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"He wants me to be bond for him for three hundred pounds. He has a capital chance of making a good sum of money, he says, but it is necessary to get a party to be security for that amount. He has a large family, you know, and is à very deserving character."

"Have nothing to do with it," said Dakins. "The amount is certainly large." "Have nothing to do with it," said Dakins. "There is a risk to be sure," observed Abraham. "He may be very honest, but the thing may not turn out so well as he expects, and then what is to become of you!"

"That's very true, replied Abraham.

"I beseech you to take my advice this time. You refused to act promptly and decisively in two instances before, and I believe you now regret it."

"Well," said Abraham rising from his seat, "I will try to take your advice this time. I will, upon my


Six months after, Bobsly was unable to fulfil his part of the contract, and his creditor seized everything that Abraham possessed, and cast him into prison. He was visited there by Dakins a fev: days afterwards.

incarcerated within these gloomy walls. What, now.
my good friend, what now will people say?"
"What indeed," stammered out Abraham.

"Ah! Falter, Falter," said Dakins, "you have ruined yourself at last. Had you taken my advice you would not have been here. Had you not paid too much deference to the world's good opinion, you would never have forfeited it. The gentleman who married your cousin has taken a ho use in the country, and is now enjoying his wife's fortune. Tyler, who took Pubbs's shop is rapidly savi ug money, and you are here

A short time after the interview referred to above, Abraham Falter was restored once more to society, but he never rose again. He was engaged as an assistant to Tyler the man who took Pubbs's shop. He was a martyr to the world's opinion, and the following interrogatory. WHAT WILL PEOPLE SAY?


LOUIS XVI. had read much history, and especially the History of England. Like all unhappy people he sought in the misfortunes of others of dethroned princes-analogies to his own misfortune. The portrait of Charles I. by Vandyck, was unceasingly before his eyes in his cabinet at the Tuileries; his history often open upon his table. He had been struck by these two circumstances: that James II. had lost his crown through having quitted his kingdom, and that Charles I. had been beheaded through making war against his Parliament and his People. These reflections had inspired France, or of throwing himself on the protection of his him with an instinctive repugnance to the idea of leaving army. It was, therefore, inevitable that his freedom of mind should be completely overpowered by the immiand day besieged the Tuileries, should have entered the nence of present perils, and that the terror which night Abraham bade his friend good morning, and departed. very soul of the King and Queen. The atrocious meThree days had been allowed him by Bobsly for consider-themselves at the windows, the outrages of the journaces which assailed them the moment they showed ation. At the end of that period, the latter again nalists, the vociferations of the Jacobins, the disturbwaited upon Abraham, who, however, summoned up ances and assassinations which occurred daily in the courage to inform him, that he could not accommodate him. He regretted it, he said, exceedingly, but the risk capital and provinces, the violent opposition to their dewas too great to enable him to comply with his wishes. parture for Saint Cloud, and last of all, the remembrance of the poniards which had pierced the very bed Bobsly used every entreaty, referred to the integrity of the Queen on the 5th and 6th of October, made their of his character, their long and uninterrupted friend-whole life one continued pang. Flight was at length ship, and concluded by saying,—

determined upon; it had frequently been discussed be"Well, my dear Falter, I am sure, if you persist in fore the time when the King decided upon it. Mirabeau refusing me this favour, I was never more mistaken in himself, bought over by the Court, had proposed it in my life. I have always thought you, and so has every-the mysterious interviews he had had with the Queen. body, the kindest hearted fellow in existence. But now, The King thus, at length, was about to suspend by a what am I to think-what will everybody think? What fragile thread, his throne, his liberty, his life, and the will people say ?" lives, yet a thousand times dearer to him, of his wife, his children, and his sister. His agonies were long and terrible; they were of eight months duration; his only confidants, the Queen, Madame Elizabeth, several faithful servitors within the palace, and the Marquis de Bouillé without. The Marquis de Bouillé, cousin of M. De la Fayette, was of a character the most opposed to the Hero of Paris. He was a grave and determined warrior, attached to the monarchy by principle, attached to the King by a religious devotion. He had under his command the troops of Lorraine, Alsace, Franche-Comté, and Champagne.

