streets, with the high houses, the heavy windows, and the lamps hanging across the road, bring one back to those days when the burghers of Frankfort had not unfrequently to buckle on armour in defence of their commerce against the predatory nobles around, when Diets met within the sheltering walls of the town, and Emperors were elected in the old cathedral, and feasted in imperial state in the town-hall. These two build ings are amongst the most curious of the city; with little of architectural beauty to recommend them, they yet have a quaint and imposing air, which at once strikes the spectator, and one cannot help pausing for a moment to reflect on all they have seen, the changes they have witnessed, and the centuries that have passed, since they were the arena of lordly pomp and political strife.

The finest part of the old town, I think of the whole city, is by the side of the river Maine. The houses here are of many stories; and as a friend of mine lived in one a good way up, I had the advantage of enjoying the view from his windows. Here, on the opposite side of the stream, is the ancient suburb of Saxenhausen (originally a colony of pagan Saxons transported thither by Charlemagne), its venerable looking houses washed by the river; beyond lie gardens and verdant hills, and beneath you is the Maine, crowded with barges, and bordered by the busy wharves-whilst across it stretches the old bridge, one of the most picturesque in Germany, with its huge mouldering but still sturdy piles, overgrown by parasitic climbers. This has always appeared to me one of the finest street views in Germany, and I would advise any one who can to see this view from one of the uppermost stories of these houses; it will amply repay the trouble, to say nothing of the curious character of the houses themselves. They cannot, however, be very pleasant residences in winter, for, if the river rises, they are inevitably flooded ;-my friend told me, that, for a considerable time during last winter, he had been obliged to row up to the first floor in a boat, a mode of entry which may be pleasant enough in Venice, but must, I should think, be quite the reverse here.

In the centre of the bridge stands an old statue of Charlemagne, of red stone, and very rude workmanship. Passing it one evening, and observing its appearance of great antiquity, the thought struck me to ask whether there were no traditions as to its being in the habit of walking, a custom to which old statues in all places are so much addicted. My friend, in reply, told me the following story, for the truth of which, however, I do not pretend to vouch.

Once upon a time there dwelt in one of the little streets which run down to the bank of the Maine, a cobbler named Hans Fuchs, or as we should say, Jack Fox. He was a good-hearted merry little fellow, a favourite with every one, and so good a workman that he must have thriven had it not been for one unfortunate failing which threatened to be his ruin. Hans was a great deal too fond of good beer, and many a customer he lost and many a pair of boots he spoiled in consequence. In vain did his mother scold and his wife entreat, Hans could not get over this weakness.

One night the little cobbler was returning home from a tremendous jollification; it was his Saint's festival, and he thought he was in honour bound to be merry on that day; not that he was thoroughly drunk, for, as he kept repeating to himself, it was impossible it should be so, since he was perfectly aware that he was anything but sober. However he staggered along, with some difficulty keeping out of the river, till he came to the bridge. The moon was shining brightly, and the old statue of the Emperor stood out in strong relief against the dark houses on the other side. Somehow the idea struck Hans that he would go and have a look at the figure before finally returning home. Accordingly he walked over to the centre of the bridge, and leaning against the parapet, stood gazing intently at the statue. He was quite alone, and might have remained there a

few minutes, when the cathedral clock solemnly tolled out the hour of twelve. Scarcely had the last stroke died away in the air, when, to the cobbler's astonishment, the stone Emperor nodded, as if beckoning to him; he could not believe his eyes; but the motion was distinctly repeated. Hans, however, could not leave the friendly wall which supported him there were more reasons than one for this. What then was his horror when the statue, gradually swaying itself to and fro, at length descended from its pedestal, and moved across the bridge to where he stood paralyzed with terror!

"Who art thou, fellow?" asked the figure in a hollow voice, which curdled the cobbler's blood.

"A poor cobbler, Hans Fuchs, please your Majesty," was the tremulous reply.

"Art thou a native of Frankfort?"

"Yes."

"And a good Catholic?" "Yes."

So say.

"Good. Bear up our train, and follow me.' ing, the statue turned, and made as if it would proceed towards the city.

