seem least tame. The woods are super- I know few spots more beautifully unvised by foresters, in green uniforms kempt than is a certain rocky pass in the and glazed caps, who take care that the Saxon Switzerland. The steep sides are trees shall be planted in straight lines, rank with mossy verdure-cool and and affix its label to every tenth trunk. moist with trickling springs. Tender Who but a hypocrite would pretend to ferns bend greenly athwart dark backlose himself in a forest, all whose trees grounds of stony clefts. Beside the rugwere numbered? Nay, in some places ged pathway bubbles over rocks the (the royal park for instance) are certain glancing soul of a cold brook. High up, respectable-looking old vegetables, which the slope whispers with thick-growing no one would suspect of such enormity, pines, mingled with trees of less austere which are provided with names and titles foliage. Highest of all, grey crags crowd into the bargain. We may find them set abrupt and angular against the sky, and forth in the forester's book thus: "No. cast jagged shadows on the opposite 27. Oak. Heinrich the Stout." "No. steep. Listening closely, we hear only 28. Elm. Karl the Long-legged." What the brook and the pines, and a dapper is to happen to a people who can do such bird or two, and a torrid hum of invisithings as this? ble insects. "Here, at last," we murWe cannot fly beyond the possibility mur, "is the unprofaned retreat so long of a Saxon, so long as we remain in Sax-desired in vain !" ony. No matter where we are, he has been there just before us; and hark! battlement which the siege of centuries his step approaches from behind. But see yonder thickly wooded dell, the abode of nymphs and hamadryads, surely unprofaned as yet by any human presence let us plunge into it, and woo its sweetly shy inhabitants. Quickly we pass its limits, and are engaged in pleasing conflict with reluctant branches. Virgin moss yields beneath our feet, we hear Arcadian twitterings of birds. The bare exterior world is shut out and forgotten. We listen for the light step of the wild nymph amidst the bushes, and scan closely the rough bark which seems ready to start asunder at the magic pressure of the hamadryad's finger. But looking again at that immemorial set has so grandly scarred, we see painted, Look! what flutters on the turf of yonder fairy glade? Is it the rosy girdle of some woodland being, who, frightened at our approach, has left it behind her in her too hasty flight? We draw near with reverent feet, and stand beside it. ... Pick it up if you will: a small paper bag of a raw pink colour, bearing on one side the legend, "Rudolph Kretzchmar, Indeed, there are the stone-breakers, Cigarren-Handlung, Georg Platz, Dres- who take up their abode along our whole den." Ay, he and his customers are line of march. They are a class by thembere, all about us. We strike a path selves; I cannot imagine their following leading to the nymph's grot - 'tis a any other profession. They are mostly smartly painted beer-cabin, with square, time-gnawed old fellows, whose bones yellow wooden chairs and tables. The seem to have been cracked long ago by nymph and the hamadryad, in soiled pet- their own hammers. They wear great ticoats and rolled-up sleeves, are scrub- goggles of wire-gauze, which give them bing the floor and window; while Pan an impressive air of gloomy cadaverousstands yonder in a swallow-tailed coat, ness. A huge wooden-soled shoe prowith a napkin under his arm, and an- tects their foot from stray knocks. On swers to the title of Kellner. Bring your frequented roads a canvas screen is set best beer, waiter, and draw it cool. We up, to protect the passer by from flying need refreshment! stone-sparks. We hear the dull inter mittent beat and crack, but see only the across your unfortunate face, till every head of the hammer as it rises occasion-feature was obliterated. Is there any ally above the screen for a harder stroke. remedy? I see none, short of a general The men seem to take an interest even eruption, whereby the whole surface in such work as this. An extra hard bit might be broken up in volcanoes, and of stone arouses their combative instinct; become a Switzerland indeed. And may and they have a sensation of pleasure the physical upheaval be prophetic of a when a fragment divides into pieces of moral one! It is of significance that the proper size and shape; while, if it mountainous tracts are ever inclined to weakly crumble, they damn it with con- freedom. tempt. Thus with their hammers do However, the country is not flat in the they sound the whole gamut of the emo- prairie fashion. It appears so only as tions. Occasionally they pause from the eye sweeps it from a distance. But, labour, straighten their stiff old backs, traversing the seeming plain, we find it and glance at the sun, to see how far he everywhere seamed by narrow gullies, in is from dinner time. Before falling to which the villages lie; so that it were work again, they look critically at their better described as an agglomeration of next neighbour's stone-pile, and exchange low table-lands. Beautifully verdant a grunt or two with him. Like other world-they are in spring and in summer, and toilers, they sometimes think themselves pleasingly variegated with squares of hardly used the sport of fortune, and many-tinted grain and produce. Moregrumble that they would have done bet-over, there is an extraordinary