because of her proud haughtiness; but as one gentleman said, if weak wine is poured into some which is strong, it not only strengthens the weak, but tempers the strong.

After passing Lobith, we soon saw the towers of Cleves on the right bank of the river, at some distance from it, and situated just under a small hill, and then in a short time we reached Emmerich, where we waited some hours for the custom-house officers to come on board. They were very civil and not overstrict, and the examination did not take long. Emmerich is a wretched little town; but we shall never forget the wondrous beauty in which we saw it; for on that night there was such a sunset as I seldom have seen, and over those plains it appeared to special advantage. There was not a breath of wind to disturb the glass-like surface of the beautiful Rhine. Heavy clouds were hanging about, and when the sun appeared from behind one of them, not far from the horizon, it illumined everything with a blaze of glory, and the water appeared to be liquid gold. As the sun sank the golden hue gradually became one of the most intense rose-colour. The water reflected every cloud, and each pane of glass in Emmerich looked as if on fire. The old tower of the church, (greystone,) was the richest red with bluish shadows. In the west one little church stood alone, on a slight rise in the ground, up against the sky, purple and gold. One could not look at it without the thought that the spire pointing towards heaven reminded us that if so great was the beauty of earth, intense and inconceivable must be the glory in heaven, and then one was brought to the conclusion that it was not earthly glory that we saw, but a reflection and foretaste of the heavenly. The colours gradually faded, twilight crept over us, but the remembrance of the solitary spire pointing upwards, remained vividly impressed

upon us.

We started from Emmerich at three in the morning, and reached Dusseldorf at 1.30. There were some letters for us, and amongst others one from a German Fräulein, who had lived with us, saying that if we stopped at Coblenz for Sunday, she would come from Bad-Ems,

where she is staying, to see us. This was too great a temptation to be resisted, so we arranged to sleep there on Sunday night. About 6 p.m., we reached Cologne. How we had watched and longed for the magnificent cathedral to appear, and at last it towered above the banks of the river which hid the dirty, ugly houses of the town, and the churches near it only made it look more imposingly grand by comparison. It was a sultry day, heavy thunderclouds hung in the air, and the whole atmosphere was lurid.

The

My friends went on shore to see the Cathedral, but I, of course, could not go. They came back enchanted; being May, and therefore the month dedicated by the Roman Catholics to the Blessed Virgin, they had singing in the Cathedral, and most beautiful it was. sun was just setting, and this made the colours of the stained windows more rich than usual. So they told me when they returned to the steamer, and I could almost have wished to be with them. Meanwhile I had been in the Pavilion with the Dutch lady and gentleman who were so kind as to stay with me whilst my party was away. They had not gone on shore as they were afraid of the evening air for her. She told me she had been obliged to lie on her back for five months, and the doctors had been afraid that the confinement might have brought on consumption, of which her mother and only sister had died. We left Cologne the same evening, and reached Coblenz at 7.30 on Sunday morning, and went to the Gasthof zum Riesen. We were very sorry to pass Bonn and the Drachenfels in the night, but we could not do otherwise if we wished to spend Sunday at Coblenz. After we had had our breakfast, it was time to think of Fräulein W.'s arrival, and also of church. They went, and I remained alone, with a beautiful view. The situation of Coblenz is most lovely at the confluence of the Moselle with the Rhine. Just opposite to me, across the noble river, rose the well-known fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, the Gibraltar of the Rhine, which, as you doubtless know, existed as early as the time of the Romans. It fell into the hands of the French in 1799, and was blown up by them at their

evacuation, after the peace of Luneville ; not accomplish peace did.

what war

"Here Ehrenbreitstein, with her shatter'd wall,
Black with the miner's blast upon the height,
Yet shows of what she was, when shell and ball
Rebounding idly, on her strength did light;
A tower of victory! from whence the flight
Of baffled foes was watch'd along the plain.
But peace destroy'd what war could never blight,
And laid those proud roofs bare to Summer's rain,

On which the iron shower for years had pour'd in vain.”

could

BYRON.

