time, and that he had given the rock the name | begged to be left alone. She puzzled herself of "The Rock of the Legion of Honor;" for he owed to the painting which he had brought out the previous year his reputation, and that external badge of distinction, which, as the world goes, is not to be slighted.

with conjectures in regard to the emotion which the mention of Marie's betrothal had caused in Herr Edgar, and she could find no satisfactory solution of the riddle. Then she tried to imagine what the inmates of the house would He spoke in a peculiarly confidential tone, have to say about the occurrence, but she sucwithout looking at Louise, fixing his eyes now | ceeded no better in this, and sleep at last hapupon the rocks and now upon the easel. At pily delivered her from all thoughts and speculast, turning to her, he inquired what part of lations. Germany she lived in.

When she awoke it was still bright daylight, and to her great delight she saw before her the painting on an easel. She had her father and Herr Edgar called, and calmly stated to them that she could, of course, have had not the most remote suspicion of any relations existing between Herr Edgar and Marie von Korneck. And now she heard for the first time that the cavalry captain had only assumed the part of Marie's betrothed for that special occasion, so that she might become more intimately acquainted with him. She concealed her face with a pocket-handkerchief, and the painter said, "This is one of her wild pranks, but she is too free. No girl ought to do such a thing as that, and, least of all, a girl who is bound by a promise to another."

Louise was sufficiently composed and collected to defend Marie, and she could not help

"Take it," cried she; "I can not hold it making mention of her grandmother's standing any longer.

He hurriedly took the picture from her hand, and, having placed it safely on one of the posts of the bridge that projected out of the water, seized Louise and bore her, rather than led her, to the shore.

remark, that Marie was specially fitted for being an actress.

The painter looked earnestly at Louise, and begged that he might be permitted to relate how he had become acquainted with Marie, and what was the nature of their connection.

Her father placed his hand on her brow, and

"Have you received any hurt?" inquired Louise, drawing a long breath, sat upright. he. "None of any account, only I can not step requested the painter to defer it until the next on my left foot."

The boy was soon on hand, and, hastening to the inn, brought back with him the father of Louise, who was borne to the inn in a sedan chair, Edgar following with the painting in his hand.

CHAPTER XIII.

LOVE WITH RUFFLES.

LOUISA's misfortune produced an excitement throughout the house. They were very glad that there was a physician among themselves, and the young man who had been hitherto so silent and reserved, even overlooked by the rest, now became a centre of interest. He found, on examination of the foot, that the ankle was severely sprained.

Caspar, the factotum, had remedies at hand for all such accidents, and came with a pot of liniment, which he extolled as having been highly useful for cases of that kind during his service in the papal army. He was not a little elated when the physician made a provisional application of the salve.

After her foot had been swathed, Louise

day. Louise did not venture to oppose, and the painter withdrew, leaving Louise and her father alone. She asked him then whether it was really the fact that the captain had only pretended to be engaged when at their country house. Herr Merz had to confirm his statement.

Evening came on, Louise grew feverish, and the physician gave her a composing draught. No sound was heard about the house, and Caspar even stopped the fountain, that its constant plashing might not be heard.

The next morning Louise awoke greatly refreshed. Herr Edgar sent to ask whether he might see her, and was answered in the affirmative. In presence of Louise and her father he related as follows:

"Yesterday evening, Herr Merz, you stated to me how lively an interest you had taken in all the affairs of our father-land; and I can but agree with you, that the way in which the whole of the present generation of young men is made to serve in the army has something barbarous in it. Most certainly this waste of strength and wealth is in complete contradiction with the humane character of our age; but probably you have been less called upon to observe how

