Beard. It is suspected that thou continuest secretly to perform the rites and services of thy suppressed church. Take heed, therefore. If the offence be proved against thee, thou shalt pay with thy body for thy contumacy. A year's imprisonment in Lewes Castle will teach thee submission."

"Heaven grant thee a more Christian spirit, friend," the clergyman meekly rejoined.

"Friend, quotha! I am no friend of prelatists and covenantbreakers," the other rejoined. "Wilt thou take the National Covenant?"

"Assuredly not," Mr. Beard replied, firmly.

"Begone both of ye!" Colonel Maunsel cried, losing all patience, "and rid my house of your hateful presence."

"You had best lay hands upon us, Wolston Maunsel," the emissary from Goldsmiths' Hall cried, in a taunting and insolent tone. "I should like nothing better."

"Nor I," Thomas Sunne added.

"Be patient, I implore of you, honoured sir," the clergyman cried, "and let them go."

"Show them forth, Martin, or I shall do them a mischief," the colonel cried. Whereupon the two men withdrew, muttering threats, however, as they departed.

As soon as he and Mr. Beard were left alone, Colonel Maunsel gave vent to a fresh explosion of rage.

"Perdition seize these Roundhead miscreants!" he exclaimed. "They have set me upon the horns of a dilemma. How am I to fulfil such contradictory orders? Here is one that tells me I must not stir from home: another, commanding me to come to London. If I obey one, I must perforce neglect the other; and, for my own part, I am well disposed to pay respect to neither."

"I scarce know how to counsel you, honoured sir," the clergyman rejoined. "Truly, it is a most embarrassing position in which you are placed."

"It is more embarrassing than you deem, reverend sir," the colonel returned. "I have not wherewithal to pay the fine imposed upon me, and must borrow the two hundred pounds, at heavy usance, from old Zachary Trangmar, the money-lender of Lewes." "I am grieved to hear it, sir," Mr. Beard observed.

"These bloodsuckers will never let me rest till they have utterly ruined me," pursued the colonel; "and such, I doubt not, is their intent. Their aim is to cripple all true men. Heaven confound their devices!"

"Amen!" the clergyman ejaculated.

"Well! well! the difficulty must be met, and bravely too," the old Cavalier cried-"no tame yielding, or crying for quarter on the part of Wolston Maunsel. I will fight the good fight, so long as there is breath in my body. I must go forthwith to Lewes-it

VOL. XLVI.

2 P

is almost within my prescribed limits-and see Zachary Trangmar. I shall have to give the extortionate old rascal my bond, for he will not trust to the word of a gentleman."

"I cannot become surety for you, honoured sir," the clergyman observed; "or I would willingly be so."

"No, no," Colonel Maunsel exclaimed, hastily. "The old usurer will be content with my own security. Unluckily, it is not the first transaction I have had with him. If the knaves go on plundering me in this manner, I shall have little, beyond my good name, to leave my son."

"And that will be his fairest inheritance, sir," Mr. Beard observed.

"It is not likely to content him, though," the colonel rejoined, with a half laugh. "However, we must hope for better days, though neither you nor I may live to see them, reverend sir. Meanwhile, we must provide for the present. I will ride to Lewes this morning, and Dulcia shall accompany me. John Habergeon will watch over Clavering, and will know how to act, in case of difficulty. To your charge, good sir, I confide the rest of the house during my brief absence."

Mr. Beard bowed, and the colonel arose, observing, that when he last got on horseback, his rheumatism was so bad, that he thought he should never more be able to mount steed; but he felt quite equal to the effort now. Summoning Martin Geere, he bade him cause a couple of horses to be saddled-one of them for Mistress Dulcia. And seeing the old serving-man stare at the unexpected order, he added, "The day is fine, and tempts me to take an hour's exercise on the downs."

"But your honour hath not ridden for more than two months," old Martin stoutly objected.

"No matter, I mean to ride to-day. See that the horses are got ready forthwith."

"I should not have supposed that your honour would like to leave the house just now," Martin persisted. "How says your reverence? When robbers are abroad, it were well, methinks, that the master stayed at home to guard his treasure."

"My honoured friend has good reason for what he doth," the clergyman replied; "and I trust we shall be able to protect the house and all within it, during his absence."

"Nay, then I have nothing more to urge," the old serving-man rejoined.

