THE SUNKEN CITY. Hark! the faint bells of the sunken city Wild and wondrous, of the olden time. Temples, towers, and domes of many stories And the mariner who had seen them glisten, So the bells of memory's wonder-city Peal for me their old, melodious chime; So my heart pours forth a changeful ditty, Sad and pleasant, from the bygone time. Domes and towers and castles, fancy builded, And then I hear music sweet upknelling From full many a well-known phantom band, And, through tears, can see my natural dwelling Far off in the spirits' luminous land! - Translation of JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN. THE BIRD AND THE SHIP. "The rivers rush into the sea, By castle and town they go; The winds behind them merrily Their noisy trumpets blow. "The clouds are passing far and high, "I greet thee, bonny boat! Whither or whence, With thy fluttering golden band?" "I greet thee, little bird! To the wide sea I haste from the narrow land. "Full and swollen is every sail; I have trusted all to the sounding gale, "And wilt thou, little bird, go with us? Thou may'st stand on the mainmast tall, For full to sinking is my house With merry companions all." "I need not and seek not company, "High over the sails, high over the mast, When thy merry companions are still, at last, "Who neither may rest, nor listen may, God bless them every one! I dart away in the bright blue day, And the golden fields of the sun." - Translation of HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. VOL. XVII.-14 ÜNCHAUSEN, HIERONYMUS KARL FRIED RICH, BARON VON, a German soldier; born in Bodenwerder, Hanover, May 11, 1720; died there, February 22, 1797. For many years he served as a cavalry officer in the Russian army, and passed the latter part of his life in his native town. He delighted in relating marvellous stories of his adventures in the campaign against the Turks in 173739, and this gained him the reputation of being one of the greatest liars that ever lived. These stories are said to have been first compiled by Rudolf Erich Raspe, a man of letters, born in Hanover in 1737, who was discharged from his offices of professor of archæology and curator of the museum in Cassel on the charge of stealing medals. He fled to England and engaged in literary pursuits in London, where he published these stories anonymously, under the title, Baron Münchausen's Narrative of His Marvellous Travels and Campaigns in Russia (1785). A second edition was printed in Oxford in 1786; a third, entitled Gulliver Revived, in 1796, and six editions in London, in 1802. The work was first published in Germany in 1787, under the supervision of the poet Burger, who was long thought to be the author. Many of the stories in the later editions are taken from Henry Bebel's Facetia (Strasburg, 1508), from Castiglione's Cortegiano, and Bildermann's Utopia, which are included in Lange's Delicia Academica (1765), and from Lucian's True History. The best English edition is by Teignmouth, illustrated by Gustave Doré, and with an edition by Théophile Gautier. The best German edition is entitled Des Freiherrn von Münch ausen wunderbare Reisen und Abenteuer, with an introduction by Adolf Ellissen (1849). A German version of the English edition was published as Münchausen's Lügenabenteuer (1846). Similar stories are called in Germany Münchausiaden. The work occasioned Adolf Schrödter's picture representing Münchausen relating his stories to eager listeners, and Karl Lebrecht Immermann's novel Münchausen (183839). SOME STRANGE ADVENTURES. I was not always successful. I had the misfortune to be overpowered by numbers, to be made prisoner of war; and, what is worse, but always usual among the Turks, to be sold for a slave (the Baron was afterward in great favor with the Grand Seignior, as will appear hereafter). In that state of humiliation my daily task was not very hard and laborious, but rather singular and irksome. It was to drive the Sultan's bees every morning to their pasture-grounds, to attend them all the day long, and again at night to drive them back to their hives. One evening I missed a bee, and soon observed that two bears had fallen upon her to tear her to pieces for the honey she carried. I had nothing like an offensive weapon in my hands but the silver hatchet, which is the badge of the Sultan's gardeners and farmers. I threw it at the robbers, with an intention to frighten them away, and set the poor bee at liberty; but, by an unlucky turn of my arm, it flew upward, and continued rising till it reached the moon. How should I recover it? how fetch it down again? I recollected that Turkey beans grew very quickly, and ran up to an astonishing height. I planted one immediately; it grew, and actually fastened itself to one of the moon's horns. I had no more to do now but to climb up by it into the moon, where I safely arrived, and had a troublesome piece of business before I could find my silver hatchet in a place where everything has the brightness of silver at last, however, I found it in a heap of chaff and chopped straw. I was now for returning; but, alas! the heat of the sun had dried up my bean; it was totally useless for my descent: so I fell to work, and twisted me a rope of that chopped straw, as long and as well as I could make it. This I fastened to one of the moon's horns and slid down to the end of it. Here I held myself fast with the left hand, and with the hatchet in my right, I cut the long, now useless, end of the upper part, which, when tied to the lower end, brought me a good deal lower: this repeated splicing and tying of the rope did not improve its quality, or bring me down to the Sultan's farm. I was four or five miles from the earth at least when it broke; I fell to the ground with such amazing violence, that I found myself stunned, and in a hole nine fathoms deep at least, made by the weight of my body falling from so great a height: I recovered but knew not how to get out again; however, I dug slopes or steps with my finger-nails (the Baron's nails were then of forty years' growth), and easily accomplished it. Peace was soon after concluded with the Turks, and, gaining my liberty, I left St. Petersburg, at the time of that singular revolution, when the Emperor in his cradle, his mother, the Duke of Brunswick, her father, Field · Marshal Munich, and many others were sent to Siberia. The winter was then so uncommonly severe all over Europe that ever since the sun seems to be frost-bitten. At my return to this place I felt on the road greater inconveniences than those I had experienced on my setting out. I traveled post, and, finding myself in a narrow lane, bid the postilion give a signal with his horn, that the other travellers might not meet us in the narrow passage. He blew with all his might; but his endeavors were in vain; he could not make the horn sound, which was unaccountable, and rather unfortunate, for soon after we found ourselves in the presence of another coach coming the other way; there was no proceeding; however, I got out of my carriage, and being pretty strong, placed it, wheels and all, upon my head: I then |