It was all in vain, Poor Abraham Falter could not resist these all-potent words. He was undone. He agreed to become Bobsly's security.

The time of action being now arrived, the Count de Fersen, a young Swede, attached to the Queen with a chivalrous devotion, and who had hastened from Stockholm at the first signal given him by her-became the



Translated for "Howitt's Journal,”


(Continued from p. 101.)

principal and almost sole agent in the hazardous enterprise. He undertook to provide the carriage which should await the Royal Family at Bondy. The fact of his being a foreigner gave a covering to all his plans, which were arranged with a happiness equal to his devotion. The old Gardes du Corps, M.M. de Valory, de Moustier, and de Maldan, were taken into his confidence, and prepared for the part which the King assigned them they were to disguise themselves as domestics and mount the carriage.

The rendezvous of the royal family was on the Quai des Theatins, where two hackney coaches awaited them. The Queen's women and the Marquis de Tourzel had preceded them. In the trouble and confusion of so hazardous and complicated an enterprise, the Queen and her guide mistook their way. Perceiving thair error, they were seized with anxiety, and precipitately retraced their steps. The King and his son, obliged to reach the same spot by out of the way streets and another bridge, were half an hour in arriving. The Queen, long occupied with the idea of this flight, This was an age to the wife and sister. At length they had already in March desired one of her women to have arrived. and threw themselves into the first coach; conveyed to Bruxelles a complete wardrobe for Madame Count Fersen mounted the box, seized the reins, and royale, and the Dauphin; in the same manner she had himself drove the royal family to Bondy, the first postsent her dressing-case to her sister the Arch-Duchess station between Paris and Chalons. They there found, Christina, Governor of the Netherlands; her diamonds through the Count Fersen's care, the Berline constructed and her jewels had been entrusted to her hair-dresser for the King, and another carriage awaiting them. The Leonard. The slight signs of a meditated flight had not carriages rolled along the road to Châlons; relays of completely escaped the vigilance of a treacherous female horses were provided at all the posting stations. The attendant. This woman had noticed whisperings and number of horses, the splendour and remarkable form gestures, portfolios open on the table, jewels wanting in of the Berline, the number of travellers, the Gardestheir cases; she had reported these symptoms to M. du-corps, whose liveries accorded ill with their noble de Gouvion, Aide-de-camp to La Fayette, with whom physiognomy and military bearing, the Bourbon face of she had intimate connexions. M. de Gouvion reported Louis XVI, ̊ seated in a corner of the carriage, and them to the Mayor of Paris and his General. But these which strangely contrasted with the character of the reports had been so often renewed, and on all sides, valet which he had assumed, were circumstances of a had so often been denied by fact, that people had ended nature to awaken suspicion on the road. But the passby attaching little importance to them. Nevertheless, port from the Minister of Foreign Affairs, replied to all on this day, the announcements of this woman caused this. It was in these terms," In the King's name, the measures taken for nocturnal surveillance to be rewe grant this pass-port to Madame, the Baroness de doubled in the castle. Thus, one sees, what with sullen Korf, returning to Frankfort with her two children, a agitation in the public mind, and the severity of the maid, a valet-de-chambre, and three domestics;" and King's imprisonment, how difficult the escape of so lower down, "Minister of Foreign Affairs, Montmorin." many persons at one time must have been. Yet, whe- This foreign name, the title of a German Baroness, the ther through the connivance of some of the National proverbial opulence of the Frankfort bankers, all had Guards, whether through the well-concerted measures been well concerted by Count de Fersen, as a cloak for of the Count de Fersen, or whether Providence was will-whatever was suspicious or unusual in the royal ing to grant a last ray of hope and preservation to those so soon to be overwhelmed by such misfortune, all the prudence of their jailers was deceived, and the Revolution for a moment let its prey escape.

