"BE dissuaded, Barbara: oh, do not tamper with fiends!" said the fair pious Margaret, to her young companion. "You have beauty, and much that you ought to be grateful for. The devout are always contented."

and

Barbara was a light-hearted, gay maiden, who had never known what privation is. Her native town, Magdeburg, had been destroyed a few years before; but as she was absent on a journey at that time, by a fortunate coincidence, even this event had scarcely cost her a pang. She was now lodging, along with her rich parents, in the upper storey of a house, the sole remnant of a handsome fortune, which Margaret's mother, who had become a widow early in life, once possessed. The two maidens, however, kept up a firm friendship, though their circumstances were so different, and their dispositions, if possible, still more different; but they shared, in common, a good ground-work of piety kind-heartedness. Barbara would come down to Margaret one evening, and at another time Margaret would go up to Barbara. The widow had gone out to visit a sick person, and they were sitting together at the fire-side in her little room, while each was plying the distaff carefully and industriously. "What is it, after all?" said Barbara, in reply to Margaret's anxious admonition. "It is just a frolicsome suggestion of cousin Susan's, and nothing more." "I am not satisfied with cousin Susan, and much less with her frolics. What an idea! Ought a modest, pious maiden, to seat herself, on St. Andrew's eve, in a dark room, and ask, with mystical words and gestures, who is to be her husband,-nay, and summon up spirits to show her his likeness? Barbara, the thing condemns itself. Who knows what horrid fiend you might raise! And only reflect how awful these times are. It is scarcely three years since the cruel Tilly reduced our beautiful town to dust and ashes,-only a

few houses have been left uninjured, and, praised be the wonderful goodness of Providence! that ours is among the number." "Well, then," said Barbara, smiling, "the house appears to be in luck, and this is rather an encouragement to run such a hazard." "I do not think so,' replied Margaret. "Whenever I pass through Magdeburg, and see the half-buried, half-shattered houses, and tall grass in many of the streets, and return to our safe dwelling, I am almost forced to throw myself on my knees, I feel my unworthiness so deeply; and could solemnly dedicate the remainder of my life to God, to give some proof, at least, of my gratitude for goodness so overwhelming." "The affair may well leave a deeper impression upon your mind," said Barbara, "for you were in the heart of the tumult, and it was but a hairbreadth escape that you made in the Cathedral, upon the intercession of the venerable priest, Bakius. How truly affecting it must have been, when he stood in the porch, and repeated the Latin verses to General Tilly, so that even his stony heart was softened, and he pardoned all the people, who were standing by hundreds in the church! All this has had less effect upon me. I was only told of it, you know, a month afterwards, in gay Vienna; and my parents were equally unconcerned, as they too had not been present in the scene of danger." "But what are your feelings," said Margaret," when you behold so many death-crosses on the graves of our young citizens, who died like heroes, while attempting-in vain, alas!—to defend the town? This, I would think, must at least fill every eye with tears."

No," said Barbara smiling; "for this very reason, young lovers are so rare, that I must resort to cousin Susan's ingenuity, and inquire who it can be that I am to have. Tomorrow is St. Andrew's eve. Revolve the subject with yourself till then, and accompany me. Good night!" She then left the room,

singing and laughing; but Margaret buried her face, glowing and tearbedewed, in her handkerchief.

Soon afterwards her mother came home. When she had shut the door, blown out the lantern-candle, and hung, after carefully brushing it, her clipped black velvet hood in its usual place behind the stove, she then sung the following lines :

Oh, why art thou cast down, my soul?
Why thus with grief opprest?
Art thou disquieted in me,

In God still hope and rest.

Be of good courage, and He strength
Unto your heart shall send,
All ye whose hope and confidence
Doth on the Lord depend.

Then, for the first time, perceiving that her daughter was in tears, she stroked her moist cheeks, and said, "Have I saddened you with my hymn? Ah! my good daughter, how far was I from wishing to do so! you ought rather to draw sweet consolation from these words,

Be of good courage, and He strength
Unto your heart shall send.

Be assured, Margaret, that he also will certainly be strengthened, for in pursuit of a nobler object no one could have fallen." "True! my dear mother," said Margaret; " and God will make all well." She then kissed the hand which stroked her, and sung the verse with a calmed heart, whilst the careful housewives extinguished the fire on the hearth, and they were already offering up their evening prayers in bed, when the town clock struck ten.