Hans hardly knew how to act. A train carved out of stone was a thing which scarcely required to be borne up; but, on the other hand, the commands of a moving and speaking statue were not to be despised. So, stooping down, he took hold of the train and followed the Emperor; the stiffness of this article of dress having at least this advantage, that Hans, by leaning against it, made a shift to proceed much more steadily than he could otherwise have done. They crossed the bridge, and entered the city, the cobbler wondering all the time what had become of the town-watch, not one of whom was to be seen the streets, too, were quite deserted,— there was not even a light in any one window. Thus they passed along in silence and solitude till they stood beside the Saalhoof, that huge, gloomy building erected on the site of the old Carlovingian Palace. Here they stopped, and the statue spoke again.

Mortal," it said, "know that here lies a mighty treasure, bound under a tremendous spell, which I alone can loose. The counter spell can be taught only to one who meets me alone at midnight on the bridge, and who must be a native of this town, a good Catholic, and free from taint of drunkenness. Thou art all these three?"

Now, had this question been put to honest Hans on the bridge, he would at once have confessed the state he knew himself to be in, and been glad to have got off so cheap. But he had natural courage enough to say nothing of the Dutch article, and his walk had familiarized him with the statue; besides, the treasureshould he give that up for a pardonable fib? Thoughts of Hochheimer and Johannisberg, instead of washy beer, passed through his mind, and he answered at once,— "Ja wohl."

"

'Good, then,” replied the statue. "Repeat the verses after me

'When the night-bird shrieketh dread,

And the graves give up their dead."

But the additional courage which Hans now felt had one evil effect,-so long as he was in extremity of terror, he was comparatively sober; but his sobriety fled with his fear, and he now could scarcely stutter out with a hiccup

"When the dead bird,-what is it? Donnerwetter!" Wretch, thou art drunk!" cried the statue, with a hideous frown.

"Not drunk, your Majesty; only jolly," replied Hans with a shout, and an attempt at a reverence.

"Miserable man, receive the reward of thy folly," answered the Emperor; and, raising his heavy stone sceptre, he struck the cobbler such a stunning blow on the head, that he reeled and fell senseless to the ground. As he awoke from his insensibility he felt a sensation

of intense pain in the head--ten thousand lights danced around-and a rough voice called out

Potz tausend, the drunken schelm has fallen against the kerb-stone and cut his head open."

He was lying on the bridge, opposite the old statue, which stood grim and motionless. Around him were some of the city guard, who took him to the watch house, where his head was bound up.

Next morning Hans went home to his wife, a sadder but a wiser man; for, from that day, he never was intoxicated again. Drink, he said, had been the cause of his losing the spell-bound treasure, and that was an injury which must part the best of friends. Hans' wife said nothing; but, in her own mind, she thought he had got a far greater treasure, for he had got-sober.

So there is my story of the statue on the bridge of Frankfort; and I dare swear it is as genuine a legend as one half of those told in the Guide-books.

THE CAVERN OF YEERMALLIK.1 THE following account of this remarkable natural curiosity will be new to most of our readers, as the book from which we extract it, Captain Bursiem's Peep into Toorkisthan, has only just issued from the press. Alter giving an account of his journey from Cabul to the Doaub in Toorkisthan, the author thus proceeds:—

The following morning, as we were preparing to start, I happened to enter into conversation with an aged Moolan, the solitary cicerone of the Doaûb, who gave us a brief but very extraordinary account of a cavern about seven miles off. Our curiosity was so much excited by the marvellous details we heard, that we determined to delay our departure for the purpose of ascertaining how much of his story was due to the wild imagination of our informant. We accordingly gave orders to unsaddie, and communicated our intentions to the Khan. At first he strongly urged us not to put our plan into execution; declaring that the cave was the domicile of the evil one, and that no stranger who had presumed to intrude upon the privacy of the awiul inhabitant had ever returned to tell of what he had seen. It will easily be imagined that these warnings only made us more determined upon visiting the spot. At length, finding our resolution immovable, the Khan, much to our astonishment, declared that it was not from personal fear, but from anxiety for our safety, that he had endeavoured to deter us, but that, as we were obstinate, he would at least afford us the advantage of his protection, and accompany us. I confess we were not sanguine in our expectations that he would keep his word, and were not a little surprised to see him shortly after issue forth from his fort, tully armed, and accompanied by his principal followers. We immediately made all necessary preparations, and started on our Visit to his Satane majesty.

