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continued Sybella, forgetting in her anxiety to hear of his welfare that she had continually forbidden her friend to give her any details on the subject.

"Poor David !" she murmured, at the conclusion of the long-winded narrative which was inflicted on her by Miss Saunders, as a penalty, doubtless, for the restraint she had imposed upon her.

“It is much better to let it remain a mystery. I have been nothing but a mystery since he knew me, and he will now imagine either that I am lost to him altogether, or that I am unworthy to become the recipient of such a blessing as his honest love."

And Sybella's last night in England was spent in restless wanderings to and fro in her chamber, in prayers for the welfare and happiness of the man whom she had the bitterness of knowing would doubtless think her undeserving of his affection, and in vain and futile conjectures respecting her recreant husband.

Something whispered to her that he was still living, and Mr. Elliott having reiterated his promise of not leaving a stone unturned in order to discover his whereabouts, she was in some measure reassured. Perhaps, if he knew all, he might be induced to return. Anything would be better than her present unhappy position.

She had thought with Mr. Elliott that Captain Chetwynde's peace of mind would return to him more readily if he could imagine her indifferent or fickle-hearted, and her formal letter, and the studied avoidance of his attention, would, she imagined, effect an easy cure.

“ Perhaps,” she thought," he may fancy that his words were misunderstood, or perhaps that I detest the sight of him, now that he has entered upon the field as a lover. At any rate, I need never disclose to him what I have kept from the world all these years, and an explanation by letter (as I once thought of) would be of no use to any one. No! my short dream of love shall end as it began, abruptly and in mystery.”

So thought poor Sybella, pacing about the room and giving vent to her sad reflections, instead of seeking the repose she needed for the journey next day. Tired out at last in mind and body, she threw herself, without undressing, upon her couch, but only to fall into a troubled doze, wherein she dreamt that her husband had come home and was attempting to Aling her down a precipice ; that David had appeared suddenly on the opposite side with the girl Marie on his arm; that Marie was David's wife, and that she franticly urged him to assist in Sybella's destruction ; that she had waited in breathless anxiety to see what David would decide upon doing. He had wavered and clasped Marie's hand fervently, and, in her despair at his altered manner, Sybella dreamt that she threw herself headlong into the abyss.

She awoke with a scream to find Mrs. Elliott at her bedside, her travelling dress ready laid out, and her trunks corded and labelled. She had overslept herself, and it wanted but an hour to the time of her departure (in company with Mr. Elliott) for the Ostend steam-boat, where she was to find Mrs. Pierrepont and family.

The adieux were soon made, and as Mrs. Elliott clasped her young friend to her breast, she told her that their prayers

should accompany her on her journey, and that their greatest wish was to see her once more among them, well and happy as in the days of old.

VOL. LX.

Y

316

HOW SAINT ANDERS WON THE “HOAX.

A LEGEND OF JUTLAND.

BY WILLIAM JONES.

FATHER ANDERS is off to the Holy Land;
He has purchased an outfit, and, staff in hand,
Trudges off in search of a caravan-
Certès he was a remarkable man !
No Alpine climber could match him in wind,
The best runners he left long strides behind;
As to riding, you'll read what he did in that way,
And how many acres he traversed one day.
He could swim like a fish, leap, wrestle, and fence,
And this without fuss or the slightest pretence;
And then as to learning—but here I must stop,
For with him 'twas a jump, and a skip, and a hop,
Over mountains of knowledge and torrents of ’ologies,
The rarest of sages to him were apologies.
He knew what was what to its deepest declension,
And could grind into powder each bone of contention.
A wonderful man, you will say—so he was-
Who could solve at a glance ev'ry why and because ;
His head was a top, with its thoughts ever spinning,
His words were persuasive, convincing, and winning;
In short, not to render my story too long,
He was all that was right, so could scarcely be wrong.
The pilgrims were many :-here let me remark,
That the ages they lived in are sometimes call'd dark;
If we venture to throw on the shadows some light,
There were wide-awake men who could tell day from night.
The grey gabardine, and the bonnet and shell,
Were the badges of pilgrims and traders as well

,
Who to fill a gipcire, and enlighten the mind,
A zeal for the saints and for barter combined.
A man who went shoeless, with wallet ill-stored,
Would often return well-to-do as a lord.
If self-abnegation some pilgrims sustain'd,
A trace of the leaven with others remain’d,
Not to say that without it the world would bave been
A wilderness merely for dwellers as green;
Pioneers in the wake of free trade they might be,
Who traversed the deserts and plough'd the deep sea.
But this is digressing, I wish'd but to show
How Anders was treated, so on let us go.
He found his companions were not to be trusted;
Their. notions were trivial, their plans ill-adjusted;
They sparr'd and got angry, like other frail folk,
And when Anders reproved them, rejected the yoke
For they left him one morning before he awoke.

When he open'd his eyes,
He beheld with surprise

That the pilgrims had left,

And committed a theft,
For bis scrip, and his wallet, and sandals were taken.

Thus robb’d and forsaken,
And hungry and weary,
The land strange and dreary,
The way, too, unknown

That the vagrants bad gone,
Poor Anders felt “ down," and at length fairly cried ;-
At tbis moment a figure stood close at his side.
'Twas no mortal, for wings floated light in the air;
His presence was radiant, celestial, and fair;
A glory encircled his beautiful head,
And a charm, sweet and hallow'd, his features o’erspread.
A look soft and tender on Anders he cast,
As he bade him “arise,” for his troubles were past.

