I know not how it is, but almost every one has a desire, from his early youth to see some objects in preference to others, without being able to assign any reason why; and of all rivers, the Danube had long been that which I desired the most to look upon. Perhaps it was the name that impressed me, for there is certainly something sonorous in it. Or it may be that, when a child, I used to stop in the evening, and listen to a blind woman who sang,

Alone on the banks of the dark rolling Danube.' Her voice was sweet, and there is something imposing in the image, dark rolling Danube.' The day I came in sight of

VOL. I.

it, however, it was not applicable; the sun was bright, the water flowed pure and rapid, and the gay fields of Hungary waved yellow in the summer's breeze. I was disappointed. It was not in accordance with the ideas I had formed of it. I would rather have seen a flood of dark waters flowing through gloomy forests; and I felt somewhat mortified that I should so long have cherished a false image. I shut my eyes, and thought of the Danube; and it rolled before me dark and mighty. I opened them, and beheld it as it is. I had breakfasted at Seid, about twelve miles distant; and I now lay down under a walnut

18

tree, at some distance from the river, and drew my cloak somewhat tightly about me.

When evening approached, I made for a small eminence close at hand, to see if I could discover in which direction lay the nearest village. I perceived a church tower, at about an hour's walk down the river. It is all one,' said I to myself, where I rest to-night-I can change my direction in the morning;' and I had just turned my back upon the cataract, when I perceived a young girl coming towards me, along the path I had struck into, carrying in her arms one of the prettiest little dogs I had ever seen. Whether it was that the dog was alarmed at the approach of a stranger, or that its mistress was for the moment more occupied with that event than by the care of her favorite, I cannot pretend to determine; but, when within a few paces of me, the dog leaped from her arms, and fell into the river. The damsel screamed, and ran to the edge, but the bank was too high for her to reach the water. I immediately determined to save the dog at all hazards. It may be that I was less incited to the action by the danger of the dog than by the grief of its mistress; and when I call to remembrance her look of affection and agony, I know not which of the two I would prefer, to have it recorded as my motive, in my little catalogue of good actions. The dog was carried out from the bank a little way, and was rapidly descending the stream. At a little distance lower down, and only a few yards from the bank, were some rocks, and not more than two or three feet of water betwixt them and the shore. I instantly broke off a branch of a tree, and in a moment gained the rocks. I lay down upon my face and extended the branch, in hopes that the little animal would lay hold of it. A moment later, and he was lost; but my efforts

were crowned with success: he seemed to exhaust his little remaining strength in fixing his teeth in it, I drew him to me, and instantly gained the shore.

From the moment that the maiden saw me interest myself in her favor, she had remained silent and motionless, the image of fear and anxiety : but when I presented her favorite to her, joy and gratitude glistened in her eyes; she clasped it to her bosom, dripping as it was, kissed it over and over again, held out her hand to me, smiled, caressed her dog again, and again gave me her hand, as if to say she could not thank me sufficiently in words. I told her I was well repaid by having saved her favorite; and I was sure that, if he could speak, he would thank me for having restored him to so kind a mistress. She told me she lived with her mother, in a cottage about an hour's walk up the river; and that having wet myself in her service, if I would walk along with her, her mother would be glad to receive me as a stranger, and still more as the preserver of their favorite. It was not an offer to refuse: she gave me the little dog to carry, and we walked on together. She told me that she had been to see her sister, who was married, and who resided in the village whose tower I had seen; that she had taken the dog with her as a companion, and thinking it might be tired, had carried it all the way from the village. Innocent, tender-hearted creature! What are ye, ye refinements of civilization, in comparison with the confiding innocence and simplicity of the Hungarian girl, who extends her hand to the stranger who has saved her dog, and invites him to her maternal roof, to refreshment and repose! She said the dog had belonged to her brother Theodore, but that when he went to the wars he had made her a present of it, to keep for his sake, and that she and her mother loved it much, both because Theodore loved it, and because it had loved Theodore.

