and against these rose the far-off hills, and the large black masses of the town, in which now all noise, all light, all revelry, were fast sinking into that still, still gloom and quiet, which proclaims the interval of repose. The shades of night hung upon every object, and the breezes that came from the shores of the ocean, swept chillingly round the steep, and to a fanciful ear might have appeared to wail and lament for the approaching work of desolation. At length, when O'Halloran and his weeping family were seated on a projection of the eminence, they ventured to look down on the houses beneath them: one by one the tapers had been extinguished, and the tones of the lute, and the wild and joyous carrol, were hushed. All lay in one dark and heavy mass of obscurity, and the sleep of the grave seemed to rest on the inhabitants. O'Halloran cast his eye around, and beheld the fatal guest whom he had harboured, standing on the very summit of the mountain: his cap had fallen off, and his cloak and loose hair streamed wildly on the breeze; his hands were stretched forth, and his eyes, beaming with more than mortal brilliancy, were fixed on the planets which were silently rolling in the canopy above. Again O'Halloran bent his glances upon the town, and far and wide as he could see, water was welling and welling as though the springs of the earth had broken loose. Suddenly the stillness was dissolved; the bands of sleep burst asunder; the bells rung violently, and lights were seen flashing to and fro, in house and castle, and from room to room. Dreadful was the scene that now presented itself to the senses of the appalled family on the hill: the houses were sinking rapidly, and the water was level with the windows on the second stories: the upper casements were dashed open, and knight and lady and bondsman issued forth on the tops of the houses, and tossed their arms in harrowing despair, as they beheld retreat cut off on every side. Lower and still lower sunk the dwellings, till the waters were even as high as the very roofs, and then hundreds flung themselves into the stream, and, struggling with their fate, vainly endeavoured to make towards the land. In one place a father, encircled by his children, was buffeting the tide, and in another a husband sustaining his wife, tried to save her from the danger that surrounded them. But that was indeed vain! The power that invoked their destruction, defeated their exertions; and every soft, sweet tie of kindred was swept into one inevitable ruin. Groan and cry and lamentation, intermingled with strange and fearful oaths, arose from the town; O'Halloran's brain felt as if spinning round; he shut his eyes, and pressed his hands tightly on his ears, to close out that sight of woe,-that shriek of bewildering despair: it sounded again on the breezes of night, and then all sunk into stillness, broken only at intervals by a faint splash in the water, as a hand or arm rose to the surface, and waving for a moment sunk heavily in the stream. After the lapse of a short time, O'Halloran and his wife and mother again ventured to gaze upon the scene! All-all was gone! and where a town had reflected the beams of the last setting sun, a dark, deep lake was now stretching its sullen waters! Long silvery streaks of light in the horizon betokened the dawning of morning; and as the thick clouds of night rapidly rolled into the west, the distant bills were illumined by the first early rays of the day. O'Halloran looked round for the stranger whose terrible endowments had called down the ruin; but he was gone, and the breeze only waved the tall reeds where he had stood. A pious ejaculation broke from the lips of O'Halloran, and he prayed with a deep and ardent and burning intensity for the souls of the deceased. When he had concluded, he rose from his knees, and taking the hands of his companions, turned his steps far from that scene of destruction which, to this day, is known by the name of LOUGHMORN. E. S. C. From the German of Musaus. Ar the distance of three miles from | himself muscular and stout, he acknow Blackpool in Swabia, there was situated a strong freebooter's hold: it was occupied by a valiant knight, named Siegfried. He was the flower of the freebooting errantry, the scourge of the confederate towns, and the terror of all merchants and carriers, who ventured along the high roads, without purchasing his passport. The moment his vizor was down, his cuirass fixed, his sword girt about his loins, and his golden spurs tinkled at his heels, his heart was steeled to rapine and bloodshed. In conformity with the prejudices of the age, he accounted pillage and plunder among the distinguished privileges of the noblesse: so he fell, from time to time, without mercy, upon the defenceless traders and country people; and being ledged no law but the right of the stronger. At the alarm," Siegfried is abroad! Siegfried is at hand!" all Swabia was seized with consternation; the peasants flocked into the fortified towns, and the watchmen upon the towers blew their horns aloud, to give warning of the danger. But at home, when he had doffed his armour, this dread freebooter became gentle as a lamb, hospitable as an Arab, the kindest of masters, and the fondest of husbands. His wife was a soft, ami ble lady, a perfect pattern of virtue and good conduct. She loved her husband with the most inviolable attachment, and superintended her household with unremitting diligence. When Siegfried sallied forth in quest of adventures, it only distributed among them the remnants of her table on set days, but also made them considerable presents of money. Once, when Siegfried had sallied forth with his troop, to waylay the merchants coming from Augspurg fair, he tarried abroad beyond the time he had fixed for his return. His affectionate lady, alarmed at the unprecedented delay, apprehended nothing less than that he bad been slain in the rencounter, or at least had fallen into the enemy's hand. Hope and fear wrestled in her bosom for several days. She would often call out to the dwarf that kept watch upon the battlements: "Look out, Hansel, towards the wood, and see what makes such a rustling among the trees. -Hark! I hear a trampling of horses in the valley!