“ You must hasten with me
Over land, over sea;
Long miles are before us
Ere night closes o'er us,
So dash off the spray

From your eyes, and away !"
A touch, 'twas electric, and Anders soon found
He was moving in space a great height from the ground.

Such a trajet aërial,
Such wonders ethereal,
And glories beholding,
All nature unfolding,
Its beauties, its treasures,
Computeless in measures;
Vast, mighty, and grand,

In the skies, sea, and land,
That the monk was entranced and beatified quite;
He thought 'twas a vision, mistrusted his sight,
Rubb’d his eyes, tapp'd his head, and seemed almost inclined
To believe that some sprite had made free with his mind;
But descending in haste with his angelic guide,
He touch'd terra firma, and there far and wide
Stretch'd the land of his birth,—no mistake there could be,
For he stood on the summit of Slagelse,
With the towns and the hamlets of Zealand below.
He turn’d to his guide, and with reverent bow
Breath'd thanks, then look'd up, but the spirit was gone,
And Anders return'd to his convent alone.

Such a miracle could not be kept in the shade,
It was noised far and wide what a trip had been made;

Such aerostation
Was new to the nation,
King Eric, delighted,
The father invited;
At court he was settled,
The nobles were nettled
To see him thus petted;

They fumed and they fretted,
But the king, loving Anders, was deaf to complaint,
And the Pope sent the monk a diploma of saint.

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Said King Eric, one day,
· Tell me, father, I pray,
What wish you hold dearest,
The thoughts that are nearest;
Any boon that you crave

By my word you shall have !"
The saint raised his eyes, after musing awhile,
And observed to the king with a gratified smile,
“ Your majesty's goodness just comes at my need,
I have one request, 'tis a small one indeed,
But the grant all my wishes and wants will exceed.
My convent is large and conveniently placed,
The church by your own royal bounty is graced,
All we want is a garden, some acres or so,
A few leeks and onions and parsley to grow;
Such a spot without doubt could be easily found,
If the king will permit me to traverse the ground
On the back of a newly-born colt, and make sure
The land that I pace to the convent secure.

By all means,” cried King Eric, and laugh'd in his sleeve,
“Such a modest request I can scarcely believe;
Your steed is a queer one to mount I confess,
You may get a few steps, either more, either less,
But whatever it may be, I wish you success !"
The king, with a gracious farewell

, went his way
To the batb, wbile good Anders prepared his essai.
It might not seem easy to find such a steed,
But a saint overrides ev'ry fence at his need;
One was brought to the palace,-a crowd gather'd near
Of courtiers and monks, to see what would appear.
The saint was no chicken, his frame was robust,
But he mounted without the least sign of mistrust,
And, presto! was off like a shot o'er the ground,
To the marvel of those who stood gaping around.
Away went the colt with a speed like the wind,
Long acres and broad were soon left far behind;
As far as the eye in the distance could trace
The saint was pursuing his wonderful race;
Such a course against time not a Nimrod could equal,
The stake too, were high, as we find in the sequel.
“Bravo !” cried the monks, " 'tis a miracle quite !"
But the saint out of hearing, was now out of sight.

Stop, stop!” cried the crowd, “ half the island is gone;
Let us haste to the king, and see what can be done."
King Eric was leaving his bath when he heard
What a wonderful feat on a colt bad occurr'd.
He was vex’d, but exclaim'd (as we read in the story),
“Since the 'hoax' bas been won, let the saint have the glory."

319

SKETCHES OF SUNNY SCENES AND SOCIAL

SCIENCE IN SWITZERLAND.

II. WAITING, a day or two after the events previously recorded, at the station for the train which was to take us to Thun, we were amused to find in the Intelligenz-blatt no less than eleven “Heirathsgesuchs,” or matrimonial advertisements, three of them from ladies. The celebs” almost invariably demanded a photograph of the damsels from whom they expected a reply, while the maidens who offered themselves as brides evidently cared more for the means than the features of their future lords, a direct request being made in all their advertisements that the fortune and prospects of their wooers should be stated in their answering letters

. We have mounted the broken stairs, and ascended the ladders which lead to the top of the castle of Thun-seen the long array of shields, with the quarterings of its ancient lords, that still hang upon its walls—peeped into one of the turret-rooms now used as prison cells, and are standing in the burial-ground of the parish church, which commands a perfect view of the town and lake, the rapid Aar, and grand dark Niesen mountain, with the snow-fields of the Blumlisalp stretching in their glistening whiteness behind it, when up the two hundred steps, that lead beneath a covered way from the town to the church, we see ascending a long array of mourners, followed by two men bearing a coffin. As they reach the burial-ground, the procession divides into two parties; those to whom the deceased person has belonged, who are all attired in black, range themselves along the wall that surrounds the church, while the strangers, of whom there must be at least a hundred, stand in a group at a little distance from the open grave. No clergyman is in attendance, no service is read; the coffin is slowly and reverently lowered into the grave, the cords are then withdrawn, and the strangers, walking one by one, approach the grave, look down upon the coffin, and then pass in a long line round the burial-ground; every one shakes hand with each mourner as they go by, and then the whole party descend the steps, while the grave is refilled with earth; the relations wait till this is nearly done, when they also leave the churchyard. We could not learn whether funerals in Thun were always performed with this complete absence of religious ceremony, but this one we witnessed seemed strange enough to find a place among my sketches.

Thun, with its glorious views of the Oberland, its curious doublehoused streets, its soft lake and swiftly running river, is too well known to require description; we will, therefore, pass over the pleasant week we spent there, and start at once in the little car

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