with caps of rich Valenciennes lace, welcome the stranger with bowls of sumptuous cream, and display an honest pride in exhibiting the beautiful kine in their clean farm stalls presenting in appearance, manner, and conversation, no bad idea of a prose Belgium picture of pastoral life. A week is quite enough, however, to see all that can be seen in this sandgirt sea-town and its neighbourhood; and this period having elapsed, ennui was already taking possession of us, as, one dusky night, having extended our walk in a direction unknown, we were not displeased at the excitement of having lost our way upon the wild down above alluded to, and the darkness of nightfall having been increased by a sea-fog which completely smothered the lights along the ramparts, and even of the lighthouse itself that never-failing guide to the town from either direction, land or sea---stumbling over the sandy mounds, and now plunging through a patch of marsh land, a ruddy glare presently met our eyes, and advancing toward it, we found it proceed from a hut, like a capsized boat, in which some men were drinking round a wood fire. On our appearance one of them addressed us in Flemish, a tongue of which we were innocent, and which has always appeared to us like bad German spoken by a party whose mouth was full of porridge. Then another who possessed French, rose and addressed us, and finding our object, volunteered to guide us to a road which, as it happened, was not more than a hundred yards distant.

"Such fogs," said he, "are frequent on the coast at this season, and you are not the first who have lost their way on this down. The west wind always brings them, and afterwards heavy rain. We will have a pouring day to-morrow, or I'm mistaken."

In a little, reaching the road, we thanked him, with a couple of cigars for his trouble, and setting out again by ourselves through the fog, soon arrived at the Rue St. Joseph, where we lodged.

Next morning I found my friend's prediction had turned out true; never was there a more resolutely wet day. The rain, which poured incessantly from the dense gray cloudy sky, increased occasionally to a deluge; and as the wind from the sea forced it in heavy

drifts along the deserted streets (the canal fronting our window being the only object which seemed to take to it with an indifferent relish), it was clear that, for that day at least, we were destined to remain in-doors, hopelessly imprisoned by the weather.

After despatching some correspondence, we began to look about the chamber for books to while the hours till dinner-time, and presently found in a bracket a volume of Thiers' "Consulate," Rousseau's "Social Contrat," and an old Road Guide through Germany-all which, being either familiar or obsolete, promised but weary entertainment. After a brief examination we threw them aside, and proceeded to investigate an old press, which occupied a deep nook in a dark offset of the room. Being in search of literary works, the few broken cups which embellished the lower shelves were little calculated to afford the instruction or amusement we desiderated; and feeling as lonely amid the watery elements which surrounded us as the Rabbi who was locked up in the Pharos of Alexandria to translate the Scriptures, we were again, in the despair of ennui, about to recur to the works above-mentioned, when, the press-door remaining open, we dimly perceived an upper shelf which had not been investigated. Having therefore lit a bougie, and

ascended ourselves" on a chair, we brought the light to bear on the dark upper cavity. Here the dust lay inch thick, and we were about descending, when a mouldy roll of paper, protruding from the furthest corner, met our gaze. To seize it and shake the dust from its leaves was the work of a moment; the next, we discerned that it was a roll of manuscript in the French language, written in a cramp but distinct hand, and which, from its stained condition, with its yellow pages and faded ink, had undoubtedly been transcribed many years before. Forthwith, moving the sofa to the window, and lighting a cigar, we began clearly to decipher the document, which ran as follows:

In October, 1718, I accompanied the expedition of the King of Sweden against Frederickshall, in Norway. The winter had set in with unusual severity, and the prospect of taking so strong a place at such a season was looked on as little less than madness by

almost all except his Majesty himself, who entertained the fullest confidence of reducing the town in a few weeks, and making himself master of the kingdom of which it was the key in six months at furthest.

The town, which is a small placelooking like a cluster of molehills in the lonely valley where it stands--and strongly fortified, is situated some mile or so up the river Tisendel, which flows into a deep reach which serrates the shore of the Baltic. From the day of our arrival, on which they were commenced, the siege-works were pushed forward with great energy, despite the immense difficulties presented by the frozen soil; but the King said he would teach his soldiers how to conquer winter itself; and truly, if all were gifted with the iron frame which the hero possessed, the rigours of the season would have mattered little; for he seemed as indifferent to cold as to fear, worked frequently in the trenches with the men, and while even the hardiest of them coveted a few hours of shelter and sleep in tent or by camp fire, invariably stretched himself, when wearied, at night, on the hard ground under the icy sky, wrapped only in his cloak. But was not his entire career an attempt to conquer nature and circumstance, and to contend, but too frequently, with the impossible?