A bridle-path conducted us for some miles along the edge of a gentle stream, whose banks were clothed with long luxuriant grass extending on either side for a few hundred yards. We proceeded rapidly at first, keeping our horses at a hand gallop, as the path was smooth, and also to escape from the myriads of forest flies or bloodsuckers, which were perpetually hovering around us, and irritating our cattle almost to madness when ever we were obliged to slacken our pace; our tormentors, however, did not pursue us beyond the limits of the pasture land, so that we were glad to exchange the beauties of the prairie for the stony barren ground which succeeded it. We soon reached the base of a hill, from whence the wished for cavern was visible, situated

(1) From "A Peep into Toorkisthan," by Captain Rollo Burslen, London. Richardson, 1846.-A book in which will be found many entertaining particulars regarding a country which recent events have made of much interest in England.

about half way up its face. We were now obliged to dismount, and leaving our horses under the charge of an Uzbeg, who could hardly conceal his delight at being selected for the least dangerous duty, we commenced the ascent.

During our ride, I had endeavoured to gather a few more particulars concerning the dreaded cavern, and, as might have been expected, the anticipated horrors dwindled away considerably as we approached it; still, enough of the marvellous remained to keep my curiosity on the stretch. Shah Pursund Khan confessed that he was not positive that the devil actually lived there, but still he said it was very probable; he had first heard of the existence of the cave when he obtained possession of the Doaûb, twelve years ago, from the very Moolah who was our informant. Urged by a curiosity similar to our own, he had ventured some little distance inside, but suddenly he came upon the print of a naked foot, and beside it another extraordinary impression, which he suspected to be from the foot of Sheitan (the devil) himself; quite satisfied that he had gone far enough, he retreated precipitately, and from that day to this had never intruded again. He argued, that any human being living in the cave would require sustenance, and of course would purchase it at his fort, which was the only one where the necessaries of life could be procured for many miles around; but he knew every one that came to him, and no stranger had ever come on such an errand; he therefore concluded with an appealing look to the Moolah, who was with us. The Moolah, however, had a tale of his own to tell, and seemed to have no great respect for the superstitious fears of his patron. The name of the cavern is Yeermallik, and the fact of the matter is this," said he, settling himself in his saddle for a long story. In the time of the invasion, six hundred years ago, of Ghengis Khan the Tartar, seven hundred men of the Husaren tribe, with their wives and families, and a stock of provisions, took possession of this cavern, hoping to escape the fury of the ruthless invader, and never stirred beyond its mouth. But the cruel Genghis, after wasting the country with fire and sword, set on foot a strict search for such of the unfortunate inhabitants as had fled from his tyranny. His bloodhounds soon scented the wretched Husarehs, and a strong party was sent to drive them from their place of refuge. But despair lent to the besieged a courage which was not the characteristic of their tribe, and, knowing that, if taken alive, a lingering torture and cruel death would be their fate, they resolved to make good their defence at every hazard. The mouth of the cave was small, and no sooner did the invaders rush in than they were cut down by those inside; in vain were more men thrust in to take the place of those slain; the advantages of position were too great, and they were obliged at length to desist. But Genghis was not to be balked of his victims, and his devilish cunning suggested the expedient of lighting straw at the mouth of the cave to suffocate those inside; but the size of the place prevented his plan from taking effect; so he at last commanded a large fragment of rock to be rolled to the mouth of the cavern, adding another as a support, and having thus effectually barred their exit he cruelly abandoned them to their fate. Of course the whole party suffered a miserable death, and it is perhaps the spirits of the murdered men that, wandering about and haunting it, have given a suspicious character to the place; but," concluded he, rather dogmatically, "the devil does not live there now-it is too cold ! !''