As we walked for a few moments in silence, I had leisure to contemplate the form which enshrined so pure a soul. She was above the middle height, slender, but possessed that beautiul roundness of form, which is so captivating in woman; her eyes were blue and mild, but expressive; her mouth was not perhaps quite so small and symmetrical as a limner would die of envy to paint, but two rows of pearly teeth were seen betwixt two parted lips of roses. She held a bonnet in her hand, and abundance of beautiful tresses, gently agitated by the air, showed a forehead of purity, and shaded a neck no less white:

her age might be eighteen, but whatever it was, she seemed yet to preserve the recent impress of the hand of divinity. I asked her if she was not afraid to walk so far alone. "No," said she, "all the country people know me." "And love you too," I added. "Atleast," said she, "no one would harm me." Harm thee! I could have pressed her to my heart, and sworn to protect her for ever, and I would have kept my word. I asked her if she had never been tempted to follow the example of her sister. "No," said she, "my mother is old and infirm, I shall never leave her." "Heaven will bless thy resolution," said I. But I could not help thinking, as I beheld her charms, and reflected upon her goodness, that destiny could hardly be just if it should refuse to reward her filial piety by the holy joys of wedded love. "We live yonder," said she, as we came in sight of a beautiful little cottage with an orchard sloping down to the river. * I was received as strangers were received of old, before the inhabitants of cities had carried their corruptions into the lands of simplicity and

*

*

hospitality. Never shall I forget our evening meal. We talked of the danger of their favorite; "Take care of him, Constance," said the kind old woman, " it is all we have of Theodore:" as she named her son, a tear trickled down her cheek; Constance kissed it off, but her own trickled in its place. I talked to them of distant climes and foreign manners. They had heard of England, but had never before seen one of its natives; they said that henceforth they would love it next to Hungary. They keep early hours in Hungary. After supper I strolled into the orchard with Constance, and we silently gazed upon the river. She gave me some ripe pears: "These will perhaps refresh you to-morrow," said she. "Ah, Constance," I replied, "they may be sweet to-day, but to-morrow they will be bitter." The bell tolled from the neighbouring village where I was to sleep, and I knew it was time to part. I trembled every inch of me: "Absurd," said I to myself, "I have known her but three hours;" true, but I could live with her for ever. We returned to the cottage. The custom of the country permitted me to embrace at parting - and never did I press the cheek of youth and beauty with so large an alloy of pain.

(To be continued.)

THE SPECTRE OF THE BROKEN.

Germany stands pre-eminent for the number of its superstitions, but in no part does it abound so much as among the Harz mountains, from whence most of the legends of the wild and wonderful are derived. Some of these terrific stories, however, may be traced to very pleasing and curious sources; but none more so than to that part of the Harz mountains, called the Broken, in the neighbourhood of Hanover; so long celebrated for reflecting to the eye of a spectatora colossal figure, called

The Spectre of the Broken. As most of our readers are familiar with tales founded on this phenomenon, the following explanation of it may be amusing, the particulars were published at Gottingen, in 1798, and appeared in Gmelin's Journal of Nature.

The first time I was deceived by the atmospheric phenomenon, I had clambered up to the summit of the Broken, very early in the morning, in order to wait for the beautiful view of the sun rising in the east. The heavens were already streaked with red; the sun was just appearing above the horizon in full majesty, and the most perfect serenity prevailed, when the other Harz mountains in the south-west, towards the Worm mountains, lying under the Broken, began to be covered by thick clouds. Ascending at that moment the granite rocks, called Tuelfelskanzel, there appeared before me, though at a great distance, the gigantic figure of a man, as if standing on a large pedestal But scarcely had I discovered it, when it began to disappear; the clouds sunk down speedily and expanded, and I saw the phenomenon no more. The second time, however, I saw the spectre more distinctly, a little below the summit of the Broken, and near the Heinrichshöhe, as 1 was looking at the sun rising about four o'clock in the morning. The weather was rather tempestuous; the sky towards the level country was pretty clear, but the Harz mountains had attracted several thick clouds, which had been hovering around them, and which, beginning to settle on the Broken, confined the prospect. In these clouds, soon after the rising of the sun, I saw my own shadow, of a monstrous size, move itself for a couple of seconds exactly as I moved; but I was soon involved in clouds, and the phenomenon disappeared.

It is impossible to see this phenomenon, except when the sun is at

such an altitude as to throw his rays upon the body in a horizontal dicection; for, if he is higher, the shadow is thrown rather under the body than before it. In the month of September, 1798, as I was making a tour through the Harz, I found an excellent explanation of the phenomenon as seen by M. Haue, on the 23rd of May, 1797, in his diary of an excursion to the Broken mountain, I shall therefore take the liberty of transcribing it.