The engineering department of the army of course occupied the point from which the works were carried on, while the lines extended on either side over an area of nearly five miles, the right and left wing occupying the villages of Bahus and Anslo, which stand on the river on either side of Frederickshall.

From October to the first week in December, the army, working in relays, were engaged day and night in throwing up the siege-works, which by that time were advanced within 800 yards of the enemy's bastions. As the winter deepened the cold rapidly intensified; every day from sixteen to twenty men perished from its effects, dropping dead at their posts; and the obstructions offered by the ground, which was frozen hard as iron, the scarcity of provisions, and other difficulties, would have paralyzed the energies of any other army than that fortified by the example of the King. Daily many were struck down from

the Norwegians' fire. The Swedes, however, who, seasoned to the practice of war, held their enemies in contempt, feared nothing but the horrors of the climate of a sky which seemed filled with the presence of a universal death, approaching nearer and nearer. The Prince of Hesse, who was making the campaign with his Majesty, had his camp, which was well provisioned, at Bahus, about three miles from the trenches; but the King was seldom of his company, passing his entire time with the men engaged in the works, and in surveying the surrounding country.

On the 11th of December, about half-past eight, I was making my way toward my tent, through the trenches, when a sentinel stationed at one of the angles, as I was about to cross an open space exposed to the fire, motioned me not to advance. In an instant I had retreated into the shelter of the parallel, which was very high at that place, and the next a discharge of grape came tearing and whizzing past. The trench and parallel at this point was very high, and the darkness completeso dark that the nearest object was invisible. I was just about to hurry across to the next line, when I heard two men, whose figures I could not see, and whose voices I did not recognise, conversing in a low tone together."

"He ought to be near hand by this time," said the first; "he left Bahus half an hour since on horseback."

"What say you," inquired the other--" are our friends yonder to be relied on ?"

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This affair is one of general interest," returned the first; "this wild expedition is regarded in the same light in Stockholm as in Copenhagen or Christiana. How bitter cold the night is! Providence should have made man a hibernating animal in this climate."

At this moment, anxious to reach my tent, I thought nothing of those fragmentary remarks of my invisible comrades, but recollected them afterwards from the event which presently occurred.

I had proceeded some fifty yards on my way up the trench, and had reached an angle where another communication with the outwork diverged, when I saw a tall figure

hastily approaching, which I quickly recognised as that of the King. He stopped an instant and recognised me, and as I uncovered, said-"Come with me, Abedhyl; I am going to inspect the advanced lines, which are proceeding more slowly than I expected; I want to give you some instructions on our return.'

I followed his Majesty, who meanwhile remained silent, till we came up to the advanced parapet, beneath which Siquier and Megret, masters of the engineer corps, were conversing. When the King went up to them, I heard him address Megret in a tone of dissatisfaction and anger, reproaching him for the slow progress of the trenches.

"Sire," said Megret, "you forget it is December in Norway; the earth is iron; we are not-I wish heartily we were besieging a town in Pomerania and in summer."

"Put a hundred men additional on this parallel to-night," said the King; "there is no time to be lost." He paused a moment, and then said"Tell me, Megret, how soon do you calculate this place will fall?"

"In eight days, your Majesty, I promise you we shall be inside the bastions yonder."

“We shall see,” returned the King, and proceeded with the two officers to inspect the works at a little distance off, where he remained some time giving directions.

It was then about nine o'clock, and although the Norwegian night was bright overhead with stars, so deep was the gloom which pervaded the deep trenches in which we stood, that it was impossible to recognise any one except by their voices. There had been a lull in the cannonade from the town, whose intermitting flame occasionally shed a red glare over the summit of the trenches, and complete darkness prevailed.

I was walking to and fro at the place where his Majesty had ordered me to await him, trying to keep myself warm under the dark sky, whose benumbing cold weighed like lead on every nerve and fibre, when once, as I turned, I thought I saw two figures stealthily approaching in the deep shadow of a converging parapet, but took no heed of them, believing them to be soldiers descending to their labour below. Presently