It has, since 1814, been restored at an enormous expense by the Prussians, and is now considered to be stronger than ever. I hope this long letter will not tire but amuse you, if it does I will give you the account of the rest of this journey next time that I write.

Ever yours affectionately,

A.

LUX E TENEBRIS.

WELL I know the deep-felt anguish
Thy too tender heart hath borne;
Gentlest flowers the soonest languish
From their native soil up-torn :
Well I know thy sick aversion

To thy new and untried home,
And thou deem'st it cold assertion
That a happier hour will come.

Now unnatural horror darkens
All that should look bright and fair,
And thy spirit only hearkens
To the mutterings of despair :

But, be sure, calm faith and reason
Will resume their wonted sway;
Sharpest pain hath shortest season,
Darkest night is nearest day.

SIRRAH.

143

MIGHT AGAINST RIGHT; OR, WHICH WILL

CONQUER?

CHAPTER II.

HERR BRAUN.

THE Castle of Hohenberg stands on the top of a hill, its stately walls overlooking the broad valley, in which lies scattered a village of the same name, with its clean neat cottages, surrounded by meadows, fields, and gardens. The windows of the Castle command a magnificent view of the ravine below, and behind, groups of broad rounded mountains covered with splendid forests, and the little side valleys gradually rising towards the mountain table land. Summer in those valleys is very lovely and peaceful; the little brooks ripple merrily, and fragrant meadows cover the land, where, in the evening, when every flower and blade of grass is laden with dew, the slender deer steps timidly forth from the shaded forest glades to seek for the juicy herbs it loves so well. There, on the outskirts of the meadows, in the copses skirting the banks of the streams, where all is so calmly quiet, there the little forest birds love best to build their nests, and early and late their sweet warbles may be heard singing glad songs of praise to their Creator.

It was on an autumn day, one of those fragrant, misty autumnal days, which seem involuntarily to dispose the heart to sadness, and the mind to quiet reflection, that a pretty, slightly built boy of about thirteen or fourteen stood at a bow window of the castle and gazed sadly and thoughtfully down into the valley. Light fleecy clouds floated over the mountains, and as they sailed along showered bright raindrops on the foliage of the trees, which autumn had clothed in every varied shade of its richest colours, from the palest yellow to the deepest brown. A little robin redbreast came hopping through the thick shrubs which grew close up to the window, and looking at the boy, who did not at the first observe him,

softly twittered its melancholy song. Then the robin flew closer to the window, shook its wings, and sang louder than before, almost touching the window pane with its little beak. Now at last the boy perceived it.

"Oh, my little Minnie," said he, "you are come to remind me that I had forgotten you; poor dear little birdie, forgive me! You are right to remind me,—as long as I still live in the castle you must take your food from my hand. To-day, for the last time! To-morrow, in vain you will twitter at the window, and beat the air with your wings."

The boy's sad sweet face was convulsed for an instant with grief, and he set his teeth firmly to keep back the tear that would start to his eye. Turning hastily from the window, he opened a little box standing on a side table, and took out a handful of crumbs which he had collected for his robin. He scattered them on the window sill, and immediately the bird flew up, looking trustingly at the boy, who could easily have caught him with his hand, and began picking up the crumbs without the slightest fear. The boy watched the little creature in silent sorrow, gave it a few flour worms for a tit-bit, and then said, "Now fly away to the south with your brothers, for you will never see me again."

The bird flew a little way, and perching on the branch of a birch tree, warbled some parting songs, and then darted in rapid flight far away across the valley.

"So shall we also leave this place," murmured the boy to himself, "but not easily and happily like you, my little bird, you who have been my guest all the summer long."

He was again lost in thought, and for some minutes stood perfectly still, with his burning brow pressed against the cool pane. Suddenly he turned hastily round, and stepped from the window back into the

room.

"Grandmother," he began impetuously to a venerable old lady, who, pale and sunk in deep melancholy, was seated in an armchair close to a marble fireplace, “ Grandmother, is it then really true? must we really leave this castle, the home of my forefathers? Can nothing be