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Mrs. Dalton fixed her eyes on him for a moment with an expression of restrained mirth. Then compressing her lips, and keeping silence with an effort, she darted from the room to commence the important business of the toilette." Simpleton that I am!" said she, chidingly, to herself, as her maid looped up her dress with geranium and myrtle, and fastened the blossoms among her profuse ringlets. "I had nearly marred my own scheme at its very commencement by a little outbreak of jealous vanity. So irrational! To pick out a wife for Godfrey, and then begin to be angry because he overlooks me in his admiration of her! Absurd! Well, I only hope he will not be too precipitate. Edith is not a woman likely to dispense with the wooing which is our sex's privilege. We have a full month before us, I shall be quite satisfied if, by the end of that time, he comes to the point. And then-I shall go down to Beechwood for the winter."

And a sombre expression stole into her large dark eyes, and a gradual languor seemed to unstring her graceful limbs. Few who had beheld the apathy with which she submitted to the adornments which her silent attendant lavished upon her, would have believed that her face was capable of such sparkling animation-her manner of such vivacious coquetry. But when the last curl had been arranged, and the last bouquet fastened, she passed her hand over her forehead, and, with a sudden expression of contempt, whether for herself or for the subject of her meditations we cannot say, she resumed, as with an effort, her ordinary demeanour, and descended to the drawing-room.-Beechwood was her

HOME.

Shall we inquire into Edith's thoughts during the same half-hour? No. Time will develope them. At dinner she was a little surprised to see Mr. Thornton the life and leader of the party, but she felt strangely interested by the idea that, under all this sparkling vivacity, there was a concealed melancholy of temperament, known, in all probability, only to herself and to his cousin. The latter appeared fully to understand the art of drawing him out, and under her judicious management he scattered repartees, puns, and illustrations, with a prodigality perfectly astonishing. Edith was at some distance from him, and fully occupied in listening; she was thankful to be seated between a fat squire and a taciturn curate, neither of whom endeavoured to divert her attention. The style of Mr. Thornton's conversation was perfectly new to her, and she enjoyed it not a little. Nothing seemed to come amiss to him; no subject was evaded, no remark unanswered. From theology down to gourmandism, from politics to pic-nics-wherever the conversation-ball glanced, there was he ready to catch and to return it with untiring vigour. If he had no argument at hand, he had a simile; and if that failed him, he supplied its place by a jest. Nothing was too deep or too shallow, too high or too low, but his wit could touch, or his fancy embellish it. She had no time to analyze, even if she had been capable of doing so, she could only admire. And a strange kind of feeling came upon her as she walked meditatively back to the drawing-room, as though all deep thought and laborious study were but waste of time, and there was no topic which could not be fully discussed and satisfactorily settled in a conversation. Strange, also, it seemed, that some of the topics should be handled at all; stranger still, that one who could handle them so delicately should not have shrunk from exercising his skill in public. But of this she had neither leisure nor inclination to think at any length. She was entertained, interested, fascinated; she had experienced a new sensation.

(To be continued.)

SNOW-SHOES.

Ir is interesting to notice the skill and contrivance with which man adapts himself to the different climates and physical peculiarities of the countries in which Providence has assigned him a dwelling. Places, which to us would seem utterly desolate, are not only rendered habitable, but are made to afford many of the pleasures and even luxuries of life. Natural difficulties are overcome with a readiness in the application of means which may well excite our admiration and esteem. In the chilly regions of the north, where the cold is too intense for the growth even of the rugged pine,-where, during a large portion of the year, the waters are bound up with frost, and the earth is hidden beneath deep snow, the Esquimaux uses both the ice and the snow in the construction of a dwelling, which he finds warm and comfortable, while the external air is often more When the hunting than fifty degrees below zero. grounds of the Indian are hidden beneath the same glittering mantle, on which we should suppose a foot heavier than that of a bird would find it impossible to tread with safety, the hunter and the traveller nevertheless fearlessly pursue their way by means of one of those skilful contrivances alluded to above. Experience has taught him that, by enlarging the surface of his foot, the slight cohesion among the particles of the snow beneath him is sufficient to support his body; and, accordingly, he supplies himself with a pair of snowshoes, with which he steps fearlessly forward over drifts which, without such aid, would prove fatal to him.