St. Andrew's eve arrived; but, despite of all the objections Margaret could urge against the strange and forbidding solemnities, cousin Susan's influence prevailed. She led Barbara up stairs to the dusky room, and soon after, with a sneer, glided past Margaret, who, with tearful eyes and a beating heart, was looking from the open door into the silent, glittering frostiness of the snow-covered streets.

Barbara soon rushed down the stairs in agony. Shuddering, she grasped Margaret by the arm, and whispered, as she tottered with her into the trusty room, "Ah! would

that I had followed your advice, my dear sister! Now, I know that I am irrecoverably lost! A horrible monster is to be my husband."

Margaret attempted to speak comfort to her trembling friend; she also brought smelling-bottles, medicine, and every restorative her wellregulated house could furnish. By this means Barbara was at last so recruited, that she was able to relate what had befallen her.

"You must know, Margaret," said she," that I did not positively believe what I had been told, and yet I felt icy shudders crossing me from head to foot, when cousin Susan quitted the dusky room, and left me by myself in the deepening night. But my fear increased to horror when I pronounced the mysterious words, and seated myself on the ground, according to her directions. Then the stair-case echoed with foot-falls,yes, it did,-and they were loud, as if a man was coming up,-the door creaked, and a face appeared."

She clapped her hands before her eyes, and trembled violently. "In his withered, up-raised hand, the monster bore a lantern, which threw an oblique light on his shaggy hair, on his eyes rolling with madness, and his foaming lips. 'Art thou my bride?' he shrieked out, and, gaping convulsively, he began to hop about me. Margaret, how foolish I have been! God be praised, he did not stop long, and I gathered courage and strength to make my escape to you. But what signifies that? I must become his prey soon or late. Oh, luckless prophetic eve!"

"Calm your fears," said Margaret, with a mournful smile, and a downcast blush: "calm your fears, my poor Barbara ; it has not been a spectre, but one, alas! who is a true ob ject of pity-a hapless maniac. must relate his history from the beginning.

I

"When the enemy marched against Magdeburg, no one was more active or zealous in mustering the city-soldiers than the young Lorenz Falk, who had already proved, on many occasions, the goodness of his heart, and the sincerity of his love for glory."

"I remember him perfectly," said Barbara, interrupting her friend.

"When a little, yellow-haired boy, he used to play with us before the door in my father's garden. We always called him eichkätzen, as he could spring up the trees so quickly and so fearlessly; is it not the same?" Margaret gave a nod of assent, and suppressing her tears, she continued. That was indeed a happy time. During that gloomy period which commenced with the siege, he was very often in our house, for his post kept him fixed near the walls, not far from this, and my mother thought it an honour to treat so brave a defender of the town as hospitably as she could. Ah, Barbara, what a pious mind did he then unfold! And how brave and cheerful he was! He well knew how to banish care from himself, and from all who heard him speak. Magdeburg,' he said, is placed in the hand of God, and whoever wishes to feel its weight and its power, let him venture upon our walls. He only laughed at Tilly and his cannon, and like a young, joyous lion, he poured destruction on the enemy."

“ Margaret, my dear," said Barbara, interrupting her, " you have Hushed and overheated yourself in attempting so kindly to allay my fears. Your cheeks glow like fire. Remove a little from the hearth."

Her friend hastily shoved back her chair into the gloom, and continued, though in a lower tone of voice,

"He might, indeed, be partly to blame for the inconsiderate remiss ness of the people when the enemy had apparently withdrawn, for, in this, he saw his presentiments of success joyfully realized, and he did what he could to encourage the projected festivities; but, in order to enter upon them with spirit, he advised all to rest, in the first place, after their toils. Alas! how sud-, denly did the enemy rush upon the slumbering town! Lorenz Falk fought like a lion; so did all his comrades; and if he was chargeable with any oversight, he atoned for it with his blood. He was found among the slain, under the smoking rafters of shattered houses. The deep gash on his head was at last cured, but his understanding had

deserted him, probably before he received the wound, in the heat of his impetuosity, and in the sudden overthrow of all his hopes. For those who saw him last, asserted, that he laughed aloud, and cried out, Victoria, and averred that he was fighting on the ruins of conquered Rome. Every evening he hovers about that part of the wall where he was formerly stationed, and when he sees me at the door or the window, he stops, and greets me kindly and calmly; then he returns to the little hut which he has built of rubbish at the side of the Elbe. But if he does not see me, he becomes occasionally wild and unmanageable. To-night I had neglected him. He must have slipped into the house, and terrified you, for, a short time before you came, I saw him rushing, bewildered, just as you describe him, from the house-door, and he did not even notice me."