The King and Queen admitted as usual at their hour of retiring to rest, those persons who were in the habit of, at that hour, paying their court to them. They did not dismiss their attendants earlier than usual. But as soon as they were left alone they re-dressed themselves. They put on their travelling costume, very simple, and suited to the character which each fugitive was to assume. They joined Madame Elizabeth and the children in the Queen's chamber, and passing by a secret corridor to the apartment of the Duke de Villequier, they They were filled with security and confidence. The issued forth from the Palace in separate groups and at happy success of their escape from Paris, the punctudifferent intervals of time, so as not to attract the at-ality so far of the relays, the solitude of the roads, the tention of the sentinels. Favoured by the bustle of foot-inattention of the towns and villages through which passengers and carriages, which, at this hour, after the they passed, so many dangers already behind them, Royal audience, were accustomed to issue from the cas- safety so near, every turning of the wheels bringing tle, and which doubtless Count de Fersen had taken care them nearer M. de Bouilié, and the faithful troops to increase this evening, they succeeded in reaching the posted by him to receive them, the very beauty of the Carrousel without being recognised. The Queen gave season and the day, so sweet to eyes, which, for two her arm to one of the Garde-du-Corps, and led the long years had only rested upon the seditious crowds Dauphin by the hand. In crossing le Carrousel she met of the Tuileries, or the forest of bayonets of an armed La Fayette, followed by one or two of his officers, who people beneath their windows, all consoled their hearts, were entering the Tuileries to see that the precautionary and made them believe that Providence had at length measures called forth by the revelations made during declared in their favour. the day, were already taken. She shuddered in recognising the man who, in her eyes represented insurrection and captivity, but in escaping his observation, she believed she had escaped that of the nation, and smiling, made a remark upon this deceived jailer, who, on the morrow, would be unable to render up his captives to the people. The King wished to follow last with the Dauphin. Count de Fersen, disguised as a coachman, walked at a little distance before them, acting as guide.


In effect, nothing did excite public attention, or stop their course, until they reached Montmirail, a little town between Meaux and Chalons. There some repairs which had to be done to the Berline, suspended the King's departure for an hour. This delay, during which their flight might be discovered at the Tuileries, and couriers despatched after them, filled the fugitives with consternation. The carriage was, however, promptly repaired, and the travellers departed, without imagining that the loss of this hour would perhaps cost the liberty and life of four out of the five persons who composed the royal family.

They entered Châlons under these happy auspicesIt was the only large town they had to pass through.It was three o'clock in the afternoon. A few idlers grouped themselves round the carriages whilst they were changing horses. The King imprudently shewed himself at the window. He was recognised by the post-master. But the brave man, feeling that he had his sovereign's life in his hands, distracted the attention of the crowd, himself aided in putting in the horses,

and hastened the postilions' departure. The carriage rolled through the gates of Châlons. The King, the Queen and Madame Elizabeth exclaimed at once" we are saved!"

At Pont-sommerville the King expected to meet M. de Bouillé, M. de Choiseul, and M. Guoguelas, at the head of a detachment of Hussars. Besides which as soon as they descried the royal carriage, an Hussar was to have been despatched to announce the arrival of the travellers at the post-stations of Sainte Menehould, and Clermont. He had felt confident of finding there, his devoted and armed friends. He found no one. M. de Choiseul and M. de Guoguelas and the fifty Hussars had departed half an hour before. People seemed excited and murmured round the carriages, regarding the travellers with suspicion. Nevertheless no one opposed their departure, and at half-past sever they arrived at Sainte Menehould. It was still broad day light. Uneasy at having thus passed two stations without finding his promised escort, the King, by a natural movement looked through the window to search in the crowd for some sign of intelligence which should reveal the motive of its absence. This moment was his destruction. The son of the post-master, Drouet, recognised the King whom he had never before seen, from his resemblance to his head on the coin.

