in the shape of printer's devil,-the inky imp's mission being a peremptory warning that time's up, and space run out. So a large majority of Mr. Carlyle's writings must still be left unexplored, for parallel passages of Gig Respectability,-more than half his critical Essays, for instance, and all his Latter-day Pamphlets, and Sartor Resartus, and Past and Present, and Hero-Worship, and the Lives of Schiller and Sterling and Frederick the Great. For, once more, and the last time of asking,

Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see,

Sits in the hall arm-chair, and stays for me,

but swears in his own vernacular he won't stay a second longer.

THE GERMAN ALMANACKS FOR 1862.

ACCORDING to our usual custom, we proceed to analyse the German Almanacks for the coming year. We need not now discuss their specialities, which, we trust, are sufficiently known to our readers, but we may observe that a very marked change for the better has taken place in them. In the first instance, the Royal Statistical office of Berlin, at the head of which stands the renowned meteorologist Professor Dove, has made a dead stand against that mass of absurdities the "Centennial Kalendar,” in which all the peasants of Germany believe as in their Bible. In a cleverly written and sensible paper, the fallacies of astral meteorology are shown up, and it is fully proved that the planets do not exercise the slightest influence on the weather. This paper nearly all the popular Almanacks have inserted, and we hope that it will have a good effect. We only wish some sensible corporation in this country would make a similar onslaught on old Moore's Almanack, or the owner be compelled to live solely on his own pills.

Another encouraging thing with the German Almanacks is that they have decidedly grown more national in their tone, and the cry of them all is for German unity. William of Prussia has passed anything but a rosy time of it with the non-Prussian press since his visit to Compiègne, and one writer in the Vienna Wanderer openly charges him with being a lick-spittle and a sycophant. In Prussia, however, and those German states connected with it by policy, the people judge more fairly of the king's conduct they consider that he regarded himself as the next victim to Gallic glory, and wished to do all in his power to avert the war. Seeing that Austria is but a broken reed to lean on, the Germans are anxious to restore a powerful and united fatherland under the hegemony of Prussia, and it would be a happy day for Europe when this took place. In the mean while, the public writers of Germany are doing their utmost to keep the idea before their readers, and to foster that healthy detestation of France to which the fatherland can alone owe its safety. This year the Almanacks are filled with patriotic stories, among which

the death of Hofer occupies a great place, and, indeed, the same feeling is perceptible in all the German periodicals. In a recent number of the Gartenlaube, for instance, we read a detailed account of the trial and condemnation of Palm, the bookseller, and only one motive could have actuated the choice of that subject-a desire to keep before the public mind the blessings of a French domination. In fact, the whole tone of the German press is martial, and the nation seems at length aroused to a due sense of the danger they have escaped, and which may yet burst over them should M. Fould's neat little plans for making things pleasant in Paris prove a failure. For history teaches that the French never fight so bravely and desperately as when starvation is before the gates.

We need hardly say that the German Almanacks for 1862 contain numerous anecdotes about " Old Fritz," and we will condense one called "Frederick the Great as a Matrimonial Agent," which will furnish a fair idea of the rest. During the Seven Years' War the Prussian horse artillery was most serviceable, especially a gun christened the "Chesnut," because it was drawn by six horses of that colour. One day when marching into Bohemia, the king, accompanied by the Duke of Brunswick-Bevern, Prince Maurice of Anhalt, and General von Treskow, was engaged in reconnoitring the enemy. So occupied was he, that he did not notice that a picket of the Austrian hussars was dashing up to cut him off. A gunner of the horse artillery noticed it, however, and laid the Chesnut on the enemy, but was restrained from firing by his superior officer, who considered it an encroachment on his authority. The king curiously rode up to the spot:

"Why is the gun unlimbered ?" the king asked.

"Your majesty," the soldier answered boldly, "I want to give that Austrian scoundrel one for his nob."

"My son," the king said, good-humouredly, "pray let him live."

"Indeed?" the artilleryman asked. But suppose they give us one, and carry your majesty off; will that be all right ?"

"Well, if that is your opinion, give him something for himself," Frederick said, now beginning to perceive the danger to which he had exposed himself.

The artilleryman did not require to be told twice; he pointed his gun, and was so fortunate as to kill the officer and his horse, whereupon the picket

bolted off.

"Come, your majesty," the soldier said, good-humouredly, "I fancy I've given him his dose ?",

"Yes," the king answered; "but you have sent the poor devil too soon into the other world."

"Too soon be hanged! Isn't that what I'm here for ?"

"You have certainly done your duty, and therefore deserve my best thanks, and a reward. Farewell, lieutenant."

"Your majesty," the worthy fellow interposed, "I am not fit to be a lieutenant, for I don't understand mathematics, or any of the scientific rubbish. I should be wretched among my new comrades."