After scrambling over loose stones, climbing up precipices, and crawling round the projecting rocks, which consumed an hour, we found ourselves on a small ledge in front of the outer aperture, which was nearly circular, and about fifty feet high. We were now in a cavern apparently of no great extent, and, as I could not discover any other passage, I began to fancy that it was for this paltry hole we had undergone so much fatigue, and had had our expectations raised so high.

my weight, and down I came, extinguishing my torch in my fall. Luckily, I managed to stop myself from rolling down the fearful chasm which yawned beneath, but the heavy, rounded fragment of rock rolled onward, first with a harsh, grating sound, as if reluctantly quitting its resting place, then, gradually acquiring impetus, down it thundered, striking against other rocks and dragging them on with it, till the loud echoes, repeated a thousand times from the distant caves, mingling with the original sound, raised a tumult of noise quite sufficient to scare a braver crew than our party consisted of. The effect of my mishap was instantaneous. Our followers raised an universal shout

of "Shietan! Shietan!" (the devil! the devil!) and rushed helter-skelter back from the direction of the sound. In the confusion, all the torches carried by the natives were extinguished, and had not my friend Sturt displayed the most perfect coolness and self-possession, we should have been in an alarming predicament, for he-uninfluenced by any such supernatural fears as had been excited amongst the runaways, by the infernal tumult produced by my unlucky foot, and though himself ignorant of the cause of it, from having been intent upon the footmarks when I slipped-remained perfectly unmoved, with his torch, the only one still burning, raised high above his head, waiting patiently till the panic should subside. Order was at length restored in some degree, but the thirst of enterprise was cooled, and the natives loudly declared they would follow the devil no farther, and that we must return forthwith. Shah Pursund Khan, who was just as great a coward as the rest, declared it was no use following the track any more, for it was well known the cavern extended to Cabul!!! Finding it useless endeavouring to revive the broken spirits of these cravens, we reluctantly commenced a retrograde movement, and I was obliged to remain in lasting ignorance of the nature of the mysterious origin of the footprint.

We had considerable difficulty in finding our way back to the ice-rooms. The fears of our followers had now completely got the better of them; they lost their presence of mind, and consequently their way; and it was not till after we had wandered about for more than an hour, that we hit upon the ledge which eventually led us to the drop which we had originally descended, by means of the ladder of turbans. At the head of this drop we had left a couple of men to haul us up. As soon as they perceived the light of our expiring torches, they called out loudly to us to make haste and get out of the place, for they had seen the Sheitan, about an hour ago, run along the ledge beneath them, and disappear in the gloom beyond. This information raised the terror of the poor natives to a climax: all made a rush for the rope of turbans, and four or five having clutched hold of it, were in the act of dragging down turbans, men, and torches, upon our devoted heads, when Sturt interfered, and by his firm remonstrances, aided by the timely fall of a few well-aimed stones upon the heads of the crew, made them relax their grasp, and ascend one by one.

The chief, being the lightest, claimed the privilege of being drawn up first, which was readily agreed to, and so in succession, each when he had mounted assisting in drawing up his companions, till at last we were all safely landed at the top, out of the reach of any ordinary sized devil. We soon emerged into the open air, covered with dust from head to foot like Indian Faqueers, after having been for nearly four hours wandering in the bowels of the earth. Our followers soon regained their courage, now that the danger was past, and each in turn began to boast of his own valour, and sneer at the pusillanimity of his comrade; but all agreed, that nothing on earth or in heaven should ever tempt them again to visit the ice-caves of Yeermallick."

MY COUSIN KATE. [THE following tale I compile from my diary of a year long gone by. I am old now, but my heart I hope is young. Kate's eldest daughter, a pretty black-eyed girl of fifteen, is my adopted and loving child; my sight begins to fail, so she acts as my amanuensis. She is much surprised to hear such things of the staid lady whom she addresses as mother; and reads in my pleasure, at the memories of these occurrences, hopes for herself in connexion with the handsome heir of William Russell.

Robert and Kate are coming to stay a whole month with me, and will bring me the rest of their children. must go and superintend the preparation of rooms for them all.]

"I hear the bees in sleepy music winging

From the wild thyme when they have passed the noon,
There is the blackbird in the hawthorn singing,
Stirring the white spray with the same sweet tune.
Fragrant the tansy, breathing from the meadows,
As the west wind bends down the long green grass,
Now dark, now golden, as the fleeting shadows
Of the light clouds pass, as they were wont to pass."
L. E. L.-A long while ago.

