CHAPTER VII.

He stood beside me,

The embodied image of the brightest dream,
That like a dawn heralds the day of life.
The shadow of his presence made my world
A Paradise. All familiar things he touched,
All common words he spake, become to me
Like forms and sounds of a diviner world.

SHELLEY.

"The boy speaks wisely, though he meant it not," answered Leuthold. "The work is beyond his skill-it requires an experienced hand."

"And whom among the carvers in Haarlem can we trust ?—they are a wild, unprincipled set, who would steal our secret and fly. Come, Lucia," he continued, as the door opened, and a young girl entered, "thou hast more sense than either of THE poets liken life to a hurrying river-athy brothers; tell us how we are to get this work journey swift, and yet weary-a changing day. | finished, which John has so angrily given up?" They call time an enemy, a destroyer; at times a Lucia raised her eyes with the same look which beloved friend, but that is only in the bitter irony was peculiar to her in childhood; all else was of sorrow. The fact is, that passing life and changed with her. The round, chubby features changing time are only outward show. The true had become soft, but clearly defined in regular souls who walk the earth-and there are some, proportion. The form had reached the full height thank God! whatever cold-hearted sceptics may of womanhood, childish prettiness was merged into say of humanity-never really change, nor grow perfect beauty-beauty rendered still more lovable old. They only ripen in wisdom and in all good by the mind that shone through it. Lucia at things, and become more fit for the heavenly har- seventeen was, indeed, the perfection of girlhood; vest. In those who are of commoner mould the thoughtful, serene, yet with a world of feeling, wearing body weighs down the mind, and the that almost amounted to passion, slumbering in heart grows old with the frame; but the true the deep, clear eyes, in the tremulous lips. angel-spirits are ever young.

"I do not wonder that John could not carve this delicate work," she said.

"Ay, that is the thing and whom can we trust, my child? A first-rate carver would refuse the task, and of those wild young men that Peter brings here, there is not one who is honest."

Yes, grandfather, there is," answered the "No one can say evil of George Surlan, the wood-carver from Ulm."

girl.

"What! merry George, the master-singer, who steals away old hearts and young with his laughing eyes and his gay songs?"

"He is good as well as merry, grandfather. I am sure you might trust him. And he is a favorite of the master's, too," said Lucia, for the first time lifting her eyes to Leuthold's face.

Thus Leuthold Auerbach, when the dark shadow of forty years was nigh overtaking him, was as young in heart as he had been at twenty-five. His eye yet brightened at the sight of all beautiful things; his voice had its old gentle tone; and though his figure was bent still lower, and Time -in poetical language-had laid his hand on the noble forehead and clustering hair, until every curve of the finely formed head lay bare to the eye of the observer, still Leuthold Auerbach was not an old man. Nature, ever even-handed, sometimes atones to those whose want of beauty makes them look old in youth, by tenderly keeping off the harsher tokens of age. Had the self-seer exercised his gift, now long unused, he would have marvelled that fifteen years should have The two boys burst into a loud laugh. passed over him and left so few traces behind. "You like George because he took your head The " good master" he still kept that name as a model for one of his carved angels, sister. sat one day with his pupils, now growing into How vain girls are !” cried John, maliciously. manhood. John and Peter were busily engaged Lucia glanced towards the master, whose pene in carving types, for all the secrets of his inven-trating gaze was fixed on her countenance. tion were wisely kept by Laurentius within his own family. They were the sole depositaries of the first mysteries of printing, except a servant, Geinsfleicht, who afterwards carried the secret with him to Mentz, and there promulgated it as his own discovery. The old man wandered up and down the room; now looking over the young workmen, now giving orders to his servant, who was busy with the press, and then glancing with pride and pleasure to the various testimonies of his success that adorned the room, in the shape of printed leaves.

saw it, and blushed deeply.

She

"You And

"It is not so, indeed!" she murmured. must not think so ill of me, dear master." she suddenly took Leuthold's hand with a childlike air, as if deprecating reproach.