"That is really bad, my son! Still you can be a non-commissioned officer, and till the day of your death you shall draw double pay. Does that satisfy you ?"

"It is more than I have deserved. May God save your majesty!"

Sauer (such was our gunner's name) proved himself worthy of the royal favour. He served brilliantly through the war, and, when peace returned, was appointed in 'command of Fort Prenssen, at Stettin. He married the

housemaid of Neumann, a baker in the town, who bore him one daughter, Anna, and then died. When Anna was sixteen years of age all the officers were in love with her; but her father would not stand any of their nonsense. Anna had to look after the house, and work from morning to night; for, spite of his double pay, Sauer found it difficult to make both ends meet. It would have been easy for him to fill his purse, for the aforesaid baker, Neumann, who was contractor to the garrison, offered him a handsome sum to let his bread pass without weighing it. But he had to do with the wrong man; Sauer became stricter than ever, and the baker hated him.

But the old story of the Montagues and the Capulets was to be repeated in Stettin among a humbler class. The baker had a good-looking son, who delivered the bread at the fort, and he fell in love with Anna, who was quite agreeable. His father, however, got behind the secret, upbraided Anna in no measured terms for her audacity, and Anton was forbidden to visit the fort again. But what will not love's ingenuity effect? Daily he managed to convey Anna a note, baked in one of the loaves, and which he contrived should safely reach her hands.

When the following autumn came the great king visited Stettin, for the annual inspection. Anna formed a desperate resolution, slipped out of the house, reached the king's presence, and told him all her story, reminding him who her father was. The king laughed, bade her remain in an adjoining room, and sent an aide-de-camp to command Neumann and his family to his presence. The baker came in trembling, fearing that his roguery was detected, and that it was all up with him, but recovered his spirits when Frederick told him that he had selected a wife for his son Anton.

At a sign from the king, the doors were thrown wide open, and the loving couple walked hand in hand into the cabinet. At the sight of them the baker pulled a wry face, and could not conceal his dissatisfaction.

"Your majesty," he said, in a tone of annoyance, "must surely be jesting. That girl has not a shirt to her back, and is as poor as a church mouse. With her my son must starve, for, if he marry against my will, I am firmly resolved to disinherit him."

Without deigning an answer, the king turned to the Duke of Bevern, who was also present:

"How much," he said to him, with a significant laugh, "has your grace to pay this girl?""

"Two thousand thalers," the duke replied, without hesitation.

"And you?" the king asked the Prince of Anhalt.

"Also two thousand," he answered, promptly.

"He sees, then, my dear master,' ," the king then said, turning to the astonished baker, "the girl is not so poor as he fancies. By me she has also four thousand dollars standing, and General von Trezkow will, moreover, supply her marriage outfit and a decent dinner. Now, I hope that he has no further objec tion to offer against his son's marriage ?"

"Yes, if the matter really be so, I am satisfied," Neumann replied, who, like the rest of the company, did not know whether the king was joking or speaking seriously.

"He still appears to doubt. Messieurs, we must out with the money to convince this incredulous Thomas."

By the king's order the privy treasurer brought in two heavy bags of coin, which he counted on a table. There were four thousand thalers in shining gold, which he told Anna to take.

"Now, my Lord Duke of Bevern," the king said, with a smile, "you will pay your debt to the girl."

"In truth," the latter said, with some embarrassment, "I do not remember

"Nor I, either," the Prince of Anhalt added.

"And I do not know," General von Trezkow exclaimed, "why I am called upon to supply the wedding outfit of a perfectly strange girl."

you

"Ei, ei, messieurs !" the king answered, seriously. "I did not think that possessed so weak a memory. I must, therefore, come to your help, and refresh it. Do you not remember that affair in Bohemia, when we were all in the utmost danger of being cut off by a picket of Austrian hussars ?"

"Of course," the Duke of Bevern answered. "A brave artilleryman noticed the danger, and killed the enemy's officer with a well-aimed shot." "The hussars fled," the Prince of Anhalt remarked.

"And we were saved," General von Trezkow added. "Your majesty wished to promote the worthy man to a lieutenancy, but he declined the honour."

66

Quite right," the king interrupted him; "that soldier's name was Sauer, and there stands his daughter, who seems to have inherited her father's resolute temper. Will you now object, gentlemen, to pay your debt ?"

"We recognise the liability," the three gentlemen said, simultaneously.

"The matter is settled, then," the king said. "The girl has eight thousand thalers, is handsome, good, and virtuous. Now, my dear master, are you satisfied with the match ?"

"I desire no better daughter-in-law," Neumann answered, "and gladly give my consent."