The

The snow-shoe in common use in the North American continent consists of two light bars of wood fastened together at their extremities, and bowed outwards by means of transverse bars inserted between them. The side bars are first brought into shape by means of a frame, and are dried before a fire. front part of the shoe turns up like the prow of a boat, and the part behind terminates in an acute angle. The spaces between the bars are filled up with a fine netting of leathern thongs, except that part behind the main bar, which is occupied by the foot; the netting is there close and strong, and the foot is attached to the main bar by straps passing round the heel, but only fixing the toes, so that the heel rises after each step, and the tail of the shoe is dragged on the snow. main bar and another in front of it, a small space is left, permitting the toes to descend a little in the act of raising the heel to make the step forward, which prevents their extremities from chafing. The length of a snow-shoe is from four to six feet, and the breadth one foot and a half to one and three quarters, being adapted to the size of the wearer. The motion in walking in them is perfectly natural, for one shoe is level with the snow, when the edge of the other is passing over it. It is not easy to use snow-shoes among bushes without frequent overthrows, or to rise afterwards without help.

Between the

The

Each shoe weighs about two pounds. northern Indian shoes differ a little from those of the southern Indians, having a greater curvature on the outside of each shoe; one advantage of which is, that when the foot rises, the overbalanced side descends and throws off the snow. All the superiority of European art has been unable to improve the native contrivance of this useful machine.1

It is not difficult to walk in snow-shoes, but one unaccustomed to their use is sure to suffer severely from a violent inflammation and swelling of the instep and ankles, called by the Canadians mal à raquette. This disease seldom excites compassion in the more experienced travellers, who push on as fast as they can, regardless of the pain of the sufferer.

Snow-shoes are apt to get clogged, especially in frosty weather, rendering frequent halts necessary, in order

(1) Franklin's first journey to the shores of the Polar Sea

to get rid of the incumbrance. When there is water, under the snow, and the cold is severe, large lumps of ice form on the snow-shoes, and the foot at every step seems as if it were chained to the ground.

In travelling to any considerable distance over snowy regions, the party must, of course, carry with them sufficient provisions for the whole journey. These are generally conveyed on dog-sledges, made of two or three flat boards, curving upwards in front, and fastened together by transverse pieces of wood above. They are so thin, that if heavily laden, they bend with the inequalities of the surface over which they pass. The ordinary dog-sledges are eight or ten feet long, and very narrow, but the lading is secured to a lacing round the edges. The weight usually placed upon a sledge drawn by three dogs at the commencement of a journey, is not less than three hundred pounds, which, however, suffers a daily diminution from the consumption of provisions. The sledge itself weighs about thirty pounds. When the snow is hard frozen, or the track well trodden, the rate of travelling is about two and a half miles an hour, including rests, or about fifteen miles a-day. If the snow is loose, the speed is, of course, much less, and the fatigue greater.

The general dress of the winter traveller is a capot, with a hood to put up under the fur cap in windy weather, or in the woods to keep the snow from the neck. The trowsers are of leather; and the feet are protected by mocassins of ox-hide, or, still better, of the skin of the deer. The very best are of the hide of the moose deer, but this substance is very scarce. The foot is first wrapped in a piece of blanket, cut for the purpose, and then thrust into the mocassin, which is fastened by thongs of soft leather passing round the ankles. The upper part of the mocassin is composed of loose flaps which are passed under the stocking, which reaches no lower than the ankle; by this contrivance the snow is kept out, and the foot is made warm and comfortable. The traveller's costume is completed by a blanket or leathern coat, secured by a belt round the waist, from which hang his fire-bag, knife, and hatchet.

Captain Head has given a lively description of a journey in Canada, in the depth of winter, when the snow was lying deep on the ground. The district was a wild one, without roads or even a track; the ground was too rough, and the snow too deep for a sleigh; and the party chose the frozen surface of a river as the smoothest path. They marched in single file, moving heavily along upon their snow-shoes, seldom speaking, except at the end of every half hour the foremost of the party yielded his place to one of the rest; the duty of the leader being the most laborious, he having to open a path for the others. During the day, a snowstorm had been threatening: "Still, however, we went on, and it grew darker and darker, till a heavy fall of snow, driven by a powerful wind, came sweeping along the desert track, directly in our teeth; so that, what with general fatigue, and the unaccustomed position of the body in the snow-shoes, I could hardly bear up and stand against it. The dreary howling of the tempest over the wide waste of snow rendered the scene even still more desolate; and with the unmitigated prospect before us of cold and hunger, our party plodded on in sullen silence, each, in his own mind, well aware that it was utterly impracticable to reach that night the place of our destination.