Nevertheless, as the horses were already put in, the postilions mounted, and the town, occupied by a detachment of Dragoons, this young man did not alone dare to attempt in that place, the arrest of the carriages. The commander of these Dragoons had equally recognised the royal carriages from the instructions he had received. He wished his troop to mount and follow the King; but the national guard of Sainte Menehould quickly informed by the sullen rumour of the resemblance borne by the travellers to the portraits of the royal family, surrounded the barracks, closed the doors of the stables, and opposed themselves to their depar


of the carriages, the corporation of Clermont, filled with vague suspicions by the prolonged stay of three troops commanded the Dragoons not to march. They obeyed, and Count Damas abandoned by his squadrons, found means to escape with one inferior officer and three Dragoons, and galloped toward Varennes at some distance from the King. Too feeble or too late a succour. The royal family shut up in the Berline and seeing no obstacle opposed to their journey, were ignorant of these sinister events. It was half-past eleven when the carriages reached the first houses of the little town of Varennes. All slept or appeared to sleep, all was deserted and silent. Varennes was not on the posting line between Châlons and Montmèdy, and thus the King would not find post-horses there. It had, however been arranged between him and M. de Bouillè, that M. de Choiseul's horses should be stationed in readiness at a certain place in Varennes to conduct the travellers to Dun and Stenay, where M. de Bouille awaited them.

We have already seen that M. de Choiseul and M. de Guoguelas who, with their fifty Hussars were to have awaited the King at Pont Sommerville and follow him, had neither awaited nor followed him. Instead of being at Varennes at the same time as the king, these officers had with their detachment taken a road which increased the distance between Pont Sommerville and Varennes by several leagues, but which avoided Sainte Menehould where the passing through of the Hussars the day previous, had created some excitement. Thus it happened that neither M. de Guoguelas nor M. de Choiseul the King's confidants and guides were at Varennes, when he arrived. They arrived an hour later. The carriages stopped at the entrance of Varennes.

The King, astonished at seeing neither M. de Choiseul M. de Guoguelas, the escort, nor the relay of horses, awaited with anxiety the sound of postilion's whips. The three gardes-du-corps descended and went from door to door enquiring where the horses might be. No one could tell them.

Meanwhile the son of the post-master saddled his The little town of Varennes is divided into two disbest horse, and set out at full speed towards Varennes, tinct quarters, the higher and the lower town; sepathere to anticipate the arrival of the travellers, an-rated by a river and a bridge; M. de Guoguelas had nounce his suspicions to the magistrates, and excite the placed the relay in the lower town, on the other side of patriots to arrest the monarch. Whilst the man galloped the bridge. This measure was in itself prudent, bealong the road to Varennes, the King, whose destiny cause in case of a tumult, the changing of the horses, and he carried with him, pursued his course without mis- the departure would be more easily effected, the bridge trust towards the same town. Drouet was sure to ar- once passed. But the King should have been apprized rive before the King as he pursued a nearer and more of this, and he was not. The King and Queen, greatly direct route, one only taken by horsemen and foot pas- agitated, alighted themselves and wandered through sengers. Drouet had thus hours before him, and des- the deserted streets, trying to discover the horses. They truction travels more rapidly than rescue. Yet, by a knocked at the doors of houses where they saw lights, strange entanglement of fate death also pursued him, they inquired; no one understood what they wanted.

A quarter-master of the dragoons shut up in the bar-At length they returned discouraged to the carriages racks of Sainte Menehould had alone found means to mount where the impatient postilions threatened to take out the his horse and escape the observation of the people. horses and abandon them. By entreaties, gold, and Informed by his commander of the precipitate depar-promises they persuaded these men to remount, and drive ture of Drouet, and suspecting his motive, he had hast- through the town. The carriages set out. The traened in pursuit of him on the road to Varennes, sure of vellers reassure themselves, they attribute this accident overtaking him and resolved to kill him. He followed to a misunderstanding, and imagine themselves in the within sight of him, but always at a distance so as not midst of the camp of M. de Bouille. The high town is to excite his suspicions, and thus insensibly approach passed without an obstacle. The houses repose in the him at a favourable moment and lonely part of the most deceitful calm. Only a few men are awake, and road. Drouet looking back several times to see whe- these men are concealed and silent. ther he were pursued, had perceived this horseman, and comprehended his stratagem; born in the country and knowing all the paths, he suddenly quitted the road, and favoured by a wood into which he dashed with his horse, escaped out of the quarter-master's sight and with all speed, pursued his course to Varennes.