One evening last August I was in a state of no inconsiderable anxiety. I had been expecting my cousin Kate ever since noon, and she had not yet arrived. Visions of carriages overturned were before me in an instant, but I banished every such thought as soon as I could. My windows were open, and the sweet odours of the flowers were borne in to me by the soft breath of the summer air. I looked again and again from my book down the gravel path which led somewhat circuitously to the lodge. Still no cousin Kate! I surveyed with no little complacency the arrangements of the teatable, and then I was anxious again. It began to grow dusk. I shut up my book, and was in a reverie, which must have been a deep one, for it was uninterrupted till I heard the sound of carriage-wheels close to my windows. I rushed into the hall; Kate herself was there, and, after a hasty embrace, she disrobed, and we were sitting calmly and happily side by side in the home of our childhood.

I had so wondered to myself whether she would be changed, though she had only been away from me three months; but she was the identical cousin Kate over whom I had shed tears at parting. If possible she had returned more coquettish than she set out, and a little, just a little, fonder of talking.

"A delightful old house, that of the Russells, Emma," said she; "such carved oak stair-cases and long galleries, and interminable vistas of old dark portraits,-I believe I should have grown sentimental if I had not read somewhere that it injured the health. I have read all Scott's novels again, and I don't know how much more; but, dear me, what beautiful jessamine! how fragrant it is!"

I wish I could give Kate's blush when I answered that Robert Westall had left it that morning in expectation of her return, but I cannot. She went on

"The Russells are inveterate readers; Mrs. Russell had her own particular lamp lighted as soon as it grew dusk, and persevered till she could scarcely keep awake. She being a lady of the old school, had dreams about household duties, which never disturbed Ann and Caroline; they began directly after breakfast. It was really ludicrous at dinner sometimes; some of us had been interrupted in a tournament, others had broken in on the repose of Keats' poetry, to attend to the grosser wants of mortal existence, and each bore the stamp of her separate employment. I was dull for three weeks, though perpetually sitting alone in a library where the books were all strange. The Russells read in their bedrooms, to be beyond the possibility of disturbance. Then Charles and William came home from Oxford, and fine fun we had. Such wanderings by moonlight, such reading, and singing, and talking together; and, in

short, we were quite happy. By the byc, how very handsome William is, and so droll, I am sure I laughed as if tears were imaginary things-not a sad reality. But when the excitement was over, Ann and Caroline read as usual, so the young men and I were left alone. They are so clever! Well, how delightful it is to be at home once more! How very well that dress becomes you, Emma: you look enchanting. And now, pray tell me some news."

Yes, and Mr. Morison looked fidgety," interrupted Kate; "and Mrs. Morison kept so strict an eye on the servants, that they did not act well,' as engineers say; I understand."

66

The Westalls have been at Brighton till yesterday, Kate; they came home at six last night; at seven Robert was here to know if you had returned." [Kate was silent enough now.] "Mr. Westall, of course, could not leave his business, being a lawyer. You know, Kate, people will quarrel and be ill, so lawyers and physicians have never any leisure. But Robert passed his examination just before he came, and wanted recreation. He is very pale. Of course, while you were away Ravenswood was dull enough, so he went to Brighton with the rest; and I have invited him to spend the day in the woods with us to-morrow."

"To-morrow! A day in the woods! delightful! Who is to go?"

"Robert and yourself, Miss Crompton-oh I forgot to tell you, she is at her uncle's for a few weeks again." "Full of London chatter, of course," said Kate. "Well, who else?"

"Ensign Lavington, Edwin Fenton, and myself."

Six; that will do. When do we start? Early, I hope." "Yes; at eight o'clock, after breakfasting here together."

"I am delighted. How do poor Edwin's poetics go on? Symptoms as violent as ever-turn-down shirt collarsand indomitable perseverance in injuring his health by sitting up at nights?"

"I think he is as poetical as ever, love: but really, Kate, you look pale and anxious in spite of your enjoyments at the Russells."

me.

Pale, Emma; you jest?"