Another very charming story is told in the "Spinnstube," and relates to Fritz's brave comrade in arms, General von Seydlitz. At Zorndorff he insulted a worthy officer most grossly, who resigned. In his passion the general made an unfavourable report to the king, and the captain retired without a pension. Many years later the thought of his injustice occurred to Seydlitz, and he knew no peace till he had repaired matters. How he did so we have no space to record here: we need only mention that the anecdote is worked up into a charming little love-story by W. O. von Horn, and throws fresh lustre on the memory of the great Frederick.

One of the most valuable papers in the Almanacks is found in "Steffen's Volks Kalendar," and is entitled "Going to Law." It is the greatest curse of the German peasant that he will not let himself be put upon, and has a pernicious tendency for rushing to an advocate whenever he has the slightest misunderstanding with a neighbour. To try and check this disease, the writer brings together a number of instances from German history, some of which we will run through. In Upper Austria two peasants went to law about the ownership of a walnut-tree, which grew on the boundary line of their fields. Both thought they had an equal claim to it, and though they were recommended to take half the annual crop each, neither would give way. After three years of disputing, a flash of lightning struck the tree, broke it conscientiously in two halves, and laid one half on each side the border line. But all disputants were not so fortunate. Two peasants quarrelled about the ownership of a small ditch, value about two shillings, and the court, desirous of preventing litigation, ordered each to be paid that amount. But then came the question of costs: neither would give way, and the result was that both plaintiff and defendant were eaten out of house and home. But the most extraordinary trial of all noted here is the following:

The hero of this trial is Michael Kohlhaas, naturally an honest man, by profession a horse-dealer, thirty years of age, but, for all that, he perished miserably on the scaffold through a trifling dispute. Riding one day out of Brandenburg with a team of horses, Kohlhaas found, not far from the Elbe, a turnpike, erected by a certain Junker von Tronka to take toll of passers by. While Kohlhaas was paying the money, and shaking his head as he did so, the bailiff came down from the castle and asked for his pass, as no horse-dealer would be allowed to cross the frontier without such. Kohlhaas had already crossed eighteen times, and was thoroughly acquainted with the regulations: hence he left the team of horses under the charge of his man, and went up. to the castle to seek an explanation. He found the Junker drinking with a party, and after a while they went down into the court-yard to have a look at the horses.

The Junker admired several of them, and wished to have a deal, but the owner asked such fancy prices that they could not come to any settlement. Whereupon Kohlhaas collected his string and prepared to start. At this moment the bailiff walked up, and reminded him that he had not delivered his pass. Kohlhaas appealed to the Junker, who confirmed his bailiff, and the dealer promised to get one at Dresden, and give it up when he returned; but the Junker insisted on security, and Kohlhaas, seeing that he must yield to force, left a pair of horses in pledge, and started with the rest. On reaching Dresden he found that it was a fiction about the pass, and hurried back to fetch his horses. They were delivered to him, but he soon saw they had been changed. Full of fury, Kohlhaas went to law for restitution and compensation, but lost his cause, for his adversary was related to the judges. In vain did the horse-dealer appeal : his wife even was killed by a blow from a musket as she was offering a petition to the Landgrave. Hereupon Kohlhaas sold up all he possessed and took the law into his own hands. He enlisted seven desperate fellows, surprised his enemy's castle, and burned it to the ground. Hearing that the Junker had fled to Wittenberg, Kohlhaas, now at the head of thirty men, rode to that town, demanded the surrender of his enemy, and, on refusal, fired the town at the four corners. He defeated the troops sent against him on several occasions, and even fired Leipzig, always protesting that he would disband his men and become a good citizen again if the Junker of Tronka gave him back his two horses!

By the persuasion of Martin Luther, Kohlhaas promised to conduct matters legally. A safe-conduct was given him by the intercession of the reformer, but it was broken, and Kohlhaas put in prison. He attempted to break out, still under the fixed idea of obtaining his rights, was detected, tried, and condemned to death. The Elector of Brandenburg, however, claimed him as his subject, and he was delivered up. Kohlhaas carried on his case at Dresden and gained the day. The elector, however, was unable to let him off the capital punishment: hence the horses were delivered to him just before his execution; he made his will, and laid his head on the scaffold with a smiling face-for he had gained his rights after all.

An interesting tale will be found in "Trewendt's Volks Kalendar." The scene is laid during the War of Liberation, and the heroine having no other patriotic gift to offer, sells her hair for two ducats, which she lays as an offering on the altar of her fatherland. In the same almanack Edmund Hoefer has a slap at us in re the Macdonald affair, in a story called "Mad Tricks," describing the practical jokes performed in a quiet German garrison town by two young Englishmen, and the way in which a final stop was put to their exploits. In the present critical state of affairs, it seems a curious infelicity for German writers to keep stirring up the past ill-feeling between England and Prussia, but this is not an isolated case. In the "Spinnstube" there is a ludicrous account of a my lord, who goes trout-fishing in the Black Forest during the troubles