I; and I will bind you in Love's softest chains."

The maiden's only reply was a contemptuous shrug of her ivory shoulders, accompanied by a smile of mockery, lighted by a still more mocking glance; and passing to the side of her father, she clasped her hands round his arm, and looking up in his pale, care-worn face, murmured-"Tell me, father dear, must I regard that man there as my future husband?"

"Oh, my good Elizabeth, if thou wouldst, thy father would ever bless thee."

Elizabeth stood in silent thought for a moment, as if weighing in her own mind all that was to her so incomprehensible, then spoke, as if in soliloquy-""Tis strange how the heart can change in one short night! Well; be it so. I am thy child: obedience is my duty, and I will obey. But for you, Sir Bridegroom, again I say, Beware! There is a voice within me says, Evil will come of so ill-assorted an union. The green twig suits not to the shattered tree, but with its verdure mocks the other's decay."

Shaking her finger at him as she spoke, with a look between jest and earnest, she darted into her room and closed the door. The mother scolded aloud, and then apologised for her; but Grabow appeased his future mother-in-law with the assurance that those little ebullitions of mirth and high spirits rendered his future bride peculiarly charming in his eyes. Then he spoke long and loudly, in order that Elizabeth might hear, of his joy at finding his wooing thus prosperous-his delight at being accepted by both parents and child-his plans for the future—his property, settlements, &c., &c. The mother listened with gratified attention, the father in thoughtful abstraction, and every now and then something like a distant mocking laugh might be distinguished. At length he got up to go, and wished to take leave of his bride; but the door was bolted, and the maiden probably asleep, for she neither replied to his fine words nor to her mother's reprimands.

most agreeable light; he no longer smoked, Weeks passed on: Grabow shone in the blusterous habits: his dress was improved, too, swore, drank, or practised any of his former and his person scrupulously neat and clean. Every day he had some fresh present for mother or daughter; and the former accepted them with delight, while the latter threw hers carelessly aside; and one day, when her mother asked if she had no thanks to offer for all this kindness, she replied, "Yes, I'll tell the lieutenant a story in return: There was once a man bought a wild pigeon, and put it in a cage and brought it fresh food and delicacies every day; but the bird sat moping there, and then he scolded and called it ungrateful for all his kindness. cried the poor pigeon, but you only do all this in order that I may prove a more dainty morsel when you kill me!'

Ah,'

"Well, and you shall be my pigeon, Liese," said the lieutenant, taking her dimpled hand, and kissing it. "But I do not intend to kill you, darling; although I could eat you up with kisses. No; I'll tend and caress you, and everything of the best shall be yours."

said,

forward to the moment when he should devour it. At last, thinking it fat enough, he put out his hand to catch it, and twist its neck; but the bird escaped, and finding an open window, flew out and rejoined its mate, who had hovered about every day. For a few moments they sat on a green bough, mocking the man with their delight, flutterings, and cooings, and then off they flew together."

Ánd Elizabeth darted from the room, and her clear laugh rang through the house. The lieutenant looked after her with his deep-set, glittering eyes; and the whole expression of his countenance was so fiendish, that Frau Margaret shuddered, and for a moment forgot his wealth and station, and pitied her young and blooming child as she pictured her beside that old man, who in his present temper resembled a spiteful old ape, more than anything else. Presently he looked up, and said, "Elizabeth has such spirits! Ah, ah, we shall be a merry couple. She has gone out, and, if I mistake not, is now whispering and tittering with that poor devil Eberhard."

"I trust-I hope not: she surely knows herself better," stammered the mother, more than half afraid of her mighty son-in-law. "I have never seen the young man since we forbade him the house surely he dares not come, in spite of our prohibition!"

"Let him alone-let them alone," said Grabow, with a spiteful smile, detaining her as she would have risen to look after them. "He's there safe enough; my ears never deceive me: they are not older, whatever my body may be. Let him take leave of her; it will be his final parting, I can tell him: to-morrow we are to be betrothed." Presently he got up to go, and as he left the house, distinctly saw the form of the young musician flitting away in the twilight before him. Stamping his cane on the ground, he muttered between his clenched teeth, Yes, yes, young sir, I'll find means to settle you. The king wants soldiers; you are a likely figure. Yes, you shall march, and to the sound of your own pipe, if it so pleases you: and you, my dainty, witty damsel, you had better have kept your pretty story to yourself. Laugh on while you may he laughs best who laughs last. Grabow, old as he is, is not such a fool as to suffer a gay gallant to be fluttering about his young wife. No, no; I'll settle that before I sleep the young fellow shall march!" (To be continued.)

RUTH BRADLEY.

A SIMPLE BUT TRUE STORY.

(Ruth died, July, 1844, aged 15, and lies buried in a little village in Kent.)

DIRGE.

Dead Ruth is carried to her grave,

Slow beats the bell, the mourners pass; Summer of year, spring time of life,

Gone in this pleasant time, alas !

Lower her gently in her grave,

Trust her to earth, safely to keep Soft ground below, green turf above, Gone in a pleasant time to sleep.

Dead Ruth is sealed, fast in her grave; Who could go home, she with the worm, Home to warm hearths, did they not know God shut her up, safe from the storm.

Safe from the sickness she has known,

Safe from the awful pangs of dying; Safe from the sins that lose men's souls,

Safe from these storms, dead Ruth is lying.

Leave her with death, leave her with night, Breathe the low prayer of faith to heaven; Back to himself God's lamb is gone,

To us but lent, to angels given !

Ruth was my friend; though one short moon
Shone when we met, and saw us part,
A summer's day alone, with Ruth,
Would have sufficed to win the heart.

A happy country child was Ruth,

With damask cheeks, like wild-rose buds, As merry, brown, and free a child

As ever roamed the sweet, wild woods.

You would have guess'd how fair she was,

Had you been blind, and touch'd her tresses; You would have guess'd her eyes were soft,

And kind and frequent her caresses.

You would have guess'd her dear to all,

And ah! you would have guess'd the truth; For who so welcome in all homes,

So press'd to stay as merry Ruth?

Such eyes as Ruth's are rarely seen,

The eagle's fire found in a dove; Now flashing free, then saddening o'er, Yet bright, or sad, brimfull of love.

Her face indeed might not be true

To all the forms of loveliness; Enough there was to win all hearts,

When grace was not, was tenderness.

And it was warm'd by youth and mirth,

And health and innocence were there; White pearly ears through brown curls peep'd, White shoulders too, when they were bare.

The woods, the fields, the shady lanes, Ruth lived in them; at eve's faint light, 'Twas but to sleep, she sought her home, As wild birds seek their nests at night.

Back in her dreams, through all her walks Her untired soul again did stray; Again she lost her acorn cups,

With ashen keys again did play.

And when the first bright morning beam, With soft, warm touch unlock'd her eyes, Blythe from her bed young Ruth would spring, Dress'd ere the lark had sought the skies.