-What raises yonder cloud of dust-Dost thou espy thy master hastening home?" Hansel mournfully was not her custom to sit at the lattice, looking out for admirers, but she set her hand to the wheel, and drew out the flax to a thread so fine, that Arachne herself, the Lydian spinstress, need not have been ashamed to own it. She had brought her husband two daughters, whom she assiduously instructed in the lessons of piety and virtue. In her monastic retirement nothing disturbed her peace of mind, except the unjust means by which her husband acquired his wealth. In her heart she abhorred this privilege of robbery, and she received no satisfaction from his presents of costly stuffs, interwoven with gold and silver. "Of what use is all this to me, bedewed as it is with the tears of the wronged?" would she say to herself, as she threw it into her coffer, where it was suffered to lie without further notice. She found some relief to these melancholy reflections in administering consolation to the captives, who had fall-replied, "There is nothing stirring in en into Siegfried's clutches: and numbers from time to time were released in consequence of her mediation; and she never failed to furnish them privately with a small sum to bear their expenses home. At the foot of the eminence on which the castle was seated, a plentiful spring arose within a kind of natural grotto, and immediately concealed itself among the tangled thickets. The fountainhead, according to tradition, was inhabited by a nymph of the family of the Naiads, though, instead of that sort of Grecian appellation, she passed here under the name of the Nicksy. If report spoke true, she had sometimes been seen, on the eve of important occurrences, in the castle. Whenever, during her husband's absence, the noble lady wanted to breathe the fresh air beyond the gloomy walls of the mansion, or stole out to exercise her charity in secret, it was her custom to repair to this fountain. This spot was her favourite retreat. At the grotto she appointed to meet the poor, whom the porter had refused admittance; and here she not the wood-I hear no trampling of horses in the valley-I see no clouds of dust rising-there is no nodding of plumes afar off." She repeated these inquiries incessantly, till the evening star began to twinkle, and the full moon peeped over the eastern hills. Being no longer able to endure her apartment, she threw her cloak over her shoulders, and stole out at the private door towards the grove of beeches, that she might pursue her melancholy ideas without interruption, beside her favourite fountain. Her eye was dissolved in tears, and her moans harmonized with the melting murmurs of the rivulet, as it lost itself among the thick grass. As she approached the grotto, it seemed as if an airy phantom hovered just within the entrance; but she was too deeply absorbed in sorrow to pay much attention to the vision; and a transitory idea, that it was some illusion of the moon-light, passed half unperceived across her imagination. But on a nearer approach a figure in white was distinctly seen to move, and to beckon her into the grove. An involuntary horror fell upon the mournful lady, but | daughter was to become an infant or she did not fly back; she only stopped short to take a more distinct view. The report concerning the inhabitant of the spring, that circulated in the neighbourhood, had not failed to reach her ears, and she now recognized the phantom in white for the nymph of the fountain. She concluded that the apparition denoted some important family event: and her husband being uppermost in her thoughts, she instantly began to tear her raven locks, and set up a loud lamentation, "Alas, unhappy day! Ah, Siegfried, Siegfried, thou art no more!— Woe is me, thou art cold and stiff !— Thou hast made me a widow, and thy poor children are become orphans!" While she lamented in this manner, wringing her hands and beating her bosom, a gentle voice was heard to proceed from the grotto: "Be not afflicted Matilda; I do not come to announce bad tidings: approach without fear; I am only a friend that wishes to converse with you." The appearance and address of the Naiad were so little alarming, that the noble lady did not hesitate to comply with the invitation. As she stepped into the grotto, the inhabitant took her kindly by the hand, kissed her forehead, seated herself close beside her, and spake: Welcome to my habitation, beloved mortal, whose heart is pure as the water of my fountain: therefore the invisible powers are all propitious to thee. As for me, the only favour I can confer upon thee is to disclose the fortunes of thy life. Thy husband is safe: ere the morning cock crows thou shalt fold him in thy arms. Do not be apprehensive of mourning for thy husband, the spring of thy life shall be dried up before his. But thou must first bear a daughter in an eventful hour. The balance of her fate is equally poised between happiness and misery. The stars are not unpropitious, but an unfriendly gleam threatens to rob her of a mother's fostering care." The tender-hearted Matilda was greatly affected, when she heard that her phan. She was unable to suppress her maternal tears. The Naiad, deeply touched by her