abundance ter as watchmakers, or painters on porce- of wild flowers rather an abundance lain. In point of fact, however, stone- than a variety. I have seen tracts of breaking is all they care about on earth, seven acres actually carpeted with panand, were they compelled to forego it, sies, whose myriad little faces show at a they would break their old hearts in de- distance like a purple haze. Amidst the fault. Even and regular stand their green young wheat grow deep-azure cornstone-heaps, end to end, and each is pro- flowers and scarlet poppies: an armful vided with its number, painted on a might be gathered in a few minutes. larger piece of flat rock. Labelling and The banks of country lanes are often classification is carried thus far, in Sax-blue with harebells; and anon we pass ony; and I cannot kick a pebble from great clover-meadows, humming with my path without more or less disorgan- bees. This commonness of beauty perizing the schemes of the government at Berlin. XI. haps mars that finer enjoyment which needs rarity as the finishing flavour. Nevertheless it affords a broad, triumphant satisfaction. I AM Continually oppressed with the A more concrete taste may be gratified idea that immeasurable possibilities for by the cherries a stable produce of fine scenery are wasted in Saxony. The Dresden neighbourhoods. In spring, so Saxon Switzerland is to be sure as pic- thick are the blossoms, the trees resemturesque as could be desired. But it is ble white branching coral; but the peran abrupt topographical anomaly, up- fume is faint, as is likewise the flavour of rearing itself in a reactionary manner out the fruit itself. Flavour or not, they are of a tedious extent of plain. From a agreeable eating in warm weather, and great distance we see the vast square- cheap enough to tempt imprudence. We built rocks lifting their shoulders a thou-may sit on the bench beside the cherrysand or twelve hundred feet skyward; booth, and see our plateful gathered from they seem to own no relationship to the the tree over our heads: or, for a consilly fields that smile at their feet no sideration, mount the tree ourselves, and sympathy either of form or substance. work our will upon it. The cherries are I find a shrewd correspondence between this typographical anomaly, and that mental one which uplifts, above the low level of ordinary German intelligence, the enduring group of cloud-capped giants which has given the land its reputation. Why so flat and tedious, O Saxony? as though some enormous incubus had for ages been rolling its heavy length of all kinds and colours, from black to white, and are recommended by the vendor as good for the blood. We devour them, therefore, with the self-complacency of a health-seeker added to the palatal enjoyment; and were it not that they are dismally apt to be wormy, our pleasure would be without alloy. Agreeably suggestive are the booths themselves little board huts, planted XII. WE must turn our steps homeward: at yonder crossing is a guide-post, which should tell us our way, and the distance. Small risk of getting lost in Saxony, if in the green midst of the cherry-country. I longed rain, or a wind perverse enough The season lasts from the end of June on to blow the smoke in at the hut-door, into August-the mellowest slice of the would impair our ideal humour. year; and if enjoyment of nature be ever unconsciously possible, the cherry-people must be happy. Material cares they have none, for their business can lose them nothing, and is apt to pay them well. Each merchant hires a number of trees for the season, paying a percent-guide-posts can prevent it: though their - not on what they bear, but on what he sells. The only danger for him is a total failure of the cherry-yield, in which case he would be liable for ground-rent; but this occurs only thrice a lifetime. age usefulness is sometimes impaired by the illegibility of the names inscribed upon them: the "nach" is the only part of the direction which is always distinct. Nor are the estimates of distances often The booth contains a single room, in of much service, especially when couched which sleep the merchant and his family, in terms of "Stunde." Theoretically, like caterpillars in a web. The cooking- two Stunde go to a German mile; but, in stove is wisely put outside on the grass, practice, they vary as the length of variand the interior thus kept free from ous men's legs. What is an hour's walk smoke and heat. The wife sits in the for one, another may accomplish in half doorway nursing the baby, while the the time; and a dim recognition of some other children, who are incredibly dirty, such fact has led the people to qualify but all the happier therefor, play together their Stunde by an array of adjectives, in a desultory way, or tease a cross- which complicate if they do not relieve grained cur who is always an outspoken the difficulty. The government milefoe of intending customers. At noon, stones, however, are distinct from the when the baby goes to sleep, mamma guide-posts, are a newer institution, gets dinner: the family gather together: in the afternoon the man smokes his pipe and so the day passes on. Delightful-all this: the leisure; the trees beneath whose shade we sit, all the time working for us and supporting us; the amusement of watching our guests their various fashions of eating, their remarks and questions, their discontent or satisfaction, their manner of payment