I dimly recognised the King striding hastily away from Siquier and Megret, who followed him at a distance; and as a sudden discharge thundered from the enemy's batteries, saw him, illuminated in its red light, advancing to the most advanced outwork fronting the town, mount the slope, and rest on the parapet, looking toward Frederickshall. The scene is still present to my imagination as it then was to my eyes-the little town huddled under the dark hills in the wild valley; the red gusts of flame from its line of batteries throwing long glares momentarily across the gloomy intervening ground; the distant roar of the guns; the rattle of the shot against the earthworks, and their hurtling hiss through the air ;and the figure of the King, leaning on his elbow on the parapet, dimly defined, as he gazed underneath where the men were working by starlight. The cannonade from Frederickshall was then so briskly maintained that the roar hardly ceased for a minute. I was still watching his Majesty's figure, expecting him to descend every instant, when I was surprised by the sharp report, as of a musket close by, which rung almost simultaneously with a shower of shot from the enemy which came rattling overhead; and thought I saw a figure like a shadow flit from the place where I fancied I heard the report of the small-arm along the trench and suddenly disappear. The next moment I saw the King rise, look round, his frame agitated by a quick, convulsive movement-then fall, and Siquier and Megret hurrying toward him, followed by Swerin, who carried a lantern ;— I then ran forward.

As Siquier raised the King, he heaved a deep sigh, and we saw he was dead. Blood streamed from his right temple and covered his face, and in his right hand he clutched his sword, with the air of one suddenly attacked. When lifted into the trench below we examined the wound in the temple, where the fractured bone presented an aperture some two inches wide, while that made by the ball, which had passed through the head and escaped at the back, was of much smaller size. Never shall I forget the last look I obtained of the hero whose fame had filled the world-the iron frame rigid in death; the blood

flowing from the great high forehead, fringed with light brown hair sprinkled with gray; the calm, stern face, slightly bronzed by weather and the sun of Turkey; the last gesture, fixed by fate, fierce and implacable, with which he had suddenly confronted death. Siquier examined the two fractures caused by the ball. "Yes," said he, "a grape-shot from the enemy's batteries.". At this Megret smiled curiously, as he held the lantern and surveyed the wound. "If so," said he, "the wound at the back, where the ball escaped, should be larger than where it entered in front." Siquier appeared much horrified at an event so unforeseen and terrible; but Megret, who was noted in the army for his coolness and sardonic humour, folding his arms and

smiling grimly, exclaimed-" Well, gentlemen, the siege is raised, the farce is ended, and we may now go home to supper!"

It was necessary to disguise the King's death from the army until the Prince of Hesse was acquainted with the circumstance; so, Siquier, taking off his wig, placed it on the head of his Majesty, who being then wrapped in a cloak, was carried through the men, working forward, under the name of an officer. Intelligence was immediately conveyed to the Prince of Hesse, who was then at supper; and it was rumoured that as the news passed round the company in a whisper, it affected them rather as an expected than a sudden and unforeseen calamity-for the King always exposed himself recklessly to fire.

MR. PILMER was less fidgetty than any man or woman in the kingdom; he never hurried himself or his friends upon any occasion, in the least degree, for which reason he was frequently late for coaches, trains, and steamboats; nevertheless, Lizette and he contrived to arrive at Yaxley in time for the starting of the "Swift Hawk," with actually a minute to spare, on the morning appointed for their journey to London; and our young friend found herself, for the first time since she was a very little child indeed, travelling in a public conveyance. She did not dislike the movement of the vehicle; it was pleasant to gallop by all the strange places passed on the way; and she did not mind the jolting, nor the occasional leaning to one side of the heavily-laden vehicle, which stopped ever and anon to pick up a passenger or a band-box in waiting for it on some lonely country road. She wondered at all the strange faces she saw-wondered at their different expressions- -some sad, some merry, some stamped with a look of grave, hard thought, but all lighted up by the living soul within. It almost seemed to her that these strange people had only now started into existence for her peculiar benefit. She could scarcely comprehend that each

new person had a home and friends and interests of his own, and that all had lived in the world long before that bright June day which first revealed them to her eyes. Everyone appeared busy, bustling, careful of self. Mr. Pilmer, however, was an exception; he took things easily, snoring away on the opposite seat; so she had plenty of time to make observations, no one being inside the coach but herself and her companion. Very little conversation had been exchanged between her and Mr. Pilmer since his coming to the Rest. She had not dared to talk to him on terms of equality-she had scarcely summoned courage to ask about his daughter Bessie-no longer "Bessie" to her she feared, but Miss Pilmer, cold and stately and forgetful of the past. Oh, how dreadful to have to meet either her or her mother! These thoughts occasionally floated through her mind, as, with head turned towards the open coach window, she watched passengers getting up and down, playing out the day's drama, and ostlers bringing out horses when the coach stopped at wayside inns, to exchange the tired, gaunt animals, that were exhausted and panting after bearing the weighty coach-load, mile after mile, at a quick pace, for others