"After having been here for the thirtieth time," says M. Haue, "and besides other objects of my attention, having procured information respecting the above-mentioned atmosphere being quite serene towards the east, his rays could pass without any obstruction over the Heinrichshöhe. In the south-west, however, towads Achtermannshöhe, a brisk west wind carried before it thin transparent vapours, which were not yet condensed into thick heavy clouds. About a quarter past four I went towards the inn, and looked round to see whether the atmosphere would permit me to have a free prospect to the south-west, when I observed, at a very great distance, towards the Achtermannshöhe, a human figure of a monstrous size. A violent gust of wind having almost carried away my hat, I clapped my hand to it by moving my arm toward my head, and the colossal figure did the same. The pleasure which I felt on this discovery can hardly be described; for I had already walked many a weary step in the hopes of seeing this shadowy image, without being able to gratify my curiosity. I immediately made another movement by bending my body, and the colossal figure before me repeated it. I was desirous of doing the same thing once more; but my colossus had vanished. I remained in the same position, waiting to see whether it would return, and in a few minutes it made its appearance on the Ach

termannshöhe. I paid my respects to it a second time, and it did the same to me. I then called the land

lord of the Broken; and, having both of us taken the same position which I had taken alone, we looked towards the Achtermannshöhe, but saw nothing. We had not, however, stood long, when two colossal figures were formed over the eminence, which repeated our compliments by bending their bodies as we did; after which they vanished. We retained our position; kept our eyes fixed on the same spot; and in a little time the two figures again stood before us. Every movement that we made by bending our bodies these figures imitated; but with this difference, that the phenomenon was sometimes weak and faint, sometimes strong and well defined. Having thus had a sufficient opportunity of examining the Spectre of the Broken, I am enabled to give the following explanation of the curious phenomenon, which has so long been the wonder of travellers: When the rising sun, and according to analogy, the case will be the same at the setting sun, throws his rays over the Broken upon the body of a man standing opposite to fine light clouds floating around hovering past him, he need only fix his eyes stedfastly upon them, and, in all probability, he will see the singular spectacle of his own shadow extending to the length of five or six hundred feet, at the distance of about two miles before him. This is one of the most agreeable phenomena I ever had an opportunity of remarking on the great observatory of Germany."

Extractor.

LARRY MOORE.

AN IRISH SKETCH. BY MRS. S. C. HALL.

or

"Think of to-morrow!"-that is what no Irish peasant ever did yet, with a view of providing for it: at least no one I have had an opportunity of being acquainted with.

He will think of any thing-of every thing but that. There is Lar ry Moore, for example; who that has ever visited my own pastoral village of Bannow, v. is is unacquainted with Larry, the Bannow boatmanthe invaluable Larry-who, tipsy or sober, asleep or awake, rows his boat with undeviating power and precision? - He, alas! is a strong proof of the truth of my observation. Look at him on a fine sunny day in June. The cliffs that skirt the shore where his boat is moored are crowned with wild furze; while, here and there, a tuft of white or yellow broom sprouting a little above the bluish green of its prickly neighbour, waves its blossoms, and flings its fragrance to the passing breeze. Down to the very edge of the rippling waves is almost one unbroken bed of purple thyme, glowing and beautiful; - and there Larry's goat, with her two sportive kids-sły, cunning rogues!-find rich pasture -now nibbling the broom blossoms, now sporting amid the furze, and making the scenery re-echo with their musical bleating. The little island opposite, Larry considers his own particular property; not that a single sod of its bright greenery belongs to him-but, to use his own words, "sure its all as one my own-don't I see it-don't I walk upon it-and the very water that it's set in is my own; for sorra' a one can put foot on it widout me and the coble, that have been hand and glove as good as forty years." But look, I pray you, upon Larry: -there he lies, stretched in the sunlight, at full length, on the firm sand, like a man-porpoise-sometimes on his back-then slowly turning on his side-but his most usual attitude is a sort of reclining position against that flat grey stonejust at high water mark: he selects it as his constant resting-place, because (again to use his own words)