"But, in spite of every obstacle, the strength of the two Canadians was astonishing; with bodies bent forward, and leaning on their collar, on they marched, drawing the tobogins after them with a firm, indefatigable step; and we had all walked a little more than seven hours, when the snow-storm had increased to such a pitch of violence, that it seemed impossible for any human creature to withstand it,-it bid defiance even to their most extraordinary exertions. The wind

(1) A small hand sledge for carrying provisions.

now blew a hurricane. We were unable to see each other at a greater distance than ten yards, and the drift gave an appearance to the surface of the snow we were passing over, like that of an agitated sea. Wheeled round every now and then by the wind, we were enveloped in clouds so dense, that a strong sense of suffocation was absolutely produced." The party, therefore, halted, and sought the friendly shelter of a pine forest, where they levelled a maple-tree, and having gathered some large pieces of bark, proceeded to shovel away the snow from a square spot of ground. "The fibrous bark of the white cedar, previously rubbed to powder between the hands, was ignited, and blowing upon this, a flame was produced. This being fed, first by the silky peelings of the birch bark, and then by the bark itself, the oily and pitchy matter burst forth into full action, and a splendid fire raised its flames and smoke amidst a pile of huge logs, to which one and all of us were constantly and eagerly contributing." The place of encampment is usually called the hut, and as soon as the snow has been cleared away, is usually covered with pine branches, over which the party spread their blankets and coats, and sleep in warmth and comfort, by keeping a good fire at their feet, without any other canopy than the sky, even though the thermometer should be far below zero.

The arrival at the place of encampment," says Franklin, "gives immediate occupation to every one of the party, and it is not until the sleeping place has been arranged, and a sufficiency of wood collected as fuel for the night, that the fire is allowed to be kindled. The dogs alone remain inactive during this busy scene, being kept harnessed to their burdens until the men have leisure to unpack the sledges, and hang upon the trees every article of provision out of the reach of these rapacious animals."

Similar in its uses to the snow-shoe is the snow-skate of the Norwegian, and is, indeed, a far more powerful and efficient machine. The skies, or snow-skates, consist of two thin, narrow pieces of fir, of unequal lengths, and turned up in front. The longer skate, which measures about seven feet, is used on the left foot; the other, which is about two feet shorter, on the right. The width is about three inches, and the thickness at the part where the foot is placed, about an inch. Strong loops of willow, or of fir root, are fixed to the sides, through which are passed the leather thongs for attaching the skate to the foot. The skates are smeared with pitch, and on the under side is a hollow groove to prevent slipping. The under side is also covered with sealskin or rough bear-hide, for the same purpose.

During the wars between Sweden and Norway, two regiments were trained to the use of those skates, and were called Skielöbere, or skate-runners. These two battalions consisted of about six hundred men, and were drilled during winter. Their rifles were slung, and each man carried a staff, flattened at the end, to prevent it from sinking in the snow, and to assist him in leaping over such obstacles as stood in the way. They descended hills with wonderful rapidity; and in drawing up, they left room between the files to turn in the skates, which they did by changing the right foot by an extraordinary motion which would seem to dislocate the ankle. "An army would be completely in the power of even a handful of these troops, which, stopped by no obstacle, and swift as the wind, might attack it on all points; while the depth of the snow, and the nature of the country, would not only make any pursuit impossible, but almost deprive them of the means of defence, the Skielöbere, still hovering round them like swallows, skimming the icy surface and dealing destruction upon their helpless adversaries."

The skates are still in common use in Norway; the widely-dispersed inhabitants, without distinction of age or sex, making use of them in winter; traversing mountains, lakes, and arms of the sea, as well as level ground, and often saving several leagues of the dis

tance they are obliged to travel at other seasons. On a common road, a good skater will travel faster than a horse in a sledge. His progress up hill, however, is slow and fatiguing, and on hard snow he would slip backwards but for the rough skin on the under surface of the skates. But he descends the steepest mountains with astonishing rapidity, avoiding precipices, and guiding his flight with his pole. It is said that considerable skill and practice are required to become a good snow-skater.

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A SKETCH OF DOMESTIC LIFE

CHAP. VII. CHRISTIAN FEELINGS. "You know as well as I do the unsettled state of the neighbouring country," said the young clergyman, after a pause, as he leaned against his father's writing-desk. The consequences are, lawlessness, bloodshed, and the destruction of all civil and domestic rights, under the guise of liberty and justice."