"Not now," said I, kissing her blushing cheek, while I twined Robert's jessamine in her black hair. She was very fatigued, and soon retired. I remained down stairs to superintend the final closing of the house, being rather nervous. When I lay down beside her, the flowers were on her pillow, and I heard her murmur "Robert" in her sleep. What may this betide? thought I. The morning came. I jumped out of bed, and, having ascertained that it was a fine day, and just five o'clock, soon had my head on the pillow again, and was going off into a magnificent dream, when Kate's kiss awoke We congratulated each other on the weather, and, after anticipations of enjoyment for the day, prepared to dress. Without her knowledge I placed a spray of Robert's jessamine in her hair-it was very much faded, for though it had not been very long gathered, its nature was so delicate that the mere cutting it from the parent stem injured it materially. She looked lovely. I hoped from my heart that she would not be mischievous to-day, for Robert and she had not met for six months-he having been studying hard in London long before Kate left. The last interview she had with him was to refuse his offer of marriage; and I really felt concerned, for he was truly amiable and intelligent, with a manly decision of his own, excepting Kate were in the case, then he submitted directly; but this, I thought, marriage would cure, and I knew a little restraint would improve Kate wonderfully but really she was such a coquette !

:

Presently we were seated round the table to which I had so eagerly welcomed Kate the evening before. The only one wanted to complete the party was Miss Crompton, and even she was only half-an-hour behind |

her time; but she came yawning in spite of her scrupulous conventional politeness, to show us how much later she rose in London.

While the rest are at the breakfast table I will step aside to give a slight sketch of our companions.

Robert came first. I was distressed to see Kate receive him without the least emotion, as if they had parted only a day or two since; but O! how comforted to see her leave the room, and come back with her eyes rather less bright, but much more tender and beautiful than usual. The Ensign, in all the glory of a spotless uniform and a flaxen moustache, was our second arrival. With an easy condescension he bowed to Kate and shook hands with me, coxcomb that he was! as if he were supremely contented in himself, but just kept up a communication with ordinary mortals out of pure benevolence. He twisted his fair moustache impatiently round his fore-finger, admired our prospect, and avowed his intention of enjoying himself that day. He wished Miss Crompton had commissioned him to call her, he would have thrown stones at her windows, and damaged more panes of glass than the most indefatigable glazier could mend in a long summer's day. Having relieved his feelings about Miss C.'s late rising by this candid expression of them, he applied himself to the dispatch of his breakfast. Edwin Fenton came, looking bilious and out of spirits as usual. He considered himself quite a Byron; indeed he confidentially said to me one evening, "Byron ! he was a happy man to me! he could get rid of his superfluous excitement by writing it down and selling it; but my fate interferes with such an arrangement. It is all here," (touching his forehead with his finger,) "but it is incommunicable, and that increases my misery." Even this unhappy individual honoured our excursion day with an attempt at a smile, when we painted in glowing colours the delights that were before us. After breakfast the carriage arrived, and after sending, by way of pioneer, a gig carrying a servant and provisions, we set out. Never did I see anything more beautiful than the country that day. It could not be the charm of novelty, these scenes were as familiar to me as my breath. I was born and bred here, the orphan heiress. I was acquainted with almost every tree that grew. Perhaps the cause of my happiness was, that Kate, the being I loved best on earth, (since Robert's elder brother died,) had just returned to me, and I sat with my hand in her's the whole of the way. The hedges yet boasted their beautiful wild roses; the foliage was richly green; here and there a tree shadowed forth to our mind the coming autumn, and it suggested to me a person prematurely wise. The nightingale's song was heard from the wood we were entering; my whole external life breathed poetry, and my heart leaped up and echoed the happiness that was around me. My grief had long lost its boisterous character; it was to me now as a gentle sad companion, in whose presence levity can never come, though much delight may be experienced. I drank the inspiration yielded to me by the high spirits of my companions and the bright weather; but I was as I always am-quietly happy. Kate and the rest laughed, but Kate was unusually silent that day. Once I was going to put my arm round her waist but found myself too late-that position was already occupied by Robert, who sat on her other side. Kate's coquettishness had been my plague, I fervently hoped here was an end to it.

Miss Crompton and the Ensign took wonderfully; he entertained her with an imaginary siege, in which he had performed feats of valour hitherto unheard of. Now, thought I, you have your match for the first time in your life, for certainly his military achievements were not more wonderful than her adventures in London. The prominence of the first person singular, was the most striking feature in each case. Edwin Fenton had chosen to sit with the driver, and I could hear his melancholy opinions about the harvest, the state of the country, &c., and Ben's answers full of ignorant fear. Not that Ben did not know how fine the wheat was about us,