"Hark ye, Martin," the colonel cried, arresting him; "bid Eustace Saxby, the falconer, hold himself in readiness to go with us; and tell him to bring with him the young Barbary falcon and the merlin that he hath lately manned and lured, and I will try their flight at a partridge. Use despatch, for I shall set forth presently."

567

GERMAN ALMANACKS FOR 1860.

OUR last month's impression contained an article on the French Almanacks for the coming year, and most of our readers will have noticed how much those once so amusing volumes have fallen off in mere amusement. It was a difficult task to cull sufficient matter from them to eke out an article which should prove palatable to the English reader. If the Frenchman is once deprived of the power of making his joke on all classes of society, from the highest to the lowest, he is the dullest animal in creation. Now, when the French press has received the mot d'ordre to be dully decorous, the almanacks, formerly welcomed with delight by everybody, have suffered a most unwelcome change. The esprit has been fettered, and the weight of the chains has put a sudden end to its becks, and nods, and wreathed smiles.

This is not the case with the German Almanacks, for they always pursue the even tenor of their way, and never rise beyond the safe region of mediocrity. Of course, they contain no sparkling writing; the jests are the mildest possible, as we shall have occasion to show presently, and the principal object is to convey instruction in the form most suited to the rustic capabilities. It must be borne in mind, that the almanacks in Germany circulate almost exclusively in remote districts; they form the sole reading of the peasant, and necessarily a large portion of the contents is devoted to information requisite for him. The almanack is always accompanied by extracts from the Hundred Years' Calendar, and in most cases, by the peasants' rules for the weather, which convey information in the quaintest rhymes, easy of recollection. Here is a specimen or two: "Dog-days bright and clear, prophesy a good year." January little water, much wine; much water, little wine." "At the beginning or the end, March is sure its pest to send." "A cool May brings good wine and hay." "Before St. John's, all pray for rain; after St. John's, it causes pain."

"In

Of the numerous almanacks lying on our table, Auerbach's is certainly the most perfect, for it never departs from the object designed-namely, to impart to the peasants political and social information in the guise of a story. This year the old professor effects his purpose by a tale called "The Prize Ploughman," admirably adapted to the meanest capacity, and yet conveying an excellent moral. We trace in it the honest lad who gains a silver watch for ploughing the straightest furrow, and from that moment he knows no peace. His fellow-servants are jealous of him, he fancies himself not sufficiently esteemed by his master, and throws up his situation. But, when out of work, he finds that the flattering offers made him by the gentlemen present at the prize ploughing were so much empty wind, and after many simple yet painful adventures, he is glad to return to his old master. At the close of the story, we find him enlisting as a volunteer for the war against France in August last. Indeed, it is very curious to notice through all these almanacks that the word patriotism, in the German sense, means detestation of the Frenchman. We will make one extract from this almanack, in the shape of a paper by

Karl Andrée, on Lagerbier in America, because it possesses a general interest.

The German Lagerbier has long since made a voyage round the world. Bock, from Bavaria and the Erzgebirge breweries, is sent to Batavia, in Java, and Canton, where it is found on the table side by side with the Californian Lagerbier. When the late war stopped the Lloyd's steamers running between Trieste and Egypt, many complaints were heard both in Cairo and Alexandria, among Europeans as well as Levantines, for the casks of Viennese Lagerbier no longer arrived. The quantity German brewers can produce in Egypt, during the summer months, even with the splendid Nilotic barley, is scanty enough, and bears no comparison with the beer direct from Germany. But the Lagerbier has met with an equally warm reception in cold countries; it suits the palate of Muscovite and Scandinavian, and even many Englishmen prefer it to the heavy ale and porter. In Flanders and Brabant it stands on a level with the renowned Ghent and Brussels Faro. It is brewed by Germans in Constantinople and Madrid; even Sydney and Valdivia have their German breweries. Otto Esche, the first German merchant who plied the first German vessel from San Francisco across the Pacific to the mouth of the Amur, reports that Mandjurs and Chinese, Uralian Cossacks and Mongolians, delight in drinking German beer, which is splendidly brewed in California. Kamemahema IV., King of the Sandwich Islands, has always evinced a decided partiality for it. But it is in America that Lagerbier has gained the greatest extension, and with such beneficial results that we cannot refrain from quoting a passage in proof:

The Americans gradually learned from us to drink Lagerbier. The German beverage forced its way by slow degrees, and has become a social power as opposed to King Alcohol; and it evicts spirits far more effectually than any Maine Liquor law can do. Many of the higher Yankees now join the musical societies and gymnastic unions. Among the Germans they find a better tone prevalent than among their own countrymen. German song has even subdued the rowdies. Some months ago, on the occasion of several song-societies making an excursion, they offered themselves as a guard of honour, and, characteristically enough, "to knock down anybody who disturbed the festivities." They kept their word; were rewarded with Lagerbier, as they had promised not to drink any spirits on that day, and remained sober. Gardens devoted to beer and music are beginning to grow quite fashionable among the Yankees. I will not assert that there are none of our countrymen who do not drink a drop too much. One of them, when called before the committee to prove that Lagerbier could not fall beneath the provisions of the Maine Liquor law, as not being an intoxicating drink, brought witnesses to prove that he had drunk more than eighty glasses in one day, yet remained in possession of his senses. That was a settler.

To show the enormous quantities of Lagerbier brewed in America, we may mention that St. Louis-a town containing sixty thousand Germans, and eighty thousand non-Germans-counts no less than thirty-five breweries, which last winter produced one hundred and fifteen thousand barrels of Lager, and seventy-four thousand of light beer, valued at 1,336,000 dollars. In addition to this quantity, fifty thousand more barrels were brought to St. Louis from Milwaukie, Belleville, Pittsburg, and other towns. Before quitting this subject, we will quote a right

merry jest a German told a Yankee who desired to know the origin of Lagerbier :

In a little village near Bamberg-on-the-Maine there lived a cobbler, and he felt thirsty, so he said to his apprentice, "Thou, go and fetch me a bottle of Bamberg beer." It was to be had at the village hostelry, but the lad, who did not know this, as he had only just been apprenticed, went to Bamberg, and was away, of course, a considerable time. While returning home a boy met him, and told him his master was so angry, that he might look out for a thrashing. What did the fellow? He did not go to the cobbler, but among the soldiers, but beforehand buried the bottle at the foot of a tree. By his bravery he was soon promoted to be an officer, and, as such, came to Bamberg. Thou shouldst pay thy old master a visit," he thought, "and prove to him what has come of thee." So he mounted his horse, and on the way stopped at the tree where he had buried the beer. When he reached the village, he said, "Here, master, I bring you the bottle of beer which I went to fetch for you." The cobbler did not understand the meaning of this, till the officer opened his eyes. Both drank the beer, which had lain so many years under the tree, and found it famous. The story became known, the brewers began from that time to make cellars in the rock in which the beer was to lie, and this was the origin of the noble, much-praised Lagerbier.

But the stories we like most in the German Almanacks are those relating to historical events, and generally turning on the history of Frederick William I. of Prussia, who is the favourite of the nation. There was something thoroughly German even about his stick, and the remembrance that he raised the Prussian people to such an elevation by his energy renders the people to his virtues very kind, to his failings rather blind. Every year one or the other of the almanacks contains a story, having him for the hero; this year Trenwendt is the fortunate man, and the story called "Good Morning, Master Gatekeeper," is so characteristic, that we will make an analysis of it.

Master Gregory, who was porter of the town gate at Potsdam in the reign of that severe monarch to whom we have alluded, was the most unfavourable specimen of his class to be found throughout Germany, and that was saying a good deal. He had a habit of keeping the market people waiting outside for hours, and the worse the weather was, the more the old sinner enjoyed it. While the icy snow was cutting their faces, and they stood shivering with cold, he would wrap himself up more closely in his blankets, and turn a deaf ear to their complaints and execrations. In those days a gatekeeper was an important personage; he had not only to open and close the gate, but also the control of the octroi duties, so that he could do pretty well as he pleased. Hence, the poor peasants did not dare say a word, and even accepted a dose of stick with passive resignation. If they wished to live in peace, they found it best to pay a separate tax, which went into Master Gregory's pocket. Many a lump of butter, and many a young fowl, found their way his larder, so that no wonder the gatekeeper considered himself the greatest personage in Prussia. His daughter Marie, a charming young girl, would often take compassion on the poor people, and offer to let them in; but her father never consented, and such a proposition was usually greeted by a shower of oaths from the old bear.

into

Marie had her reasons for keeping in with her father, for she was in love with a soldier in the Guards, one Wilhelm Dorn, the handsomest