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"I know I know," answered Danielis. "But go on; why this strange introduction to the matter on which you are about to speak?" Jacob continued, The worst of all appears to me to be the want of religious and moral feeling. The machine of state is soon put right; but social virtues are not so easily restored. For months there has been no public worship; the clergy have fled, or been driven away for their political opinions, and the schools are empty." "I almost fancy you wish to become a missionary to the disturbed districts; is it really so?"

"Yes," answered Jacob. "A request has been sent to me in the name of several parishes; they wish me to try to restore the worship of God. Children are unbaptized, marriage rites not celebrated, the sick and the dying in vain long for religious consolation, and the services of the church are quite neglected. My own lot, in the midst of civil war and dissensions, will be most unsafe. Not even one parish, not a regular stipend is secured to me, the whole country is so unsettled."

"And what answer did you give?"

"That I would do nothing without your advice." "And that advice, my dear son, is that you should not quit your own country, to which your services are

due."

66

But, father, is not the whole world our country, created by the hand of God? Is not every one our neighbour whom we are commanded to love as ourselves?"

"Right, my dear child; but I imagined that the neighbourhood of your parents, the opportunities you enjoy of association with the friends of your youth, would bind you to your home with links of iron; and that even an affair of the heart would make it difficult for you to tear yourself away, and risk your life and happiness in a foreign land."

As the Elder said this, Jacob cast down his eyes; conscious what his father alluded to, he hesitatingly replied, "Yes, very difficult; but the greater the sacrifice, the more acceptable is it in the eyes of God."

"You have well said," answered Danielis, to whom

the blushes and hesitation of his son revealed the secret of the young man's heart, and one cause of his departure. After a long pause, the Elder, to give a fresh turn to the conversation, continued:

"But, my son, reflect a little; you are still so young; here you have every thing necessary for the improvement of your mind; the judgment of enlightened persons must have a favourable influence on your preaching; and the duties of the pulpit are the most

(1) Concluded from page 334.

important functions of a clergyman. It is a difficult office. Eloquence is not alone a gift of nature, but requires study. I fear that in the country, among rude, ignorant people, you will neglect this and become an every-day preacher, who performs his duties mechanically, and thinks only of his own advantage."

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Dear father, he who is not inspired by his divine calling will receive inspiration from neither town nor village. It seems to me that not less art and study are required to elevate to holy things the mind of a peasant than that of a dweller in towns."

"That may be true, Jacob. But are you indifferent to leaving your present circle, where you can do so much good, for an unknown and circumscribed district?" "That does not alarms me. Man's activity and goodness depend not on the extent of his sphere of action. His own will, strength, and deeds, create the region of his operation."

The assenting nod of the Elder seemed to approve of his son's opinions, but he added: "Although there are two sides to every subject, pray bear in mind, that, to do much good, it is needful to think of one's self and one's circumstances. Independence is a necessity to a man whose wishes tend to universal benevolence. He aid others, and only builds castles in the air. Even who is needy, and requires help himself, can do little to Archimedes required a firm support for his feet before he engaged to raise the earth with his lever; and a moderate independence and good position in society, whether earned by our exertions or the result of our calling, alone give us this support."

he did not quite comprehend his father's observations, The expression of the young man's face showed that in an absent manner, "Undoubtedly." or thought them unsuitable to the subject. He replied

"Well," continued the Elder, "you are at present in an enviable situation, with good prospects for the future. will secure you from want for life. Poverty is the In a few years, you will have a profitable living, which bitterest of all cares, because the most contemptible, and yet the most pressing of our sufferings. When you have left your parish, as you desire, to devote yourself to the service of others, you will soon be forgotten, and on your return those who have not quitted the service of your church will be preferred to you. I allow the pressing need of our revolutionary neightheir own unsettled state, they cannot secure to you bours; they want honest and active pastors; but from either a provision for life or even daily bread. Consider well, my dear boy, and when you take a loving partner for life, as you most likely will, think how you are to support her."

The countenance of Jacob became crimson, but his was not the blush of shame, but was the glow of inspiration. Earthly love might have mingled with his feelings, but it soon subsided, and religious enthusiasm alone remained. He raised his eyes to heaven, then walked up to his father, and seizing his two hands said, in a tone of voice which seemed to crave forgiveness for the warmth of his language:

"Dear father, I know you well, your love and your principles. If one of the apostles had come to his Heavenly Master, as I have come to you, would he have received the like answer?"

