kuchens, men smoking, and women knitting. Now an old man went halting by; one almost wondered what he had to do with a Kirchweih and its merry dance; and yet a Kirchweih is a national, and I might almost say a religious festival, and none willingly absent themselves from it. Presently a waggon came along laden with provisions; kuchens or breadcakes, a yard square, covered with rows of plums or apples, loaves of black bread a foot and a-half in length; and even more substantial delicacies in the shape of Brobdignag sausages of various denominations. Eating and drinking and merry-making certainly seem the heart and soul of a Kirchweih.

It is not so very long ago in England that there were institutions very similar to the Kirchweih of Germany. For the Kirchweih, like the English 'veasts' in the vale of the White Horse, is a feast of the dedication, and has to a certain extent a sort of sacred character. Each village has its own Kirchweih, to which young and old, and high and low,

and rich and poor repair, a festival to which all look forward, and at which all rancour and enmity seem forgotten, and friends and foes meet in perfect harmony. For days before, preparations are going on; the fatted calf is killed, and sheep and oxen are led to the shambles, and the large light Kirchweih cakes are made, and all the 'wecks' of the surrounding bakeries are bespoken. Bands of itinerant musicians flock to the festive village, and present themselves at every beerhouse, satisfied to share the fun and partake of the hospitality they are sure to meet with. There is no insobriety, no immoderate revelry; the young men and girls dance, the matrons gossip over their stockings, and the patriarchs of the village sit over their schoppens and smoke. night there are the village schoolmaster, the master of the quarry works, the butcher, the miller, and the farm servant, all talking together by the door of the Harp;' there is a feeling of fellowship amongst them all, and the festival, if it has lost some of the sanctity

To

which its name implies, still retains the best sanctity of all, namely, brotherly kindness.

6

The Mässingers, like most of the other wealthy peasants of the valley, dispensed their favours from beer-house to beer-house. From the Harp' to the 'Prince,' from the 'Prince' to the 'Eagle.' At the Harp,' the music was loud and merry, and the supper tables were filled with friends, and there the old miller regaled his party on sausages and potatoes, and emptied bottle after bottle of the light Auerbach wine. Lisette found her bridegroom waiting for her, and they all sat down together at the oblong table in the supper room; Lisette looking very buxom and stolid, and not at all like a bride. Neither she nor Otto Mittler seemed to have any peculiar enjoyment of each other's society; Lisette's honest, good-humoured face wore the same expression to each, and Mittler's attention was absorbed by the sausages she handed, and the wine she dispensed.

As soon as the supper was over, he asked her to dance with him. There were prettier

girls than Lisette in the dancing room, waiting for partners, but then they were not worth twelve hundred guldens like Lisette, and though all were friends at a Kirchweih, Lisette's fiancé knew how to estimate the worth of his bride.

6

Where is Heinrich ?' said Mittler. I thought we should have found him here. There is Marie Dreuser-I have seen her refuse several partners already; I suppose she is waiting for him.'

'She'll have to wait long enough tonight, then,' said a voice behind.

It was

Arnold, the gardener at the Villa. But what could he know of the love affairs of the valley?

'I'm sorry Marie should be waiting for him,' said Lisette, good naturedly. 'Heinrich has no desire for dancing, and he does a thing unwillingly when it is expected of him. There he is, standing in the doorway.

Are you not going to dance to-night ?? said Otto to him, a few minutes after, as he passed him with Lisette on his arm.

'Cannot say; maybe when the right partner appears.

'So! is she not here already? I know of more than one whom I should imagine would be glad to dance with Heinrich Mässinger.'

Each to his own taste,' said Heinrich curtly; and as Otto and Lisette turned away in the waltz, he walked into the courtyard.

He felt dull and dissatisfied, and half inclined to return home and look after the Cinderella who was so late in making her appearance.

At the last Kirchweih he had danced with any girl, looking out only for those who minded their steps and kept their time, and had a neat foot and a light figure; he had danced with Marie Dreuser perhaps more than anyone, simply because she was one of the best dancers in the room; he had not counted how often he had asked her to be his partner, but she had, and the small Auerbach world had looked on, and had talked of Heinrich and Marie as likely to be