many finely tricked out and seemingly excellent | I had derived sincere satisfaction from Marie's persons, but with no real, sound basis of char- always fresh and genial spirits, but to win her, to acter or preparation for life, are the result of call her my own, had never come into my thought. this state of things. I know it to be a fact. II openly confess that I have a strong dread of am the son of a soldier, and was early left fa- poverty; I have experienced it in its most bittherless. I wore a uniform from my seventh ter forms. I often said to myself in my quiet, year. My mother was poor, and she was thoughtful hours, 'You must never establish a obliged to earn her living. For fourteen years household on any uncertain prospects.' I rejectshe was housekeeper in the country, not very ed every appeal of my own nature, and was now far from where you lived. I caused her great thirty years old, and more and more resolved to grief, because, instead of becoming an officer, renounce domestic happiness, if I could not have I was so apparently ungrateful as to leave the something certain to rely upon. Perhaps this military life and follow my inclination for art. may be considered timidity-cowardice-PhilYou can imagine the distress of my good mo- istinism." ther; and in her complainings that I should become a vagabond it sounded very strangely to hear her often regretting that I should never wear, as my father did, a decoration on my breast. You see that it is not out of vanity, but from compliance with this strange wish of my mother, that I wear a badge. But, pardon me, I am digressing. I have endured many kinds of want, but it is a happy circumstance that we are so constituted that we forget the pain and suffering of the past. It seems to me now as if some one else, and not I myself, had undergone this experience. It is now four years since a great piece of good fortune happened to me. A German merchant, who had acquired a large property in Scotland, and built a handsome villa near Bieberich, wished to adorn his large drawing-room with pictures of Scotch scenery. He had seen a landscape of mine for sale at a picture-dealer's, and I received from him, unexpectedly, the commission to ornament the drawing-room. Money was furnished me to travel the whole summer in Scotland. I came back and began to work with lively pleasure. An older sister of the rich merchant's wife, a very noble and highly cultivated lady, took me under her special protection, and I can say that, next to my mother, no other human being has been so much to me as Frau Agatha. What could have been more favorable? I had kind, appreciative, and helpful friends. I was enabled to induce my mother to give up her situation, and to live with a sister married to a forester at N; and, besides, I had large wall spaces and the best light for my pictures.

"There was within me a perpetual rejoicing. At midsummer a friend of my patroness came to live at Bieberich, and with her Marie von Korneck. They frequently visited the house where I was; the old lady had no taste for paintings, and was proud and honest enough not to pretend to have any. Marie, on the other hand, took a great interest in my work.

"Once I was sitting at twilight in the garden, dreaming of the future, and looking out into the wide-spreading beautiful landscape, when I heard my patroness say to her sister, as they were strolling together in the walks, 'Yes, if I wanted a wife for Edgar, Marie von Korneck would be the one.' It thrilled me.

Herr Merz shook his head in denial, and Edgar went on: "I often used these and stronger expressions in my self-reproaches, but my renunciation of domestic joys and of love was based upon the well-matured consideration that I was outside of the ordinary arrangements of social and civil life, outside of those employments based merely upon getting a support-I had followed my inclination in the choice of a calling, and was resolved to repress in its behalf every inclination for domestic establishment. I said to myself that I ought to make the sacrifice, and I saw very many of my fellow-artists come to naught, because they were not able to follow out the tendencies of their genius, being obliged to produce good salable works in order to support wife and child. I had a friend who introduced into every picture two girls, one a blonde and the other a brunette, whether they fitted in or not; one was painted in a velvet dress, and the other usually in silk-the pictures sell for a good price, but they are travesty of true art. And so I was determined to maintain myself free in my art as far as possible, having only myself and my mother to provide for. I did not consider myself justified in drawing a family into such an uncertain struggle.

"All at once it seemed different, and something within me said that I ought not to make this renunciation. I ridiculed my fear of poverty, calling it poltroonery, representing to myself that one ought to win for himself a position in life, and to be successful in a variety of relations. I became more and more intimate with Marie, and her cheerful, gladsome temperament infused into me fresh inspiration. The fear would often insinuate itself that it was too great a risk to undertake to support another, without having any certain dependence of my own; but whenever I saw Marie and heard her voice, all these reflections vanished. We were both the children of soldiers, we had both experienced the bitterness of that sham external well-being of which I have before spoken. I could consider myself fortunate in comparison with Marie, for she must be dependent on a life of service, subject her youthful inclinations to the humors of a not low-minded, but particular and fussy old lady, and I could not but admire that elasticity of temperament which enabled her to preserve the genial freedom of her na

ture.

But with all this-I will not make myself out better than I am-I did not have the courage to confess my love, and used often to say to myself that, if Frau Agatha had not dropped the words I had heard, I should never have specially thought of Marie as one whom I desired for a wife.

"Then autumn came, and there was an indefinite and not plainly outspoken relation between Marie and myself.

only a few minutes more, for we must disembark at Walluf.'