The Elder was silent. He looked for some time at his

son with much surprise, and then said with deep kind

ness and affection,

66

If this is your way of thinking, my dear Jacob, I can have nothing to say against it. Go, fulfil your duty as your conscience bids you; God will be with you. Even should your Christian feeling lead you into earthly sorrow, it will ensure you a glorious resurrection and a throne in heaven. Go, my son, and may God bless you."

The father pressed his son to his breast with emotion, and the moistened eyes of the young man showed how deeply he felt.

CHAP. VIII. SELF-DENIAL.

The mother consented to Jacob's departure, though with a heavy heart. She felt much for poor Else, who, in various ways, heard many words which informed her of Jacob's resolves, although it was never openly discussed. The news seemed to fall like a sentence of death upon her quiet and silent happiness. She could not oppose her lover's departure, and even had she dared, she would have died rather than have betrayed feelings which she could scarcely understand herself. She carefully avoided a meeting with Jacob, towards whom her whole being felt attracted by the unseen influence of love. If obliged to address him in his parents' presence, she spoke calmly, and yet she felt as though her soul was longing to pour itself out in affectionate words. And when by chance her eyes turned upon him, their expression was one of complaint and gentle reproach, to which he answered by looks of love, consolation, and hope.

But what the young lovers succeeded in concealing from every one else, almost from each other, did not escape the penetration of Mother Anna, and she felt the secret sorrow of Jacob and Else, even more than her own. One day when alone with her son, she said to him, "Your departure grieves me much, my dear boy. I feel that I shall seldom see you; the path of danger you have chosen, and the sacrifice you make of home, of your living, and of your prospects, contribute to my sadness; but I trust in God. I confess to you, that for one reason only do I rejoice at your plan,-it may restore peace to Else and to you. Your presence is destructive to her quiet, and her welfare, as well as yours, lies near my heart. For this cause and no other, I can bear you wandering in a strange land. Else is little more than a child; her affection is a dream, from which you must not awaken her, if you love her truly. Go, my child, be wise and happy. To persist in wishes we cannot gratify, is wrong. Go, and God be with you! Forget every thing except yourself, and the reward of your own good conscience.'

Jacob looked fondly at his mother, and took her hand in his, as he replied, "Dear mother, you cannot be serious. Must I forget my mother, my father, and Else? No, I must first forget myself. While memory endures, you three will be there enshrined. But calm your uneasiness. Because I love innocence and holiness, I must love this dear girl, who is so pure from all guile. Whether she will ever be my wife, I know not; but she will occupy my thoughts during my whole life. Do not think me a coward who can lose his reason in a Werther fever. I love with open eyes; therefore, the happiness of this noble girl is dearer than my own. If a worthier than I were to offer his hand, and he could make Else happier than myself, I would lead her to him, though with a bleeding heart."

The mother embraced her son with tender love. At last the parting hour arrived. Parents, brothers, and sisters, uttered a tender farewell, whispering hope and courage. But Else stood at the door of the house, timid and shrinking from view. Jacob extended his hand as he passed her, their eyes met; his, full of love, made a tender and mute appeal: the answer was a tear. Else fled away to her own room, while the young pastor hastened through the garden to the highroad.

Jacob now entered on the path he had chosen, in the midst of confusion and party strife. He visited his father's house at very rare intervals; but his letters gave proof of an energetic spirit, which rose above all trouble. He had chosen for his head-quarters a little village, from whence he diverged, and performed his clerical duties to the desolate community. On Sundays he preached three or four times a day, sometimes at one place, sometimes at another; a couveyance being in waiting to convey him to the different churches. During the week the young preacher walked cheerfully

from village to village, giving good advice, praying with the dying, celebrating marriages, and re-establishing schools. Denying himself every comfort, his home was a deserted, half-empty house, barely furnished, but provided with arms against any surprise. His daily intercourse was with a wild, ignorant people; he even accompanied them to battle to give aid, spiritual and temporal, to the wounded.