Arrived at Clermont-the post-station between Sainte Menehould and Varennes-the King was recognised by Count Charles de Damas who awaited him at the head of two squadrons. Without preventing the departure

Between the high and the low town there rises a tower at the entrance of the bridge which separates them. This tower rests upon a heavy, gloomy, and narrow vault, through which carriages are obliged to pass, and which the slightest obstacle can block up. A remnant of feudalism, a wicked snare in which formerly the people were taken by the nobles, but where, by a strange reverse, the people were destined one day to take prisoner a whole monarchy. The carriages have scarcely entered the obscurity of this vault, when the

horses, terrified by an overturned cart, and other obstacles in their path, stop, and five or six men issue forth from the gloom with arms in their hands, rush to the horses' heads, to the boxes and carriage windows, and desire the travellers to dismount and appear before the magistrates to have their passports examined. The man who thus commanded his sovereign was Drouet. Just arrived at Sainte-Menehould, he had awoke out of their first sleep several young patriots, his friends; had imparted to them his conjectures, and inspired them with the uneasiness which devoured him. Still uncertain of the reality of their suspicions, they wished to reserve to themselves the glory of arresting the King of France.

"Madame," replied the good grocer's wife, drily, "I should like to serve you. You think of the king; I think of M. Sausse. A wife ought to think of her husband."

At this sudden encounter; at the sound of these cries; at the sight of these flashing swords and bayonets, the gardes-du-corps rise from their seats, lay their hands upon their concealed swords, and, by a look, demand their orders from the king. The king desires them to desist. The horses heads are turned, the carriages are escorted by Drouet to the house of a grocer named Sausse, who at the same time was a magistrate.

There the king and his family were made to descend from their carriages to have their passports examined. At the same time Drouet's associates disperse them-to selves shouting through the town, knocking at doors, and, mounting the belfry, sound the tocsin. The terrified inhabitants awake, the National Guards of the town and neighbourhood arrive one by one at the door of M. Sausse; others hasten to the detachment of troops to disarm them. In vain the king begins by denying his rank; his features, and those of the queen, betray them; he confesses himself to the mayor and corporation; he seizes the hand of M. Sausse, and addresses him in the most moving terms.

These men affected, respectful in their violence, hesitate and seem vanquished. This spectacle of their suppliant' king, of this queen now majestic, now kneeling before them, endeavouring, by her despair, or her prayers, to wring from their lips a permission to depart, overpowers them. They would have yielded, had they listened to their hearts alone. But they begin to feel for themselves the responsibility of their indulgence. The wife of M. Sausse, whose husband frequently consults her by his eye, and in whose heart the queen hoped to find compassion, is the most insensible of all.

Whilst the king addresses the members of the corporation, the queen weeping, her children on her knees, seated between packages of goods, thus addresses Madame Sausse: "You are a mother, madame, you are a wife. The fate of a wife and mother is in your hands! Think what I must suffer for these children, for my husband! I might owe their lives to one word of yours! The Queen of France will owe you more than her kingdom-more than her life!"

All hope is gone, since there is no longer pity in the heart of woman. The queen retires indignant and furious, with Madame Elizabeth and the children to two little rooms high up in Madame Sausse's house. She bursts into tears. Below, the king, surrounded by the members of the corporation, and National Guards, has also given up endeavouring to move them; he ascends and descends unceasingly the miserable wooden staircase; he goes from the queen to his sister; from his sister to his children. What he has been unable to obtain by compassion, he hopes still to obtain through time and force. In any case, he is convinced he shall be delivered by M. de Bouillé before the return of the courier sent off to Paris; he only wonders that succour is so

long in coming. Hours, however, pass, the night goes over, and yet no succour arrives.

