young fellow in garrison. But she had never breathed a word of this to the old man, for he would have been horrified at the thought of his daughter marrying a private. The mere idea would have given him a stroke of apoplexy. At that time there was a universal prejudice against the troops, perhaps not unjustly, for they were recruited from the vagabonds of all countries. Such a set could only be kept in order by the severest discipline and iron severity. Order could only be maintained by the most frightful punishments, and it is almost impossible to form a notion of the barbarity of the articles of war in those days. Running the gauntlet ten times was the lightest punishment, and any one who dared to complain was flogged to death's door. A deserter had his nose and ears cut off, or else he was hanged; the same fate befel every one who helped a deserter to fly: he was strung up without mercy. Hence, the Prussian army contained very few volunteers, and Wilhelm Dorn was not one of them-he was a clergyman's son, carried off by the royal crimps in consequence of his height, and yielding to the inevitable, he had done his duty properly, and was in daily expectation of his promotion. Under these circumstances he decided on waiting upon old Gregory, and asking his daughter's hand. The gatekeeper was furious at the insult, and repulsed him most harshly. The poor fellow went off in a very desponding mood, which was heightened by a letter he received from Marie, in which she told him that her father meant to marry her next day to their neighbour, the fat baker. This was too much for Wilhelm, and he determined on committing suicide. For this purpose he loaded his trusty firelock and walked down to the banks of the Havel, after leaving a farewell note for Marie. Suddenly he heard voices in his vicinity, which he fancied he recognised, and, on drawing nearer, he saw several men belonging to the Guards, whom he overheard plotting the king's death. It was agreed that the monarch should be shot the next morning at parade with a silver bullet, after which the town would be fired and plundered. The conspirators then separated, leaving Wilhelm to hurry at full speed to the barracks and denounce the plot. But, to his horror, no sooner had he arrived than he was arrested on a charge of attempted desertion by suicide; his letter to Marie had been opened on his being found to be absent without leave. In vain did he ask to be allowed an interview with the officer of the guard: he was thrust into the dungeon, and left to brood over the punishment that awaited him next day.

When the gaoler visited Wilhelm, the latter prayed so earnestly to see an officer, that the man fancied he must have gone out of his senses, and fortunately sent for the surgeon, to whom Wilhelm imparted the secret. The surgeon hurried to the palace, and begged to speak with the king, who was in a terrible state of alarm at the message, for he thought that Fugleman Jonas, the tallest man in the regiment, must have been taken dangerously ill. When he found himself mistaken, he raised his stick to thrash the surgeon, after his pleasant manner, but the latter managed to get out of arm's length in time, stating that he had come about non-commissioned officer Dorn. "A good soldier too," the king remarked, parenthetically, "and nearly six feet high;" for he knew every man in the regiment. On hearing that he had meditated suicide, the king broke out in a furious passion, and ordered him five hundred lashes on the spot. But when the

surgeon told the king of the conspiracy he had detected, the old gentleman grew serious, and went straight to the prison to cross-examine Wilhelm in person. The king had only recently been deceived by the notorious Baron Clement, but had taken his revenge by having the baron's flesh tweaked with red-hot pincers, and his hand cut off. But Wilhelm was steadfast, and the king proceeded to make inquiries into the truth of his story. The conspirators were convicted, and the grateful monarch asked the non-commissioned officer what reward he expected. All he wished was for his majesty to speak to gatekeeper Gregory about Marie on his behalf, and to this the king consented, if she were only tall enough. He could not spoil his breed of soldiers from any nonsensical love considerations. Having received a satisfactory reply on this point, the king promised to see what could be done, and left Wilhelm in high spirits.

The next morning, while the gatekeeper was still snuggling in his bed, according to his custom, the king made his appearance at the gate, with his heaviest walking-stick in his hand, for he thought some gentle argument of that sort might be required. He found there a crowd waiting to enter the town, and inquired the reason. On hearing it, the king made such a hammering at the gate that it would have wakened the dead. But it was of no avail with old Gregory: so Frederick William had to lift up his leonine voice, which made his whole court and family tremble. Still Gregory, happily unconscious of his visitor, bided his time, thinking what a thrashing he would give the peasants when he let them in for making such a row. At length he threw back the gates. "Good morning, master gatekeeper!" the king said, as he walked in, and gave him a tremendous thrashing, while the delighted peasants ironically repeated the greeting. In vain did Gregory roar for mercy: the king did not leave off till he was tired. After a rest, during which he read the gatekeeper a moral lesson on the impropriety of keeping the peasants shivering in the cold, he began again, and went on till Marie fell on her knees and implored for mercy. At length the king said he would pardon him if he would give his daughter to sub-officer Dorn. Gregory offered some objections, but the sight of the uplifted stick removed them, and the king himself joined the hands of the young couple. Then he offered to make Wilhelm quartermaster, and give him a house, on condition that he delivered a young recruit in every year, and promised, when he wished to die, only to do so for his king and fatherland. On these considerations his majesty was graciously pleased to pardon Master Gregory, and from that time forth he was a model porter. Even if he felt inclined for another snooze, it only required the cry of "Good morning, master gatekeeper!" to make him spring up at once.