sorrow, endeavoured to compose her mind: "Be not afflicted beyond measure; when thou art no longer able to tend thy infant, I will myself discharge a mother's office, on condition, however, that I am chosen for one of her god-mothers, that I may have some interest in the babe. Be careful at the same time that the child, provided thou wilt entrust her to me, bring me back safe the baptismal gift which I shall leave with her." This was no offer to be rejected: to ratify the treaty, the Naiad took a smooth pebble out of the rivulet, and gave it to Matilda; charging her, at the proper season, to send one of her damsels to throw it into the fountain-head, when she would consider it as a summons to attend the cere mony. The matron promised that her injunction should be punctually observed, laid all these things up in her heart, and returned to the castle. Her Naiad patroness stepped into the water, and vanished. Not long afterwards the dwarf blew a merry blast with his horn from the watchtower; and Siegfried, with his horsemen and a rich booty, entered the court-yard. Before a year had expired, the virtuous lady communicated to her lord a discovery, which raised in his mind the pleasing expectation of the arrival of an heir male. It cost Matilda much reflection, before she could contrive how to manage about the Nymph of the Fountain, for many reasons restrained her from communicating the adventure at the grove to her husband. About the same time it happened that Siegfried received a message of mortal defiance from a knight whom he had offended at a feast. He lost no time in equipping himself and his squires, and when, according to his custom, he came to bid his wife farewell, just before he mounted, she eagerly inquired into the nature of his design; and when, instead of satisfying her, he affectionately reproved her for her unusual and illtimed curiosity, she covered her face and wept bitterly. Her tears melted the knight's generous heart; nevertheless he tore himself away, and, without shewing any signs of sympathy, rode briskly to the place of rendezvous, where, after a severe conflict, he dismounted his adversary, and returned in triumph. 66 : His faithful spouse received him with open arms and by endearing conversation, and all the artillery of female address, strove to extort a communication of his late adventure. But he constantly barricaded every avenue to his heart by the bolt of insensibility, and all her artifices were unavailing. Finding that she still persisted in her purpose, he endeavoured to abash her by raillery Good grandmother Eve, thy daughters have not degenerated prying curiosity has continued to be the portion of woman to the present day; not one but would have longed for the forbidden fruit." "I beg your pardon, my dear husband," replied the artful dame; "you are too partial to the ladies; there is not a man existing who has not received his lawful portion of mother Eve's inheritance; the whole difference consists in this, the loving wife neither has, nor is permitted to have a secret from her husband. Could I find it in my heart to conceal any thing from you, I would risque a great wager that you would never be at rest till you had drawn the secret from me." "And I assure you, upon my honour," replied he, "that your secret would never give me a moment's uneasiness-nay, you may make the trial, I give you my full consent." This was just the point to which Matilda desired to bring her husband: "Well then." said she, "you know, my dear, that my time is fast approaching. You shall allow me to choose one of the godmothers. I design this office for a dear friend, whom I have locked up in my heart, but with whom you are altogether unacquainted. I only desire that you will never press me to tell who she is, whence she comes, nor where she lives. If you promise this, and keep steady to the obligation, I will consent to lose the wager, and willingly own that the firmness of imperial man has a right to triumph over the frailty of our sex." Siegfried, without scruple, engaged his honour to forbear all enquiry; and Matilda secretly rejoiced at the success of her stratagem. In a few weeks she presented her husband with a daughter. The father would much rather have taken a boy into his arms; he nevertheless rode about in high spirits to invite his friends and neighbours to the christening. They all appeared on the appointed day; and when the lady heard the rolling of carriages, the neighing of horses, and the hum of a large company, she called to her one of her trusty maids, and charged her, "Take this pebble; go and throw it behind you, without saying a word, into the fountain in the grotto be careful to do exactly as I have directed you." The maid punc tually obeyed the injunction; and be fore she returned, an unknown lady stepped into the apartment where the company was assembled, and made her obeisance very gracefully to the knights and dames. When the child was brought out, and the priest had gone up to the font, the highest place fell to the stranger, every one respectfully making way for her. Her beauty, and the gracefulness of her demeanour attracted every eye; and above all the splendour of her dress, which consisted of a flowing gown of azure blue silk, with cuffs turned up with white satin; she was moreover, as heavily laden with pearl and jewels as my Lady of Loretto on he feast-day. feast-day. A brilliant sapphire fixe her transparent veil, which flowed in easy folds from the crown of the head over her shoulders, down to her heels and the tip of the veil was dripping wet as if it had been drawn through water. The unknown lady, by her unex pected appearance, had so disarrange the groupe, that they forgot to ask fo instructions about the child's name |