THE LADY OF EHRENECK.

FEW German legends are troubled with anything so-matter-offact as a date. I cannot tell, therefore, in what year it was that the proud family of Ehreneck relinquished possession of their castle to the owls and the bats, and the winds first filled its halls with the sound of wild revelry, that in man sad destinies had hushed. The thick ivy that climbs upon the castle towers has been my chief informant, its evidence is corroborated by many a crumbling and moss-covered stone, and thence I only learn that, without doubt, the period is distant.

Relinquishing, therefore, any attempt at a date, be it said, that in years long past, the gloomy pile of Ehreneck was inhabited, and that it then stood, as it still does, surrounded by rock and forest, in the very centre of the Hartz mountains. On one side the massive walls and towers rose abruptly continuous with a a lofty crag, whose base was shaken by the fall of a cataract into the ravine, a foaming cataract, that dashed from among the pines crowning an adjacent precipice. Mountains and deep forest were on the other sides, but these belong less intimately to our story.

The fair Rosaline was in her chamber, and looked forth into the glen, for the storm raged without, and she loved to gaze upon its fury. The black clouds swept before the moonlight as wrathful demons that would hide from human gaze an angel's glory; the wind whistled and crackled through the forest, bent the tall pines, and shook the castle walls. The swollen cataract roared, and leaped with kindred fury; and the Lady Rosaline looked forth upon the scene-for it was a noble sight; and in the tremendous warfare of the elements her mind forgot the petty feuds of man, and the dangers of the human contest in which her father was engaged. The knight of Ehreneck was absent from his castle, to besiege, according to knightly usage, the home of his enemy, Rodolf of Elfenstein.

The Lady Rosaline, having been taught by the raging storm how trivial are the little feuds of man, became next persuaded of the advantage of shelter during such a night as that on which she gazed. As she sat thus reflecting, during one of those lulls of the

tempest that usually precede a yet more furious burst, she fancied that the blast of a horn fell upon her ear; her doubt was soon satisfied, for the sound was repeated, and she became aware that some one craved admission at her own castle gate. What though the good knight, her father, was abroad, to whom could, on such a night, admission be refused? In a short time there stood before Rosaline a noble young warrior-I need not dwell upon his charms; enough that the Lady of Ehreneck, at the first glance, thought him the noblest she had ever seen, and many a brave knight, and courtier gay, had that proud beauty scorned.

No doubt that the shelter which the young knight sought from the tempest's fury was joyfully acceded, that the Lady Rosaline did her utmost for the entertainment of her guest-the unexpected enemy to whom her coward heart surrendered, the very instant be appeared in sight. But the young knight seemed scarcely sensible of the favours heaped upon him; more abstracted than is fairly to be excused when a lady seeks to entertain, the stranger substituted groans and sighs for answers to each flattering compliment, and paced the room as though the tempest still battled round his head, and he strove to escape once more from its impending horrors. Rosaline led him to the supper-table, where assembled serfs much marvelled that their beauteous lady's favours should be heaped upon such careless shoulders. And yet the stranger was not quite insensible. When ladies love (with love disinterested), 'tis hard indeed, if they cannot waken, in the favoured soul, some kindred feeling; few are the hearts that fail to be warmed when the pure, bright flame of love is bent assiduously upon them; and the young knight felt its influence; it may be, that had his mind otherwise been less disturbed, he would have thrown himself at the lady's feet, have craved her scarf to bind around his arm, that thus authorized, he might proclaim throughout Germany, Rosaline, his mistress, the fairest of the land, and couch a lance against the false breast of contradiction. He did not this, however; and Rosaline, who loved him yet the more for his mysterious conduct,—well considering, moreover, how soon he would depart,-did her best, when they were again alone, to arrive at some point agreeable to her inclinations; as a sensible damsel, having learned from her own suitors what a viper fruitless love becomes in the warm bosom of its cherisher, she determined that, if it could be prevented, she, at least, would not fall a victim to its cruel sting.

"Thou art disturbed, Sir Knight," observed Rosaline; "without

intruding upon sorrow, may I ask wherein I can furnish consolation? fain I would see thee smile."

"Smile thou, then, lady," replied the stranger, with a forced homage, "smile thou; what heart is not heavy in thy presence, what brow not bent, if that smile come not as a warm sunbeam to disperse the clouds that are around it."

Rosaline sighed. "The clouds upon thy brow, fair stranger, must have concealed the smiles that I have wasted this night through on the air. Nay," said she, passing her hand across his forehead, "disperse, thou gloom, disperse. Ay, now may thine eyes be worth a lady's love - but there is madness in them yet— wilt thou have music?"

"None but thy voice, sweet lady." Rosaline blushed, hesitating.