Yet all these privations could not drive the young man from the path in which he trod without fanaticism, though with all the zeal of a fanatic, and in which he persevered without hope of reward, exposed to the taunts and reproaches of his acquaintance. Even Danielis did not escape censure from those who think that in providing for their children comfortably and well without consulting the will of God, they have fulfilled their highest duty. The Elder was not affected by their reprehensions, nor hurt by their offensive expressions and forebodings of ill. "Be it so," he would say to his wife; "the unjust reproaches of man bring the favour of God. What my son is now doing, was done by the noblest of men in olden times; and though their meed was death, from the barbarity of the age in which they lived, yet now they are revered as martyrs and saints. Let our Jacob pursue his path as a messenger of peace and an apostle of the Gospel, following in the rear of his predecessors, the benefactors of mankind."

CHAP. IX.-THE FESTIVE MEETING.

A year passed away,-a year rich in blossoms and harvests-like every other that we welcome so warmly, and so coldly see depart. Nature's creating hand, as if wearied with daily toil, sought repose on its wintry bed; and the snow-flakes fell like dreams upon its resting place, while the hoarfrost, melted by the pale sun-beams, was dissolved from the branches of the trees.

Christmas, the pleasantest of the domestic feasts in the Elder's family, drew near. All the household were busy preparing their gifts in secret. Such hiding and seeking, such counselling and guessing, such jests and whispers, were never seen or heard, as the memorable day approached. On Christmas-eve every one delivered his or her gifts to the parents, to be deposited on the table under the mysterious folds of a white cloth. All then left the room, that the presents so carefully concealed might be duly arranged by the father and mother.

The night seemed interminable to the impatient members of the family. Before dawn, the father lighted the numerous wax-lights on all the tables, and in the branches of the Christmas tree, and then went in search of the eager troop, who were assembled in Else's chamber. Full of expectation, they walked in couples to the festive hall, where they gave vent to their pleasure, surprise, and admiration, in loud and joyous acclamations. Jacob, alone, was absent. Every one missed him, wished for him, and pitied him for being so far away from the happy scene. All spoke of him, all left their own pleasure diminished, since it could not be shared with him. Else, alone, was silent; but a deeper sorrow than even theirs oppressed her heart, and she would willingly have given vent to her feelings in tears. He whom she loved more and more each day, as she appreciated his self-devotion, he was not there; his place was vacant,-there was no gift for him.

But a few hours passed, and the regret of all was changed into gladness. A letter came from Jacob announcing his return home that evening. A friend had undertaken his duties, and with a mind free from care, he was coming home to fulfil his heart's dearest wish. "He could not," he said, "relinquish the pleasure of celebrating with the beloved household a day which had ever been to him the most solemn and the most esteemed in all the days of the year."

"But for heaven's sake," exclaimed Mother Anna, as

soon as she was alone with her husband, and free from | the noisy mirth of the family; "how can we make this a happy day to dear Jacob? We have no festive gift for him. Advise me what to do. I can offer him sweetmeats; but what a trifle-what a poor acknowledgment of the joy his return gives us, his safe return this dreary winter weather! Or would you place some money among my sweets? he may want it, poor fellow." Danielis shook his head, as he answered, "Money! that is dry nourishment for heart and spirit, though useful for corporeal wants and necessities. Let us think of a nobler gift; he deserves it! He has made a sacrifice to the highest of duties, and has resigned the most easy and pleasant life, one that all would desire, for a gloomy existence, surrounded by troubles and dangers. He may sink under it. No one, except God and his own conscience, can reward him as he merits; but let us now gratify the strongest of his earthly wishes. Come, I have a happy thought." He whispered something to his wife with a smile.

Mother Anna at first looked at him doubtfully, as if quite alarmed; but the expression of her features soon changed, and her face beamed with a joy which lighted up her whole countenance.

"It is a charming idea," exclaimed she; "but how shall we gain time? for evening will quickly be here, and great preparations will be needful." Where shall I find flowers? and an invitation must be sent to all our relatives. As to the feast, there will be plenty of good things, for I am always prepared on a day like this. Then, the goldsmith;-I must go into the town myself. No! I can send. But there is no time to be lost; evening is at hand. Go, my dear husband; and do your part."

Mother Anna set to work so eagerly that she put all the house in motion; but no one could guess the reason of these extraordinary preparations. One messenger was sent to the town; another to the wood; a third to invite the guests; a fourth to the goldsmith and the jeweller. There happened to be a young cousin on a visit at the Elder's to whom Mother Anna confided the secret, and whom she chose as her assistant; and when evening came, and the happy Jacob arrived, and had embraced his parents, brothers, and sisters, all was prepared to make the holy day a most happy one for him.

