might not miscarry, I sent the appellants after it by ship loads, until his holiness heartily wished the appeal and the locusts that followed it in the Red Sea. You will do wisely to profit by the warning which their example should convey to you."

Having said this, he turned towards Alvarez and Mary Wentworth, and, passing an arm of each through his own, led them unmolested through the several gates of the prison. Mary glanced at his countenance, and perceived that the sardonic smile, which had marked it while in the presence of the inquisitor, had passed away, leaving in its place his wonted sternness, softened, she thought, by somewhat more of solemnity than she had hitherto observed him to assume. He walked on between them in silence until they arrived within a few paces of the principal street in Lisbon, when he stopped, and said-" Here we part: I have risked my power, and, it may be, my life, to save you. But be that my care: all I ask of you is, get you out of this city, for it is no abiding place for either of you. There is an English vessel in the bay; this officer," beckoning to him a person in uniform, whom, for the first time, they observed standing within a few yards of them, "will assist you in getting your effects on board: follow them with all despatch: for twenty-four hours you are safe beyond that time I will not answer for your lives. Let me hear of your arrival in England. May God bless and keep you! Farewell!" He pressed the hand of each, and they saw him no more.

It is scarcely necessary to add that the advice was followed before half of the allotted time had expired, they were on their voyage, which proved safe and prosperous. W. H. HARRISON..

LORELEY, A RHINE LEGEND.

FROM yon rock's topmost height,
Where sleeps the fair moonshine,
Looks down a lady bright,

On the dark-flowing Rhine.

She looketh down and over;
She looketh far and wide,
Where'er the white sails hover :-
Youth, turn thine eyes aside!

Fair though her smiles be to thee,
Beware the spell she flings;

She smiles but to undo thee;
With siren heart she sings.

She looketh on the river

As if she looked on thee:
Heed not the false deceiver

Be deaf, be blind, and flee.

For thus she looks on strangers all
With witching eyes and bright,
While her streaming locks around her fall
In a dance of golden light.

The light it doth resemble

The deep wave's deadly gleam—

As deep and icy. Tremble

To trust the treacherous stream.

An aged huntsman sat on a mossy stone, by the cave of Goar, close to the banks of the Rhine, and sung these verses to the gentle murmur of the river, whose waves bore a small boat, in which a youth was seated. The frail bark had nearly reached the Bank, a dangerous whirlpool in that part of the river, which calls forth all the art of the helmsman to avoid being carried down in it; but the

beautiful youth, heedless, or unconscious of his danger, kept his eyes steadily fixed on the summit of a high rock, whence a lovely female form looked down, and seemed to smile sweetly upon him.

The old huntsman raised his voice when he beheld the young man's peril; but he heard not the warning: his lute, his oar, and his cross-bow, had all dropped unnoticed into the stream, and nought remained to the entranced youth but his cap and swan plume, which was fastened by a ribbon to his neck, while the increasing rush and roar of the waters rendered his situation more perilous, and the voice of the huntsman less audible. It was the lovely maiden, who sat on the top of the rock, that engrossed the youth's whole thought and sense. She seemed to gather glittering pebbles from the rock, and ever and anon to cast them merrily down into the water, where they vanished in the shining foam. The youth thought that the beautiful

maiden was smiling upon him; and he sat motionless, with his arms stretched out towards her, gazing upon her as on a star, till his little skiff was borne upon the sharp rocks, and the whirlpool threw its gigantic arms around the youth, and drew him to its breast. But the lovely Loreley only looked down upon the scene as if it pleased her, and, smiling like a child from under her beautiful long hair, threw down fresh pebbles into the boiling whirlpool.

The huntsman raised his bugle-horn, and blew so wildly on it, that his hounds began to howl around him, and some fishermen, who were occupied at a distance catching salmon, rowed towards him; but the youth was sunk beyond recovery, deep, deep in the whirlpool. Then the huntsman said to the fishers, "Did you see how the witch up yonder rejoiced over the destruction of this poor youth? how she bent her ear and listened to the roar of the waves whilst they sucked him in, and hissed over him, as if they mocked his silly love?" But a young fisherman answered, "Is the maiden who sits up there on the

ley* to blame if an imprudent boy should gaze on her with those eyes which he never should have turned away from the waters? She did not send the whirlpool to meet him he himself rushed into his own grave." Then the fishermen told the huntsman how sometimes, in the still evenings, the beautiful fairy had appeared to them, sitting quite close on the banks of the river; and how she had beckoned them with friendly smiles to go hither and thither with their nets; and how they always drew their nets up abundantly filled with fishes, when they followed her directions. "But if you venture to approach her," said they,"and who would not desire to do so? she is so beautiful,she gets angry, and vanishes like a mist. Whether she rises up into the air, or plunges down into the deep, nobody can tell; and nobody knows who and what she is."

Shaking his head, the old huntsman went away, in the darkling evening, to the other side, towards Bacharach. Close to this town stood Stahleek, a castle where the pfalzgraft resided. Many tales had been told at the castle of the marvellous lady, who sometimes, in the twilight, or when the moon shone, would appear on the rock; but none of the pfalzgraf's household had ever seen her; and he often warned them not to let themselves be led away by vain curiosity, remarking that he whom God preserved from all intercourse with such phantoms of hell, should rejoice in his mercy, and entertain no wish that it were otherwise.

But the son of the pfalzgraf, a beautiful youth, whom it seemed as if the spring had chosen for its harbinger, and who changed all into spring wherever he looked and smiled, had often turned his eyes wistfully towards the place from which came the wonderful tales of Loreley. Yet he dared not go thither; for his father and mother had become aware of his feelings, having been told by his

* On the Rhine, a slate rock is called a ley.

A judge,

playfellows what a picture he had drawn of the fairy, and how all his thoughts and wishes were directed towards her. Whatever came to his knowledge regarding her, was never forgotten again, but stood forever in transparent beauty before his imagination, which would sometimes picture her seated high upon the rock, surrounded by party-colored snakes, and green lizards, which crept about among the glittering stones; and ants, which came in long troops, as if they were carrying gifts to her; while the full moon showered down red gold into her lap. Sometimes, when all around the banks and the river was veiled in twilight, he thought he saw Loreley standing there in the rosy solitude, singing her monotonous song, while beneath her the Rhine flowed on with lonely murmurings, and the timid birds, awaking from time to time, flew up into the air, and the late evening glow still hovered above the tops of the mountains.

The same evening on which the huntsman came to Stahleek, Hagbert-for such was the name of the son of the pfalzgraf-was seated, with his sister, Wana, on the declivity of the neighboring Kühlberg, opposite the Voightsberg, upon whose sunny sides the costly vine prospers. They saw the boats passing over the water, and many beautiful spots reflected on the river like the looks of love and of longing. Many a tale they had told to one another; and now the brother and sister sat holding each other's hand in silence. Wana was Hagbert's confidant, and she knew wherefore he sighed, and breathed so ardently towards the distant vapor, under whose golden and blue veil the mountains seemed to heave like a bosom, in which many a sweet and many a painful secret is concealed. All around was silent: the trees moved as if they were lulling one another to sleep; the odorous pinks and violets near the rock shut their eyes; the little brooks alone continued to beat and murmur like the veins of life in a dream: behind the darkling trees and bushes, the tops of the gilded