The officer who commanded the squadron of Hussars at Varennes had not been taken into entire confidence. He had only been informed that a treasure would pass the town, which he must escort. No courier had preceded the royal carriages. M. M. de Choiseul and De Guoguelas, who ought to have been at Varennes before the king, and have communicated the latest orders of their secret commission to this officer, were not there. Two other officers, put into complete knowledge of the plans for the journey, and sent by M. de Bouille to Varennes, were at the inn in the lower town, with the horses of M. de Choiseul destined for the carriages; they were ignorant of what was passing in the other parts of the town, and awaited the arrival of M. Guoguelas; they were only aroused by the sound of the tocsin.

M. de Choiseul and M. de Guoguelas, with Count Charles Damas, and his three faithful dragoons, escaped with difficulty from the insurrection of Clermont; galloped, however, towards Varennes; arrived at the towngates three quarters of an hour after the king's arrest; they were recognised by the National Guard, stopped and forced to alight. They demand permission to speak the king. They are permitted. The king forbids them to attempt violence. He awaits each moment the superior forces of M. de Bouillé. Nevertheless, M. de Guoguelas, quitting the house, sees hussars mingling in the crowd, which fills the place; he wishes to prove their fidelity.

"Hussars!" he imprudently exclaims, "are you for the nation or the king?"


"Vive la nation!" reply the soldiers; we are and shall always be for the nation!"

The people applaud. Their commander escapes, and, joining the two officers placed with the horses in the lower town, all three quit Varennes, and hasten to inform their general at Dun.

These two officers had been shot at, when, hearing of the arrest of the king, they had attempted to hasten to him. The night had passed in these vicissitudes. Already the National Guards from the neighboring village had arrived; barriers had been erected between the high and low town, and couriers despatched to Metz and Verdun to request the corporations of those towns to send troops and cannon to Varennes to prevent, as was expected, the carrying off of the king by M. de Bouillé's forces.

(To be continued.)



BY BERTHOLD AUERBACH. Translated by Mary Howitt. (Concluded from p. 106.)

Ir was again Autumn. A lively little girl had increased the number of Stephan's family; but he had lost a friend. The schoolmaster was put in prison, be cause he had received a letter from his brother who had gone out with the emigrants, and in it their lamentable fate was described in vivid colours. They had had to wait many weeks before the commencement of their voyage, and could meet with assistance from no one. The persons who had contracted for the voyage had been faithlessly released from their bargain by the own ers of the ship, and the unhappy emigrants could meet

with no one who would take up their cause and give emphasis to their complaints, hence it happened that many of them fell into the hands of sharpers and kidnappers, and from want of money and friendly advice were induced to become settlers in the unwholesome English and French colonies, where, after a few years,

their death was certain.

The brother's letter ran thus:-


Oh, we Germans! Be it known to you, you are Ger- Here was one who had accomplished that which he mans! Of all people in the world blessed in the highest had meditated. He busied himself tenderly about the degree with a paternal government, and when you pass frantic man, and when at length he was calmed and rethe gaily-painted barrier-lines of your native land, you stored to his senses, he cut Stephan to the heart by sayfind of what value you are in the world, and how guar-ing to him, "Thou art good, Stephan, I thank thee; dians of your safety are everywhere established. We thou hast always been good."

pay by our taxes for ambassadors being sent to every ca- At home Stephan regarded the old mother with pital of the world, in order that couriers may be de-a feeling of thankfulness. He had always looked upon spatched on panting horses to announce what festivals her as the prime cause of his remaining behind in pohave been celebrated, and what great lady has been de-verty, and after all she had been the means of preservlivered--but the subjects who pay these taxes, they re-ing them from much greater misery. quire no protection in foreign lands. They may go to the dogs, the ridicule of the world, or the objects of their utmost compassion-what do they signify? If an acquaintance or a customer of ours who has helped to support us dies, we accompany him to his resting-place in the grave; but the subjects, who until now have helped to maintain the state, and who have emigrated for the greatest part from want, or from fear of want in the future-they are no longer worthy of the care of the paternal government. It is only so long as you can pay taxes that you are under its protection; when you cease to pay these you may go to the devii. That is the law of the paternal governments!"