"Lucia is never vain," said Leuthold, gently, as he drew her towards him with the frank familiarity which ever marked his intercourse with the whole family, and smoothed her beautiful hair, as a father or elder brother might have done. It was a token of regard that was customary between them; and yet Lucia seemed to tremble and change color, even while a smile of radiant happiness hovered round her lips.

Merry George might have known we were talking about him," cried John, who had taken refuge at the window, in a sullen fit. "Look, there he is, coming hither! Now, grandfather, you can put him in my place, as Lucia answers for his honesty so boldly.”

"What shall we do, good friend?" said the

old man, irresolutely, turning to Leuthold, who was, though Laurentius never suspected the fact, the rule of all his actions, having over him the indescribable influence of a strong mind over a weak one.

her every movement with the lingering fondness that only springs from love, she looked carelessly on him, unconscious of the treasure thus thrown away. To the dreaming, maiden, wholly absorbed in her inner world of romance, there was but one

"I think," said the master, "that George on earth who appeared noble, wise, worthy to be would answer thy purpose, Laurentius. Lucia the ideal of girlhood's wildest devotion, and that has spoken truly; he is a clever and honest one was Leuthold Auerbach. youth, the son of a worthy father, whom I knew well. Thou mayst, indeed, trust him."

"The master is always right. I will go and fetch George hither," said Peter; and meeting no opposition, he departed.

Presently George Surlan entered. He was a youth slenderly and gracefully made, whose bright blue eyes and sunny curling hair caused him to look much younger than he really was. His dress was that of a student, but light and gay, and he wore on his shoulder a sort of badge, being a rude representation of King David playing the harp. This was the distinctive mark of the order of master-singers, a brotherhood which rose up in Germany after the Minnesingers had passed away, and which united the musical character of the latter with many rules and rites approaching to masonic. To this fraternity of minstrels, which included men of all ranks, and was at one time almost universal over Germany, the young woodcarver belonged.

The master-singer lifted his cap from his fair curls, and looked with much surprise round the room, which was, according to report, the scene of Coster's mysterious and secret labors. He made a respectful reverence to the old man, and to Leuthold, and then, as his quick eye caught that of the young maiden, it brightened with pleasure.

They tell me you are a true, upright youth, as well as a good carver," abruptly began Laurentius. "I have sent for you to aid us, George Surlan, and I am going to trust you with a great secret. Herr Auerbach says 1 may.'

I

The young man looked gratefully towards the master, and replied

"He shall have no cause to repent his goodness. What can I do?"

And thereupon Laurentius began, in a long harangue, to explain the necessity of secresy, and the solemn promise that he would be expected to make regarding the work he was to do. The mastersinger listened rather impatiently; but Leuthold took advantage of a pause in the discourse to tell all succinctly.

"Thou must promise to keep the secret, and I know thou didst never fail in thy word. I answer for thee, and so does this child, it seems," said Leuthold, smiling at Lucia.

"Then I will engage to do anything in the wide world," cried George Surlan earnestly, clasping the master's hand, though his beaming eyes sought the sweet face of Lucia.

She answered him with a frank and kindly smile; but she did not droop her long lashes-she did not blush. Alas! while the young man's whole soul was laid at her feet, as it were-while he watched

Woman's love is far more spiritualized than man's, inasmuch as it is often entirely independent of outward beauty. A true-hearted woman's nature is full of the quality called hero-worship, and this, mingled with the all-pervading necessity of loving, causes her to be swayed irresistibly by the power of superior intellect. How many a fanciful girl has lavished a world of fondness upon some poet-idol, whom, perhaps, her eyes have never beheld, and whom yet she worships, as mind worships mind, with a love which, though only ideal, needs but a touch to exalt it into the intensity of woman's devotion! How often, too, do we see some beautiful and high-minded woman pour out the whole riches of her loving heart upon one to whom Nature has given nothing but the great spell to win it all-a noble soul! She passes over all external disadvantages of age or person. She sees but the immortal spirit dwelling therein; and it is ever beautiful, ever young. Her soul is bowed down before it in joyful humility, and where she worships, she loves, too, with an earnestness, intensity, and purity, which shadow dimly forth that which the angels bear to divinity itself. Oh, how little can inen know of a love like this!