Barbara, after thanking her friend for her consolatory information, slunk up stairs, though rather pale ; but, while undressing herself, she had not courage to look into the mirror, for fear of seeing the horrid abomination lurking behind her shoulders; and when she extinguished the lamp, she sighed with a heavy heart, "Alas! that I should have trusted to cousin Susan, and her wicked advices !"

The moon was shining brightly in her course, when the poor distracted Lorenz returned in composure to his hut. As he had not seen Margaret all day, every thing appeared to him inexplicably confused, and almost bent upon thwarting his wishes. In the twilight, he had thrown all into disorder,-his chair, and table, and stool, and bottles, and plates; but as the moon-beams were streaming forth, he again arranged his little furniture, and began to sing a plaintive air.

Young citizens, who were crossing the Elbe-bridge, stopped, and heard him with emotion; maidens, in the adjacent houses, listened behind the half-opened windows, and wiped their eyes.

Next morning, cousin Susan came to Barbara, and asked to know the issue of the experiment. As she

beauty in Germany. Above, there arose a great uproar. They heard the Count whetting his sword against the walls and doors of the passage, and Barbara weeping bitterly, and calling out to her bridegroom not to despair; then her father spoke some harsh and violent words. About an hour afterwards, quietness was restored. The Count came down stairs with a heavy bag of money under his arm, smiling and bowing; Barbara's mother lighted him to the door, and made a confused and elaborate apology for the disturban

ces.

In a few days, the whole town knew what had happened. The Count had been unfortunate at play with some gambling strangers, and he had pledged his word of honour that he would discharge his debt instantly. His intended father-in-law had been almost compelled, by the joint intercessions of mother and bride, to assist in saving him from ignominy and despair; but for some time afterwards the revellers were at rest, the Count appeared humble and silent, and Barbara laughed no more when Lorenz Falk, with his melancholy, distressful salutations, passed by Margaret's window.

But every thing was soon changed. Ample remittances were despatched from the Count's estates; and Barbara's father received the money he had lent, with great interest, and splendid presents besides. The festivities were renewed, and had come to a height the evening before Barbara's marriage. Margaret being disturbed, as well as her mother, by the deafening clamour in their other wise peaceable habitation, they had withdrawn together to the corn-fields. There, under the stars that praised him, the matron had hung with joy, and expatiated, in affecting language, on the goodness of God, who had blessed the ripening harvest. Margaret culled a nosegay of beautiful Howers, and she also returned home in peace of heart. But when she heard the sounds of the cornet and the trumpet swelling from the windows of the bride, she felt as if the kindliness of her heart was beginning to contract. Her mother looked on her, and said, with a shake of the head, "Ah! Margaret, I hope something akin to that wicked spirit,

envy, may not be nestling in your heart, otherwise so pure." "God forbid, dear mother!" said the maiden. "My feelings are not disturbed on my own account, but on Barbara's. A fearful misgiving has for weeks almost tortured me to death." "Will you make a trial of yourself?" replied her mother. "Go immediately up, and present your flowers to the Count's bride; modestly and submissively wait at the door till she throw upon you and your trifling gift a favourable look, and if you can do all this with unruffled, charitable feelings, then you are safe from infection." Mother of my heart," said Margaret, "cheerfully will I obey you; but consider that poor Lorenz will soon come up the street, and if I do not return his salutations from the door or window, he is thrown into disorder. You know that too well." "Why," said the old woman, "let him try to shift without you for once. Such obstacles the evil one always suggests whenever we are disposed to a useful trial. In the Lord's name, my daughter, go immediately."

Margaret humbly obeyed, and, sighing for poor Lorenz Falk, she went with her flowers up stairs.

"the

In the brilliant saloon above, Barbara was surveying the people who were admiring, at the doors, the splendour of the festal preparations; and she was too attentive to every thing that flattered her self-importance, not to mark her old friend immediately. She also observed that Margaret wished to speak to her, and intended to present her with the nosegay she held in her hand; " but," thought she, envious, repining girl may wait;" so firmly had cousin Susan's poisonous insinuations taken root in a heart once so pure and kindly. But when the bridegroom sprang down the stairs, in order to make such arrangements, that a musical band on the outside might repeat, like an echo, the tunes that directed the dancers within, the bride thought, "it will be better to despatch the poor thing that is dancing attendance upon me, as I have more leisure now than I may expect afterwards."

She immediately stepped up to Margaret, and, when the latter tendered the flowers with a humble