In Nieritz's Almanack we find no specialty deserving notice: the stories are good, and well adapted for the readers, but are too lengthy for extract. We can only find space for an excerpt from the "Historical Curiosities," which certainly deserve to be treasured up, as throwing a light on the manners and customs of the middle ages:

Among the Hanse towns, Bergen, albeit the youngest settlement, occupied the highest place, and any one who wished to be a real merchant must have passed his apprenticeship at Bergen. The rush there was so great that the Bergener had to invent measures to stop it, and none could have been more effectual than the novitiate they introduced, and which lasted for eight years. The first trial

was the "water-sport." The naked novice had a rope fastened round his waist, was then thrown into the sea from the stern of a vessel, and dragged all along the keel under water. This ceremony was repeated thrice. Naturally, the apprentice was half dead; but this did not prevent his being laid at once on a bench and thrashed into life by four powerful fellows, till the blood poured from him, and a merciful fainting fit saved him. If the novice still adhered to his determination of becoming a merchant of Bergen, he had next to endure the "smoke sport." A rope was again fastened round his waist, and he was suspended up a chimney. A slow fire, fed with all sorts of pestiferous materials, threatened him with death by suffocation, but he was not let loose till the fire had burned down: then came another thrashing, in no way inferior to the first in severity. If the novice had escaped this trial with his life, the "rod sport" followed. The enduring apprentice was stripped of all his clothing in a half, where women were usually among the audience. Four disguised ordered him to dance to noisy music. Suddenly four others made their appearance with rods, and began to belabour the dancer to the tune of the music, which grew quicker. The blows fell thick as hail, and only left off either when the recipient fell unconscious to the ground, or when the arms of his torturers were exhausted.

Somewhat amusing, too, in the same almanack, are the extracts from albums kept in places of public resort. Thus, at Schiller's birth-house in Warbach: G. W., from the United States, Ohio, North America, 1843.-Good poet. F. C., from Cologne, remembers the celebrated poet Friedrich von Schiller. H. H., of Bavaria, soap-boiler's apprentice, finds himself "felt" at being in the great poet's birth-house. Peace be to his ashes! Here, again, from the Brocken. N.B. This is what S. H. Bauer, of Vienna, has honestly to claim from Master Brocken: 1. The loss of twice four-and-twenty hours; 2. Of many thousand drops of perspiration; 3. The exhaustion of all healthy limbs; 4. The loss of taste through a bad dinner; 5. Of scent by a fearful stench of brandy and tobacco; 6. Of sleep for a whole night; 7. A cloak, a pair of trousers, stockings, and shoes, and a round hat totally spoiled. Credit: a sunset and a sunrise, but I must place to the debit side a misty evening, and a rainy and snowy morning.

From the same almanack, too, we may take some specimens of the "pictorial jests," as examples of German humour, although they naturally lose by the absence of the drawings. In one we find two very drunken gentlemen conversing. Says A. to B.: "I seriously recommend you not to drink so much beer o' nights, it makes a fellow quite stupid; I know that by my own experience." Here, again, is a father giving his little daughter good moral advice: "My child, you must never forget that only those ought to eat who also work." To which innocently replies the child: "But, father, you eat!" Another characteristic sketch : a boy says to his father, a very intoxicated-looking cobbler, "Why, father, do you wash your toes with schnapps?" "You stupid dog, because they are frostbitten." Then your stomach is frostbitten too ?" Here, too, is a very neat one: An old gentleman, in dressing-gown and Turkish cap, holding his finger cleverly to his nose, is conversing with his wife, who remarks: "My dear husband, how is Julius to receive the parcel when you do not know his address ?" "What a stupid fellow I am," the sage replies; "of course, we must send him the letter first." Here is another: a stern official is cross-examining a delinquent: "So you were present at the row in the Coliseum last night?" "Of course I was; but I tell you at once, Sir Actuary, that I intend to reserve my

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alibi." And so they go on, all running, after the Irish fashion, on bulls. For instance, is not this truly Paddyesque? "Lina, have you been to see whether the barometer has fallen ?" a lady equipped for a drive asks her servant. "Lord bless you, no, marm, it is still hanging on the wall!" Here is another story, old enough, but redeemed by a capital drawing. Imagine a town councillor returned from a meeting, where his motion has been refuted. Says he to his wife: "The rogues! the scoundrels! but I told them, though, something which will make them remember me for life." 66 But, good gracious, husband, in your passion you will have salted our soup nicely." "What! oh, don't be frightened about that, not a soul heard me." The last of the series is, perhaps, the best. A very stout, well-to-do gentleman is sitting at a magnificent dinner, and reading the paper between the courses. "Ah!" he says, with a heartfelt sigh, "in Schwarzenberg the people only consume sixteen pounds of meat per head during the year. Why, that is really dreadful. Poor folk! I wonder if I could help them were I to go there?”