"It is kind in you to come,' said Marie. There was something so touching in her tone that all my prudent reflections vanished, and every drop of blood in me was stirred. 'Marie,' said I to her, only a few moments remain, now hear what I have to say. I have no right to bind your fate for life to mine, and so I am resolved that I will not be an obstacle in the "The time for setting out upon their journey way of your happiness, if such a path should came, and I accompanied Frau Agatha to Bie-open. Give me three years-that is to say, I berich in order to bid good-by to our friends. leave you free if I do not write to you for three Their trunks were packed; Marie looked ex-years. I will strive to earn a competency for cited; we stood at a window and looked out our support, and if I do not succeed you are over the river. I said: 'It is a good thing for free. I beseech you not to engage your life you to travel, grievous as it may be to me.' indissolubly to me. Will you promise me that?' She looked fixedly at me, but made no reply. She assented. It was plain to me that I involuntarily revealed the conflicting emotions within, and I only said: 'Give me your hand and let me say farewell here; I should rather not do it at the steamboat landing; and let me say that we should be rejoiced and consider it as a possession for life that we have met each other, and can preserve indelible pictures of memory in our souls. If on either of us good fortune smiles, we know that the other will afar off be refreshed by it. I have long thought about giving you some external token of remembrance, but I can not determine upon any, and it is better so. You have only the recollection of a meeting in the journey of life, and I wish you from my heart a prosperous journey.'

"I have nothing more to tell. I forgot to say that we had confessed our love. "The bell rang for landing, and, in presence of my patroness and the old lady, we kissed each other for the first time."

Again Edgar paused. He did not venture to look at Louise, but cast his eyes down to the floor, although he would have liked to know how Louise now regarded him. At last he continued:

"I was in a strange mood, full of conflicting feelings; sometimes I considered myself as betrothed, sometimes as perfectly free. Nothing has been settled, there is nothing binding. My work in the house of my patron was finished. I had earned enough to make my mother indeEdgar stopped. After rather a long pause pendent for many years, and now I went out he went on:

"Pardon me for detailing all this so minutely; I do not know how I came to do it; I will hereafter be more concise.

"The boat is in sight!' was suddenly called out. Trunks and boxes were carried to the landing. My patroness went with them to the boat, intending to accompany them a part of the way on the river; I bade them farewell at the house, and Marie and I said nothing more. I saw tears in her eyes, and through my own tears I saw that she trembled.

"The trunks were taken away, and all was desolate. I went through the rooms, which seemed to have been pillaged, and, suppressing my suffering, said to myself that it was well that it was over, that I had no right to bind another's lot to my own.

fresh and free into the world. I was in Italy,
and, strange to say, at the same time Marie was,
but I did not know it until after she had re-
turned to Germany. I came hither. I painted
the picture like the one you have seen.
I re-
ceived in Paris the highest mark of distinction
-I may be allowed to say that the external
badge was prized by me only on my mother's
account, and, in fact, her letter, in answer to
mine informing her of the bestowal of the badge
of the Legion of Honor, was a very happy one.
I have a good reputation, and commissions for
several years in advance. Now could I offer to
Marie a competent support. I wrote to her. I
have again journeyed hither in order to exe-
cute a commission for a picture like the other,
but smaller; I am expecting news of Marie;
perhaps she may come herself."

Edgar paused, and then said, in conclusion: "You know now what is and what has been."

The three sat speechless for a while, and then

"Then I saw on Marie's sewing-table a pair of lace ruffles that had been forgotten. I can not say how it happened; I took up the ruffles, hastened down the steps, and succeeded in reaching the landing just as the boat was shov-Louise said: ing off. I tried to hand the ruffles to Marie; but the captain, thinking that I wanted to go in the boat, grasped my hand, drew me on board, and we were off.

"The old lady looked at me in surprise, but Frau Agatha extended to me her hand, and I saw that Marie trembled. We sailed on in silence for a while, and then I said: 'We have

"I thank you, Herr Edgar."

Edgar rose and left the room. Herr Merz remained with his daughter; but soon after he went to Edgar, and he had nothing else to say to him except to ask, "Will you smoke a cigar with me?"

They sat and smoked in silence, until Herr Merz again went to Louise's room.

