sin; indeed, indeed I am. I have been belied. Believe not what they tell you. My heart is as pure as it was when it came from the hands of the gods. Freia be my witness that it is so."*

In vain did the fair but unfortunate Ida plead her innocence -in vain did she pray forgiveness from her incensed sire: her condition was too apparent to doubt of her acquaintance with a lover; and his secret was too well kept for her to discover his name or quality to her father.

"I'll tame thy obstinacy, if it cost thy worthless life,” thundered forth her sire.

He twined his hands in her long yellow hair; and then dragged her to one of the lowest dungeons of the castle.

"Father! my father!" she shrieked in affright, "whither wouldst thou? This is not the way to my chamber. Oh, heaven! what would you with me? What place is this ?"

a noisome den, dug

They had reached their destination fathoms deep into the bowels of the solid rock:-damps like those of the grave dropped from the roof and adown the rugged sides -and a foul stagnant vapour pervaded it, to such a pitch as to prevent the very torches from burning.

"Here," he spake, and he gnashed his teeth grimly the while, “here shall you dwell-the companion of toads-the neighbour of death-on the threshold of the tomb-in this antechamber of the grave-until you tell me, woman of the wanton heart! by whom has my name been dishonoured in your wretched person. And you shall know, besides, what it is to

suffer chastisement at a father's hand."

As he spoke, he called aloud, and two serfs, deformed and malicious-looking beings, more like devils than men, speedily appeared.

"Scourge her till she faints," was the command he gave; and they executed it, all unmindful of her delicate sex and condition.

Six days in succession did this fearful outrage occur; and night after night the shrieks of the lovely Ida resounded through the dungeons. On the seventh she gave birth to a beautiful

*The Northern Venus, who was also the Scandinavian Pronuba.

babe, even while under the hands of her executioners; and then she died.

"Father, my dear, dear father!" were her last words; “I die. Care for my baby, for he is the son of

Her miserable sire stamped his foot with rage as her breath momentarily failed her at the point of disclosing the name of her lover, he who had disgraced his blood.

"Care for my boy, father," she resumed, as if by a last effort; "I am innocent of guilt-he is lawfully begotten, and most nobly born. Care for him, as you value my forgiveness He is the son of-Pharamund.”

and your own life.

In vain did the intemperate Sueno seek to recall existence to the mutilated body of his once lovely and still beautiful daughter;-in vain was she borne from the dark den in which she had yielded up her gentle spirit to her own chamber;-in vain were cares lavished on her corpse, restoratives applied to her lips, and repentant entreaties put up to her to return once again to life: --she was dead.

"Whom the Gods love, die young."

Spring came, like morning on the mountain tops, bringing joy in her lap to all nature; but the cruel father of the murdered maiden never knew joy more. From the hour of her death he had lived, as it were, in a painful dream; the only sign of consciousness he ever gave being in the presence of her orphan offspring. The battle-field was deserted by him;—he returned not to resume his command ;-another chief had been appointed in his place; he was lost to every feeling save remorse: that, like the prophet's rod, swallowed up all other feelings and passions. The only words he spake were, "Ida!" and, " My daughter!"

A mighty tramp, as of a numerous body of horse, was, about this period, heard one morning in the valley of the castle; and in a short space of time a princely retinue appeared at the gate. "Open for King Pharamund!" shouted a herald, who rode in advance of the squadrons.

The gates were flung wide; and the cortége entered. Sir Sueno had been roused from his lethargy by the old familiar

sound of arms and armour, and trampling steeds; and he now stood at the portal of his castle to receive his royal guest and master. But he was a changed man from what that master had seen him last. Days had been to him even as ages:-remorse had wasted his stalwart form, and sorrow had blanched his raven hair. The king started back;-he could scarce believe his eyes. After the usual greetings and salutations were made, the monarch outspoke.

"Sir Sueno, I joy to see thee; but one welcome, which I prize even more than thine, is a-wanting. Where is thy daughter?"

The old knight sunk his head, and was silent; that question had touched the chords of his heart, and caused him to relapse once more into his wonted moodiness of manner.

“In battle and in banquet, in peace and in war, noble Sueno, have you stood beside me bravely," continued the king, “and henceforth we shall never more sunder. But where is thy daughter?"