"Hast thou loved? Pardon a woman's question. ceived by all of us, if not expressed."

It is con

"Could my love bring blessing and not curse," replied the stranger, "I would bestow it, ah! how freely. I fear already I have loved."

"Ah!"--The maiden became pale.

"I would-I dare not-love thee !"

“Rosaline of Ehreneck would say the same :--why spoil a life's happiness by the tender scruples of a moment? I would-dolove thee!"

"Ehreneck!" cried the stranger; "storm demon, was it for this thou hast pursued me!" With frantic gesture he seized the lady's hand, pressed it to his lips, then cast it wildly from him, and hurried from the apartment. In vain did Rosaline seek to hold him back; in a few minutes he had left the castle, and had rushed forth once more into the storm.

At the period of our story trite as now was the saying and the fact that misfortunes never come singly,-Rosaline, having lost her chosen lover, received, on the following morning, the yet more afflicting intelligence of her father's death. He had been slain in a sally by the hand of Rodolf, whose castle he besieged; but the successful foe had been prevented from return, and Rodolf himself was brought prisoner to Ehreneck, there to await his doom at the hands of the daughter he had made an orphan. The unhappy Rosaline could not look upon her father's murderer, but, in the spirit of the age, sentenced him to instant death; to be hurled from some tower that overhung the precipice into the

abyss below. The willing vassals carried her commands into immediate execution, selecting for their purpose the same tower which contained the chamber of their mistress. Thus was she made partaker in the dreadful scene. The unhappy victim fell before her window, and clutched with one hand, in falling, a projecting ornament,—his face was before her, in the agonies of death-the stranger knight!-With a wild shriek she rushed forward to preserve his life, but, as she grasped him, his arm failed, and he dragged her with him into the gulf, where the foaming cataract roared a wild requiem over their shattered bodies.

The returning soldiers said, that when the knight of Ehreneck was slain, he whispered into Rodolf's ear words that seemed to push a sting into his soul, and drove him frantic ;-their secret never has transpired. Barred from return to his own castle, Rodolf of Elfenstein fled into the forest, sought refuge in the first castle that he saw, in ignorance of its possessor's name,that shelter he quitted, as we have seen,-and then was made a prisoner.

Rosaline was the last of her house. The peasants show to this day the spot where she met her fearful fate, the window and the carving by which Rodolf hung; and it is said, that when the storm is among those rocks-and it gathers often there-the spirits of the lovers are abroad, and he who listens then may hear young Rodolf tell the dreadful secret unrevealed. But none dare wander thither; and the castle has crumbled into a deserted ruin, since the death of the last Lady of Ehreneck.

PETER.

THE SPIRIT'S FIRST LESSON.

By the newly-made grave of its mother, knelt a little orphan child, with a heavy and desolate heart; for it was alone in the wide world; and its young bright eyes were dimmed with tears— the bitter tears of its earliest sorrow. Cold and bleak was the earth around; dark and cloudy was the heaven above. And the little child was weary of its life, almost before it had begun, and wished that it were dead also, and with its mother in the grave.

But the dark clouds rolled away from the heaven; and the bright beams of the summer sun burst forth in their full glory. And as the child turned its tearful eyes towards the light, a bright and sparkling radiance seemed to fill the sky with all the rainbow's

hues. For the sun of heaven had turned each tear-drop of earth

to a glittering gem.

Then came the guardian spirit of that little child, and impressed upon its young heart this truth: That when the tears of earthly sorrow dim our eyes, so that we see not the vanities of the world around us, then do we see in their greatest brilliancy the beauties of heaven:-that the guileless tears of a child's grief are the dewdrops of heaven, which water the soil of our hearts, bidding them bring forth flowers of a brighter and purer nature. And not until decked with these flowers, and perfumed with their sweet breath, have our spirits power to rise above this earth, to the spiritual world that is above us.

And into the heart of the child sunk this truth, like a seed, that with manhood ripened into glorious fruit of high and holy thoughts; so that he became a poet, and all men listened to the music of his words.

I LOVE.

I LOVE the flowers, children of spring,

Born to delight;

Yet fragrant of heaven, their gifts they bring,
To charm the sight.

I love the birds, God hath given them tongues
Sad hearts to cheer;

They learn in the heavens the angels' songs,
And sing them here.

I love the brooks, that bubble and play
The soul to soothe ;

By mirth they would teach us the roughest way
May be rendered smooth.

I love the stars, that look down on us here
Our thoughts to raise ;

As on virtues that shine in a holy sphere

Enrapt we gaze.

But above the stars, brooks, birds, and the flowers,

One far above,

Is she, who hath stolen from each its powers,

Her most I love!

PUCK.

HAL.