Louise trembled, and all the by-standers looked at each other in wonderment, and then cast down their eyes to the ground. The invalid, who seemed to be recovering, had ex-bore Louise in the sedan chair back to the pressed the thought of all the rest. house. They came across her father, deeply engaged in reading his paper, and he exclaimed:

The invitation was gladly accepted. The betrothal was celebrated in the house of the ex-representative, under the sympathizing eyes of his wife and the hearty words of the old gentleman himself.

say that she wishes you would do it at our the sharper and more inclement. The luggage house." was taken out, the train rolled on; Herr Merz wanted to look after his own effects, but the station-master tried to dissuade him from doing so on account of the bleak wind, and the servant said that he would see to every thing. Herr Merz persisted in looking after it himself, saying that there was one box which must be handled with special care.

Louise wore the betrothal ring, and the first thing she did with the hand on which it was was to write a letter to Edgar's mother. Then she took his arm, and they strolled through the village back to the inn.

Louise's betrothal put the whole company into a fresh excitement, and the melancholy invalid was the first to present his congratulations.

His mental oppression seemed to be disappearing gradually in the society of cheerful people.

"You have not been playing a practical joke like that of your daughter's friend, Fräulein Von Korneck, who took with her in the cars a dog bundled up like a baby?"

'No, nothing of that sort. It is a picture painted by my son-in-law. Come and see me, and I will show it to you."

"What does it represent? Mount Rosa, or the Righi, or the Jungfrau ?"

"Neither of them. A cliff on the Lake of the Four Cantons, which is known to no one else but ourselves; it used to be called 'the Rock of the Legion of Honor,' and now it is

Then came the children with flowers, the painters' wives, the men-all were in jubilant spirits. Caspar dragged a small cannon up the mount-called The Rock of Love.'” ain overlooking the Rock of the Legion of Honor; he directed the hostess to tell them not to be frightened, if they should hear firing; and now crack went the cannon from the rocks, and the echo came from over the lake and the distant mountains.

Louise and her betrothed went into the garden;, they recalled all the time since their first meeting until the present moment. In the evening, when the moon shone brightly, they took a boat and rowed far out on the lake; there they jodeled into the soft air of night, and moved the hearts of all who heard the joyous notes. How happy must they be out

No one was on the platform; and when the whistle sounded the coachman came out from the carriage, holding on his cockade hat with both hands, and still chewing the last mouthful he had taken.

The train rolled into the station, the superintendent betook himself to the first-class car, opened it, bade Herr Merz a hearty welcome, and congratulated him on his re-election. He quickly added, however: "Excuse me for not having yet congratulated you on the marriage of Fraulein Louise. Allow me to ask whether she will come back here with her husband?" "Certainly she will! By spring. They are now in Paris."

Herr Merz felt chilled, and drew his cloak close around him as he stood at the station. The beginning of the northern winter seemed to him, who had come from the south, so much VOL. XLII.-No. 247.-5

THE STATUE.

IN Athens, when all learning centred there,
Men reared a column of surpassing height
In honor of Minerva, wise and fair,

And on the top that dwindled to the sight
A statue of the goddess was to stand,
That wisdom might obtain in all the land.
And he who, with the beauty in his heart
Seeking in faultless work immortal youth,

Would mould this statue with the finest art,
Should gain the prize. Two sculptors sought the fame;
Making the wintry marble glow with truth,
The prize they craved was an enduring name.

Alcamenes soon carved his little best;

But Phidias, beneath a dazzling thought
That like a bright sun in a cloudless west

Lit up his wide, great soul, with pure love wrought
A statue, and its face of changeless stone
With calm, far-sighted wisdom towered and shone.
Then to be judged the labors were unveiled;

But at the marble thought, that by degrees
Of hardship Phidias cut, the people railed.
"The lines are coarse; the form too large," said

these;

"And he who sends this rough result of haste Sends scorn, and offers insult to our taste."

Aicamenes' praised work was lifted high

Upon the capital where it might stand;
But there it seemed too small, and 'gainst the sky
Had no proportion from the uplooking land;
So it was lowered and quickly put aside,
And the scorned thought was mounted to be tried.
Surprise swept o'er the faces of the crowd,

And changed them as a sudden breeze may change
A field of fickle grass, and long and loud
Their mingled shouts to see a sight so strange.
The statue stood completed in its place,
Each coarse line melted to a line of grace.
So bold, great actions that are seen too near
Look rash and foolish to unthinking eyes;
They need the past for distance to appear

In their true grandeur. Let us yet be wise,
And not too soon our neighbor's deed malign,
For what seems coarse is often good and fine.