and of departure. With what independence would we prepare our noonday meal, and how appetizing a fragrance would go up from our fried trout and our bacon and greens. Then light we the after-dinner pipe, whose blue smoke ascends skyward through the green leaves of the tree beneath which we recline. At night, how comfortable to lie on our matting, amidst the country hush, hearing the summer winds come soft-footed up the valley and pause at our window; occasional cherries dropping, over-ripe, with a gentle pat on the roof above; half-conscious, during the night, of the whispering passage of a shower; to fall asleep, secure in the watchfulness of the dog on the threshold; to dream of Arcadian shepherdesses; to awake, fresh, in the early morning, gather betimes our basket of fruit, and sit down to await our first customer. But I suppose the real life, especially when there are babies, does not run on quite so unexceptionably. A pro and as rigidly accurate as their elder brethren are lax. Solid and orderly are they, arched over the top, and consecrated with the government monogram. They look like gravestones, beneath which we may fancy the particular mile recorded on them to be interred. German miles are so long, that we never get on such familiar terms with these milestones as we do with English ones; and the decimal fractions are a sore trial of friendly forbearance. As we descend the slope towards Dresden, the long panorama is rich with peaceful beauty. There rise the spires and domes, mellowed by the western sun; the white-gleaming river; the further shore dotted with white villas; the pine-shaded horizon; and, wide and high above all, the grand phantasmagory of cloudland. It is in this point of cloudscenery that Dresden surpasses all places I have seen. The time will some day come, after we have learnt to travel by telegraph, and have become familiar to satiety with terrestrial beauty, that there will be pilgrimages, not to the Alps and to Niagara, but to the land of superbest clouds. Clouds never can become hackneyed, for their forms and tints are infinite, and no Murray or Baedekker can lay down rules and usages about the seeing them. In any true sense of the word, they are indescribable · save by lady novelists, new to their profession, whose ideas are apt to be cloudy. In every way they are the most elevating part of nature entrapping our eyes at the horizon, and leading them zenith-ward. Without clouds, the bare, blue, unchanging sky would become intolerable. Man cannot bear unmitigated heaven, any more than he can do without clothes. Clouds are the garments of the sky, and each new costume seems fittest of all. Throughout the world it is the garment that is beautiful. Trees have their leaves, rocks their moss, soil its grass, the earth its blue atmosphere, the atmosphere its clouds. From Blackwood's Magazine. THE STORY OF VALENTINE; AND HIS BROTHER. CHAPTER XXXI. (continued.) THE men did not know what had happened, but something had happened; they came crowding about her, while she, half sunk in the soft slime, dragged up in her arms out of the water the unconscious figure. She had his head on her arm, holding him up, half on land half in water, when they got to her. She was paler than he was, lying there upon These vapoury mountains quite outdo her, marble-white in his swoon. "Is he their solider rivals; but inspire the im- dead?" they said, coming up to her with agination with promise of celestial proto-involuntary reverence. She looked at types yet fairer than they. With their them piteously, poor soul, and held the unlimited range of form and shade, they inanimate figure closer, dragging, to get may arouse all sentiments from gro-him out of the water. Her pale lips tesque to sublime. And they prepare gave forth a low moan. No one asked the untravelled mind for all the best what right this strange woman had to that earth can show. No alps, no cas- look so, to utter that hopeless cry. No tles by the sea, no palaces in Spain, one even said, "He is nothing to her;" can surprise him who from his own house- they recognized the anguish which gave door has seen the sun set. And not the her an unspoken, unasked right to him, traveller only, but the wit, the humourist, and to them, and to all they could do. the student of character, may find stimu- And nothing could be easier than to lant for thought and food for reflection draw him from the river, to place him in in the clouds find his noblest fancies the punt, where she sat down beside outdone, his completest theories proved him, and with a gesture of command inadequate. But how is this? Yonder pointed to her house. They took him celestial cloud-pinnacle, up whose steep there without a word. Carry him in,' acclivity our high-flown thought was she said, and went before him to show clambering, has subtly sculptured from them the room. "Go for a doctor." its facile substance a set of demoniac They obeyed her as they would have features, which twist themselves into a obeyed Lady Eskside herself. They sardonic grimace of mockery at our en- thought Val was dead, and so did she. thusiam. Our parting digression has car- She stood and looked at him, when they ried us too far we must get back once rushed away to get help for her, in a mismore to the sober highway. But we re- ery of impotence and longing beyond all turn, also, to the opinion which has ac- words to say. Oh, could she do nothing companied us throughout our day's ram- for him! nothing! She would have given ble that the solidest attractions of her life for him; but what is a poor Dresden and its suburbs are the impal- mother's life, or who would accept so pablest ones, and the least desirable. If easy a ransom? She could only stand so it be, the Saxons need not repine. and gaze at him in hopeless, helpless, Only the baser part of things is commu- miserable anguish, and wring her hands. nicable; and doubtless the pleasanter She did not know what to do. features of the Garden of Eden are those, whereof no tradition has come down to JULIAN HAWTHORNE. us. Fortunately, however, the doctor came very speedily, and soon engaged all her powers. He turned away the good fellows who had fetched him, and called the servant from the kitchen. 