Much time was spent, as may be well imagined, in questions, answers, caresses, and rejoicings over the newly-arrived guest. At length the father, made his way through the joyful family group, and raised his voice above the rest for silence. He took Jacob's hand, and said:

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To business, my children, to business! before we sit down to supper. Our young missionary has not left his post to-day in vain. He expects his Christmas gift. Ah! poor Jacob, you were too late to share with the others. But it would grieve your mother's heart to leave you uncared for at this happy time. Come, mother, lead the way into your drawing-room, and we will follow. Now, young people, after us;" cried the father, smiling merrily at his flock.

No sooner said than done. The family entered Mother Anna's saloon, which was gaily lighted up. The walls were covered with oil-paintings and engravings; with portraits of her children and relatives, or memorials of friends; for to walk in loving remembrance among those dear to her, the dead as well as the living, was the sweetest of her quiet domestic feelings. At one end of the room, near a sofa, stood a table adorned with confectionary of all sorts. To this table the father and mother led their son. Both watched his looks, smiling, and enjoying his surprise. Jacob embraced them both, exclaiming :

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"How affectionate, how good you are to me !" Affectionate, certainly," repeated the Elder; "but good-no, Jacob. This table, so trifling a gift, contradicts your assertion. However, I can, should you

wish it, add something to these nothings. It is a jewel which many will covet, and yet many will reproach you for taking it. Reflect before accepting it, for if you do so, you must keep it for ever. It is not mine, yet I can give it to you. It costs me nothing, yet it will cause you much expense, which expense may increase yearly. It delights all who look upon it, and I confess it charms me by something magical in its form and colour. But in a few years the gold frame will tarnish, and then the worth or the worthlessness of the jewel will be discovered. Dear Jacob, look not so astounded, even though I speak in riddles. This jewel is itself an enigma, to which time alone can give you a clue. Yet, I feel certain, that the more anxiety it costs to obtain, the greater happiness will it bestow on you. But why say more? Come, my son, see it with your own eyes, and then decide."

While the elder thus spoke, the whole family stood around him in a circle, listening with much curiosity. Danielis opened the door of an adjoining room, and exclaimed, Follow me!"

There, beneath the flower-garlands and ivy branches which adorned the chamber, more beautiful in her simple white robe than if glittering with jewels,-sat Else; her head bowed down, and her hands clasped in deep anxiety. The whole household looked on amazed; then followed a deep silence. Jacob stood as though petrified with wonder; but joy and ecstasy flashed from his eyes. He stretched forth his arms to his beloved; Else rose, trembling, and sank fainting with happiness upon his faithful breast.

The father and mother looked on with joyful tears, and the rest soon found their tongues in affectionate congratulations to the young lovers, who threw themselves into their parents' arms.

Scarcely a year from this joyful betrothal, the marriage of Jacob and Else was celebrated. The Elder and his wife live their own young days over again in witnessing this happy union; and every coming year adds to the bliss of the pastor and his beloved Else.-D.M.M.

MY FIRST VISIT TO COURT,

DESCRIBED IN A LETTER TO A FRIEND.

From the German of Starke.

[Gotthelf Wilhelm Christoph Starke, Protestant minister of Ballenstedt, is the author of five small volumes, entitled "Gemählde aus dem Hänslichen Leben und Erzählungen" (Pictures illustrative of Domestic Life, and Tales). The simple beauty, purity, fidelity, and quiet humour of these sketches are very

charming; and although these qualities cannot be entirely preserved in a translation, yet it is hoped that the specimens we are about to submit to the reader will convey a favourable idea of an author who is almost entirely unknown in this country.]

FIVE wearisome hours have I to describe to you, my dear friend-five hours full of that sort of anguish which we may suppose a fish out of water to endure. I feel as much relieved as a man that has just paid off a heavy debt; for, since the occurrence of the vexatious events of yesterday, I have enjoyed a night of undisturbed repose. O magic sleep! how beautifully dost thou render rough things smooth, dark things bright! how sweetly dost thou restore troubled spirits to their accustomed rest, and obliterate the traces of all past griev ances, except those that arise from a troubled conscience! Again we stand like a healthy tree after a storm, look back upon past adventures, relate them, and laugh at them as at a dream of the night.

You have long been aware of my sincere regard for worthy farmer Kronow, of Torneburg, and the delight with which I participate in the simple pleasures of his house. His little estate lies opposite to the town. A

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