To the close he tarried thus, Till Vobiscum Dominus; To the crowd inclines the priest, And the crowd have signed—and ceased! Now back in its appointed place, His footsteps but delay To range each symbol sign of grace- So, conscience calm, he lightly goes; He gained the forge-the smiths surveyed, "How fares it, friends?— have ye obeyed," On, with this answer, onward home, Afar, the Count beheld him come He scarce could trust his eyes. "Whence com'st thou?" "From the furnace." "So! Not elsewhere? troth, thy steps are slow; Thou hast loitered long!" "Yet only till I might the trust consigned fulfill. "My noble lord, 'tis true, to-day, I'd chanced, on quitting thee, To ask my duties, on the way, Of her who guideth me. She bade me (and how sweet and dear It was!) the holy mass to hear; Rosaries four I told, delaying, Grace for thee and thine heart praying." All stunned, Count Savern heard the speech A wondering man was he; "And when thou didst the furnace reach, What answer gave they thee?" "An answer hard the sense to win, "Thou must, be sure, his path have cross'd? "In wood nor field where I have been, No single trace of him was seen." All deathlike stood the Count: "Thy might, Then meekly, humbled from his pride, She naught mote understand "This child- no angel is more pure Long may thy grace for him endure; Our strength how weak, our sense how dim GOD AND HIS HOSTS ARE OVER HIM!" THE SHARING OF THE EARTH. BY SCHILLER. (Bulwer's Translation.) "TAKE the world," cried the God from his heaven To men, "I proclaim you its heirs; To divide it amongst you 'tis given, You have only to settle the shares." Each takes for himself as it pleases, Old and young have alike their desire; The Harvest the Husbandman seizes, Through the wood and the chase sweeps the Squire. The Merchant his warehouse is locking, Cries the Monarch, the thoroughfares blocking, Not an inch but its owners there are. "Woe is me, is there nothing remaining, "In the land of the dreams if abiding," Quoth the God, "canst thou murmur at ME? Where wert thou, when the Earth was dividing?" "I WAS," said the Poet, BY THEE! 66 "Mine eye by thy glory was captured, Mine ear by thy music of bliss; Pardon him whom thy world so enraptured As to lose him his portion in this!" "Alas!" said the God, "Earth is given! ADVENTURE WITH A PANTHER. BY CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN. [CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN, the first American professional man of letters, the first novelist to use real American scenes and life for material, and the first American writer to enter the field of mysticism and mental disorder, - -a pioneer whose ideas were far in advance of his work, was born 1771 in Philadelphia; a consumptive boy, fairly educated, but not strong enough to go through college, trained for the law, but in 1796 removing to New York to take up the then profitless life of letters. Here after some magazine work he wrote “Wieland” (1798), "Ormond" (1799), “Arthur Mervyn " (1799-1800), "Jane Talbot," "Edgar Huntly," and "Clara Howard" (1801). He founded a short-lived literary magazine in New York, and one in Philadelphia, whither he returned in 1801, and the semi-annual American Register (1806), suspended by his death in 1810. He wrote also political pamphlets, memoirs, translations, etc.] THE next day was stormy and wet. This did not deter me from visiting the mountain. Slippery paths and muddy torrents were no obstacles to the purposes which I had adopted. I wrapped myself, and a bag of provisions, in a cloak of painted canvas, and speeded to the dwelling of Clithero. I passed through the cave and reached the bridge which my own ingenuity had formed. At that moment, torrents of rain poured from above, and stronger blasts thundered amid these desolate recesses and profound chasms. Instead of lamenting the prevalence of this tempest, I now began to regard it with pleasure. It conferred new forms of sublimity and grandeur on this scene. As I crept with hands and feet along my imperfect bridge, a sudden gust had nearly whirled me into the frightful abyss below. To preserve myself, I was obliged to loose my hold of my burden, and it fell into the gulf. This incident disconcerted and distressed me. As soon as I had effected my dangerous passage, I screened myself behind a cliff and gave myself up to reflection. ... The purpose of this arduous journey was defeated by the loss of the provisions I had brought. . . This deficiency, however, was easily supplied. I had only to return home and supply myself anew. No time was to be lost in doing this; but I was willing to remain under this shelter till the fury of the tempest had subsided. Besides, I was not certain that Clithero had again retreated hither. . . . While occupied with these reflections, my eyes were fixed. upon the opposite steeps. The tops of the trees, waving to and fro in the wildest confusion, and their trunks, occasionally bending to the blast, which in these lofty regions blew with a violence unknown in the tracts below, exhibited an awful spectacle. At length my attention was attracted by the trunk which lay across the gulf, and which I had converted into a bridge. I perceived that it had already swerved from its original position, that every blast broke or loosened some of the fibers by which its roots were connected with the opposite bank, and that if the storm did not speedily abate, there was imminent danger of its being torn from the rock and precipitated into the chasm. Thus my retreat would be cut off, and the evils from which I was endeavoring to rescue another would be experienced by myself. I did not just then reflect that Clithero had found access to this hill by other means, and that the avenue by which he came would be equally commodious to me. I believed my destiny to hang upon the expedition with which I should recross this gulf. The moments that were spent in these deliberations were critical, and I shuddered to observe that the trunk was held in its place by one or two fibers which were already stretched almost to breaking. To pass along the trunk, rendered slippery by the wet and unsteadfast by the wind, was imminently dangerous. To maintain my hold in passing, in defiance of the whirlwind, required the most vigorous exertions. For this end it was necessary to discommode myself of my cloak, and of the volume which I carried in the pocket of my cloak. I believed there was no reason to dread their being destroyed or purloined, if left for a few hours or a day in this recess. Just as I had disposed of these incumbrances, and had risen from my seat, my attention was again called to the opposite steep by the most unwelcome object that at this time could possibly occur. Something was perceived moving among the bushes and rocks, which for a time I hoped was no more than a raccoon or opossum, but which presently appeared to be a panther. His gray coat, extended claws, fiery eyes, and a cry which he at that moment uttered, and which, by its resemblance to the human voice, is peculiarly terrific, denoted him to be the most ferocious and untamable of that detested race. The industry of our hunters has nearly banished animals of prey from these precincts. The fastnesses of Norwalk, however, could not but afford a refuge to some of them. Of late I had met them so rarely that my fears were seldom alive, and I trod without caution the ruggedest and most solitary haunts. Still, however, I had seldom been unfurnished in my rambles with the means of defense. My temper never delighted in carnage and blood. I found no pleasure in plunging into bogs, wading through rivulets, and penetrating thickets, for the sake of dispatching woodcocks and squirrels. To watch their gambols and flittings, and invite them to my hand, was my darling amusement when loitering among the woods and rocks. It was much otherwise, however, with regard to rattlesnakes and panthers. These I thought it no breach of duty to exterminate wherever they could be found. These pernicious and sanguinary spoilers were equally the enemies of man and of the harmless race that sported in the trees, and many of their skins are still preserved by me as trophies of my juvenile prowess. As hunting was never my trade or my sport, I never loaded myself with fowling-piece or rifle. Assiduous exercise had made me master of a weapon of much easier carriage, and, within a moderate distance, more destructive and unerring. This was the tomahawk. With this I have often severed an |