After a few days the schoolmaster was again released; but he now saw with regret that even his own poor means of gaining a livelihood were ruined to him, and therefore he determined to emigrate in company with Stephan. Stephan had, however, yet to suffer a severe chastisement for the wicked thoughts which he had formerly harboured in his mind.

One day he fastened down some boards which had become loose in the floor of the loft; formerly he had with an untroubled mind seen everything in disorder and falling to pieces, the window in the roof with difficulty holding itself up by one hinge, or people stumbling a hundred times over the broken boards-now, however, he set himself to put all to rights; it seemed to him as if he must put his whole house in order, since he had begun to regulate all his thoughts and actions. The grandmother sate upon the stairs which led up to the loft, and played with the cat. All at once a shrill cry was heard, and the grandmother fell down stairs. Stephan hastened to her help, rushing down the steps with the hammer in his hand. Several neighbours hurried to the spot and gathered round the old woman who lay as the last extremity on the stone floor.

Stephan stood leaning against his door-post one Sunday morning, and quietly watched the swallows which darted through the air with the speed of arrows. The thoughts of emigration which had been for some time slumbering again awoke: he thought that these swal- Stephan stood staring at the lifeless form, pale as lows were now also about to emigrate, and had no lon- death; now that had happened which formerly in the ger any rest, because otherwise they would have to suf-secret of his soul he had so often wished. An intense fer cold and hunger. They were able to remove at will, horror scized him, as if his wishes had accomplished for animals have only to care for themselves and their the deed. He desired to be alone, and ran about as if young while they are little; of parents they know out of his mind; he did not know what to do. Before nothing. long the police came and took Stephan into custody.

With the intention of warning people from emigrating in this improvident manner, the schoolmaster had made several copies of this letter, which he put in circulation, because the police refused to sanction its publication in any newspaper.* And for this cause the schoolmaster was now imprisoned.

That was only, after all, a remnant of the bad, old thought, but to Stephan it seemed as if another person and not he himself, had cherished such thoughts within his heart formerly.

All at once a sudden shout was heard on all sides, "Duke Lumbus is come back again! Duke Lumbus is come back again!"

A man in tattered clothes rushed through the street towards the church-yard, and foaming at the mouth cried, "My wife! give me my wife! Where is she? If she is not there, kill me at once!"

The bell rang for church, and still he cried, "Is she yet buried? Who is it that has murdered her? Who says that it was I?-It was I! Kill me at once! The people who were going to church surrounded madman, who smote his breast and cried,


"Do you see! she stood up aloft on the rope-ladder in the ship; her apron fluttered in the wind, and I could not mount into the ship; I couldn't throw her down. I threw her down from the ladder in the barn and hid

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myself three days in the hay—did you think I was gone on a journey? I never was away-I never was away—I was there!"

He sunk down in violent convulsions, and Stephan was the first who, trembling, and yet full of strength, laid hold upon the fever-stricken man to carry him into the nearest house-it was as if he himself were carrying in his own double.

The censorship of the press, which is in the hands of the police in Germany, prevents any freedom of expression in the public papers.-Eds.

That which he had concealed in the most secret corner of his soul, and against which he had combated, and which he fancied no mortal soul could ever conceive, now was suspected by everybody, and therefore a complaint was lodged against him. He was accused of having struck down the old grandmother with a hammer, with a design of thus taking her life.

The conscience-stricken Duke Lumbus who had voluntarily delivered himself into the hands of justice had easily given occasion to this suspicion in the public | mind.

And yet this terrible occurrence might on the other hand have suggested that it would have been the means of deterring every one from such a crime.

Again Stephan had to experience all the horror of his former premeditated murder, which seemed now laid open to the eyes of the judge, as an accomplished crime worthy of punishunent. He could and would not deny that which had formerly burdened his soul, but then would not this establish and make known his guilt?

Margaret, resolute as she was, had only had one glance at her husband as he was led away by the police, and she now speedily resolved to leave no means of recovery untried with her mother. Fortunately she suc

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