Sir Sueno replied not; he was all unconscious of the question; his thoughts were in the dungeon where his beloved Ida died he saw in idea the serfs scourge her; he heard her heartrending shrieks for mercy; and he felt that he had shewn her Pharamund was astonished at his apathy; but attributing

none.

it to emotions of a different nature, he proceeded thus:

"It is long since I loved thy daughter. Twelve moons and more have elapsed since she became my bride. In the presence of Freia alone were our nuptial ceremonies celebrated. I now come to claim her as my queen. Where is my Ida? Where is thy daughter?"

"Dead!-dead!-I killed her!" sobbed the wretched sire. "Dead! dead!"

Sir Sueno told her tale.

Pharamund was thunderstruck: he could not at first believe the miserable old man; but he was too soon convinced of the truth of his terrible story.

"See, there is her grave," said he; "I had it made under my own chamber window, that I might have my guilt always present to my mind. It is untended, you may perceive; for I could not touch it myself; and no one dared to approach it but me."

"It shall be the altar of my vengeance,” said the king. “On it you shall die. Kneel!"

The old knight knelt on the lonely grave, among the thistles and rank weeds which thickly covered it: his face looked joyful; it was for the first time since his daughter's death.

"None but me shall be his executioner,” cried the king, as thrice a thousand swords sprang from their scabbards to anticipate his intentions; "Mine, alas! is the loss-be mine alone the pleasure of vengeance."

His broad, bright glaive flashed like lightning through the air; and the next moment the ensanguined head and trunk of Ida's father fell on each side of her lowly grave.

"Lay them together," said Pharamund. “Death satisfies all feelings of hate. The tomb knows no animosities.

brave as she was beautiful."

It was done even as the king directed.

He was

Hiding his face in his hands--the babe of his beloved Ida in his arms--Pharamund then left the castle, followed by his chiefs. Such is the legend of Heimburg.

SONNECK.

The ruins of Sonneck Castle succeed, at a very short interval of space, on the same side of the Rhine. This castle is believed to have existed in its present condition since the year 1282, when it was destroyed by the Emperor Rudolph von Hapsburg as a Raub Nest (robbers' den). It is of a period anterior to this time, however, that the succeeding legend treats.

DEAD AND DAMNED.

In the days that are past, the lords of Sonneck were among the most powerful nobles on the banks of the Rhine. Graf Heinrich of that name, and Frederick, duke of Suabia, were closely connected. Once upon a time, as Duke Frederick, Count Albert von Simmera, Baron Bertold von Eberstein, and several other German knights and nobles, were at this castle, the following singular adventure occurred to Graf Heinrich von Sonneck :

In those days, the Sonn forest encompassed the castle, and extended along the banks of the river, as well as into the interior of the country, for a considerable distance. Great sport was afforded to the visitants of the count on all occasions, by the abundance of game with which this forest was stocked. On the occasion in question, the noble count and his ducal visitor, accompanied by all the guests at the castle, had gone forth early one morning with the view of tracking to cover an immense stag which had been frequently seen in the forest, but which none of the foresters had hitherto been able to approach even to within bowshot of. The conversation at supper, the preceding evening, had turned upon this subject; and the result was a resolution to seek the animal the following morning. Such was the origin of the expedition. Long and painfully did they search for their prey in the deepest recesses of the forest; but they sought in vain. The dogs were at fault-the guides lost their way-the weather looked lowering-fatigue and an unsuccessful pursuit had damped the spirits of the whole party.

"Once more," cried Graf Heinrich, " and then we 'll give it up if we be disappointed."

"But how had we best proceed?" asked Duke Frederick. Suppose we separate," said Albert von Simmera; " and that each follow the first track which offers."

"We can meet here at the fall of eve," observed Bertold von Eberstein.

"Done!" shouted all.

They separated accordingly; each pursuing an opposite path to that pursued by his neighbour.

Graf Heinrich rode on, rather annoyed at his ill-luck, and pondering on the best course to take to accomplish the end of their day's amusement. As he proceeded, the forest became so much darker-the thickly intertwining branches being almost impervious to the light-that he could scarce credit his consciousness of the time being only early evening-tide in summer. At the gloomiest part of the wood, however, he was startled by a rustling among the brushwood which formed its basis; and, all of a sudden, he beheld the object of his search spring forth from its cover. It was a stately stag-a stag of ten-the noblest

animal he had ever seen.