66 Quick, quick! every moment he remains in this state makes it worse for him," said the man, who knew what could be done; and, though he was kind and pitiful, had no sword in his breast piercing him through and through. Val came back to life was ill. No, no," she said; "no, no. I never It was I who got him out of the water. I'm strong; look, doctor, what an arm I have. I can lift him if it's wanted. Let him stay; oh, let him stay!" after awhile and to semi-consciousness. now. I am not one to get excited. I She had not expected it. She had thought he was dead; and you brought obeyed the doctor's orders in a stu-him back. God bless you! He has por, docile but hopeless; but what a been as good as an angel to my boy. tumult, what a tempest woke and raged I'll nurse him night and day, and never in her as she saw life come back! She give way. Let him stay here." kept quiet, poor soul, not daring to say "You are not strong enough; you'll a word; but her joy worked through her get ill yourself," said the doctor. "Then veins like a strong wine; and she felt as you know who he is? Be sure you write if she could scarcely keep standing, to his friends at once. But he'd much scarcely hold her footing and her com- better go to the hospital; you'll get ill posure against the rapture that seemed too to lift her up, to make a spirit of her. Saved! saved!—was it possible? She had borne speechless the passion of her anguish, but it was harder to fight with and keep down the tumult of her joy. "Come here," said the doctor, speaking in peremptory tones, as it was natural when addressing a person of her class. "I want to speak to you down-stairs. Sit down. Have you any wine in the house? where do you keep it? Be still, and I'll get it myself. Now take this; what's the matter with you? Did you never see a man nearly drowned before?" "No," she said, faintly, keeping up her struggle with herself. She wanted to cry out, to laugh, to dance, to shout for joy; but before the man who eyed her so strangely, she had to keep still and quiet. She put the wine aside. "I don't want anything," she sail. "Your arm is all very well, but your pulse is a different thing," said the doctor. "If you go and fret and excite yourself, I'll have him off in an hour. Well, then, you can try. Come and let us see how he is getting on now." "They are as like as two peas," he said to himself, as he went away. "He's somebody's illegitimate son, and this is his aunt, or his sister, or something, and he don't know. God bless us, what a world it is! but I'd like to know which he's going to have, that I may settle what to do." CHAPTER XXXII. Your pulse is going like a steam-engine," said the doctor; "cry, woman, for I AM afraid I cannot tell any one God's sake, or let yourself out somehow."which" it was that poor Val had, not What's the matter with you? Can't you speak? then cry!" She sank down on her knees; her heart was beating so that it seemed to struggle for an exit from her panting, parched lips. "I think I'm dying-of joy!" she said, almost inaudibly, with a sob and gasp. "Poor creature, that is all you know," said the doctor, shaking his head; "he is not round the corner yet by a long way. Look here, do you know anything about nursing, or do you often give way like this? On the whole, I had better have him moved at once, and send for a nurse." "A nurse!" she said, stumbling up to her feet. "Yes, my good woman. You are too excitable, I can see, to look after him. There's something the matter with him. I can't tell what it is till I see him again. Who is he? but how should you know? He had better go to the hospital, where he can be well looked to "Sir,” she said, eagerly, "I'm myself having any medical knowledge. He was very ill, and lay there for the week during which Dick was absent on his master's affairs, knowing nobody, often delirious, never himself, unable to send any message, or even to think of those he had left behind, who knew nothing of him. He talked of them, raved about them when his mind wandered, sometimes saying things which conveyed some intelligence to the mind of the anxious woman who watched over him, and often uttering phrases which she listened to eagerly, but which were all blank and dark to her. Poor soul! how she watched, how she strained her ear for every word he said. Her own, thus, once more; thus at last in her hands, with none to come between them; dependent on her receiving from her the tendance of weary days and sleepless nights. Receiving from her, not she from him- eating her bread even, so to speak, though he could eat nothing living under her roof - dependent on her, as a son should be on a mother. |