A ROMANCE OF THE OLD SCHOOL.

A FEW months ago it was our painful duty to make some rather sharp remarks in this magazine with reference to Madame George Sand's novel, "Elle et Lui," because we thought that she had stepped beyond the courtesy which authors should show to each other. Nor were we singular in our animadversions; the French press generally reprobated the growing evil of converting private grievances into printer's "copy," and we are glad to find that Madame Sand has accepted the warning in a proper spirit. Her latest novel, "L'Homme de Neige," is an attempt to imitate the thrilling romances of Mrs. Ratcliffe and her school; and, better still, the morality has been preserved. There is not a situation in these two volumes which might not be read by everybody, and they therefore offer an opportunity, rarely found, for studying the peculiar graces of Madame Sand's style.

The scene is laid in Sweden in the middle of the last century, and we are introduced to an old castle, which bears the reputation of being haunted, but in which a certain Christian Waldo and his servant, performers of marionettes, had been obliged to take shelter. They had been summoned to perform at the new castle belonging to Baron Olaus von Waldemora, but owing to the château being crowded with guests, they were compelled to pass the night in the haunted castle. On arriving there, however, they knocked in vain for the bailiff to open to them; he was very deaf, and nothing would have induced his son Ülph to go out in the dark, for fear of meeting ghosts. Hence the two strangers climbed the outer wall and entered the grand hall, where they found a fire already laid, but nothing to eat. Under these circumstances, Christian ordered his servant to go back to the other castle to obtain provisions, while he remained alone. While walking about the hall he noticed a door opening

into a narrow passage, and, in a spirit of adventure, proceeded on a tour of discovery.

While thus engaged, another visitor made his appearance at the castle, in the shape of Herr Goëfle, an eminent solicitor, who had been summoned by the baron on urgent private affairs, and, not caring for festivities, had decided on passing the night at the old château, which he had often visited before. He, too, entered the hall with his servant, a little foot-page of ten, where he awaited the arrival of supper, while unpacking his clothes for the purpose of proceeding to the château, and paying his respects to the baron. The boy, though, was worn out with fatigue, and the good old gentleman conveyed him to the bedroom, where he put him to rest. But the boy could not bear to be left alone-he had heard so much of the ghosts-and so the lawyer kindly sat down by the fireside, waiting for him to sleep. In the mean while he drew some law papers from his pocket, and was soon so engaged with them that he forgot all else.

During this time Christian had returned to the hall, and was not sorry to find the lawyer's fur cloak and cap lying on a chair, for the fire had burned low. He had found on his tour the way to the pantry, and was just going to fall-to on the smoked salmon and reindeer tongue, when the sound of a sledge driving into the court-yard disturbed him. Before long a lovely young girl entered the hall, and addressed him as Herr Goëfle. He was too fond of an adventure to undeceive her, and, therefore, listened patiently to her story. Her aunt insisted on marrying her to the Baron Olaüs, and she had a repulsion from a man who, justly or unjustly, was regarded as the assassin of his brother and his family, who had all died suddenly and mysteriously. Christian promised faithfully to do all in his power to dissuade the baron, and the young lady returned to the hall somewhat comforted. With Christian, however, it was a decided case of love at first sight: he longed to join the fair creature, but how could he, a travelling mountebank, dare to venture among the haughty company, for whose amusement he had been summoned? While revolving these things, his eye fell on the lawyer's dress suit, hung across the back of a chair, and his resolve was promptly formed. He dressed himself rapidly, went to the stable, put-to the lawyer's horse, and hastened to the new château on the wings of love. But, here, a new difficulty beset him; he had no card of invitation, and without that he could not enter. Mechanically thrusting his hand in his pocket, he found the card belonging to the lawyer, which he handed to the major-domo with consummate impudence, announcing himself as the nephew of Herr Goëfle, educated in foreign parts, and only just returned to Sweden.

The handsome young stranger excited quite a sensation among the primitive nobility, and he very skilfully worked himself into the good graces of the party, not excepting Marguerite's aunt, the Countess Elfrida. In fact, he soon so won on that lady that she made him the confidante of her schemes, and urged him to induce her niece to accept the brilliant offers made to her by the baron. We need not say how gladly he accepted the part offered him, and before long Marguerite and himself were on the most friendly terms. The young lady had alleged the excuse of a sprained ankle, to escape dancing with the baron; but she regretted it too late, when she noticed the charming cavalier who