Therefore, let it not be thought strange if Leuthold had thus unconsciously awakened such deep and absorbing feelings in the heart of a young girl like Lucia. The world scoffs at the romance of girlhood. Nay, women themselves, grown aged and matronly, come in time to look back deridingly on their own young feelings, and say how idle and foolish they were once. And yet this first fresh dream, be it of love or poesy, is one of the few realities of life, not the less true because we out-grow it in time. Others treading after us, again pass through that sunny region, and when we turn and see them, with their innocent romance and their single-hearted confidence, we remember our own old days, and think that there was some truth in those dreams after all.

Sweet, maidenly, and yet high-souled Lucia, with the heart of a woman and the spirit of a child, our eyes grow dim while we picture thee; how thou didst grow up like a pure lily among meaner flowers, and feel gradually the carelessness of childhood merge into the dreams of girlhood; how thou didst love to sit alone, to trace dim regions in cloudland, to listen to invisible music in the wind, to watch the stars, until they seemed mysterious eyes looking down on thee, while vague feelings of delicious sadness stole over thee, and thy tears flowed, though not for sorrow! Poor child! who didst ask of the winds, the clouds, the stars, what was the strange power that so moved thee, and understoodest not the answer that they bore-"Maiden, it is Love!"

SHORT ARTICLES.-Recovered Lake, 496; Copy-Rights; L'Allegro, 511.-From La Motte Fouqué; The Frigate Bird, 515.-Whittier's Poems, 527.

POETRY.- I Want to go Home; Ambition, 515.-Thoughts in Rhyme, by the late John Sterling, 518.-Mont-Blanc Revisited; Lines to California Emigrants, by Mrs. Gardiner, 527.

PROSPECTUS. This work is conducted in the spirit of | now becomes every intelligent American to be informe. ttell's Museum of Foreign Literature, (which was favorably received by the public for twenty years,) but as it is twice as large, and appears so often, we not only give spirit and freshness to it by many things which were excluded by a month's delay, but while thus extending our scope and gathering a greater and more attractive variety, are able so to increase the solid and substantial part of our literary, historical, and political harvest, as fully to satisfy the wants of the American reader.

Or all the Periodical Journals devoted to literature and science which abound in Europe and in this country, this has appeared to me to be the most useful. It contains indeed the exposition only of the current literature of the English language, but this by its immense extent and comprehension includes a portraiture of the human mind in the utmost expansion of the present age. J. Q. ADAMS.

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.-No. 253.-24 MARCH, 1849.

1. Brothers and

From the Christian Remembrancer.

2. The Neighbors. Longman & Co.

3. The President's Daughters; and Nina. Long-
man & Co.

4. The Home. Smith, Fleet Street.

"Have you read 'The Neighbors,' and how do Sisters. Translated from the you like the Bear and his wife, and what do you Swedish by MARY HOWITT. Colburn. think of ma chère mère?” And in reply, everybody had read The Neighbors, and thought the Bear and his wife delightful, and agreed that ma chère mère was a new character, an artist's creation, conceived and executed with equal genius and boldness. People were charmed with her long speeches, instructed by her proverbs, diverted by her eccentricities, awed by her tragic passion; they only wished that her first introduction-playing the fiddle to her servants' dancing-had been

5. The H

Family. Smith, Fleet Street.

6. Life in Dalecarlia. Clarke & Co., Old Bailey.
7. Strife and Peace. Smith, Fleet Street.

Ir is now some years since the interest of the story-loving world was excited by a series of tales fresh from a northern land, which, though not dis-on any other evening in the week but Sunday, and tant from us, was yet almost as much a terra in- that there had been some indication of the Bear cognita as old Scandinavia to the ancient world. and his wife having been at church, which they While Sweden was well versed in our literature-clearly had not; but these were features of nanot only acquainted with Shakspeare, but familiar tional manners, and we have often to get over with such newer lights as Bulwer and Miss Mar- such things. As for Bruno, few people talked tineau——we as a nation knew no more of that coun- about him, and a great many "skipped" wherever try than could be collected from one or two books he appeared in the scene—from an entire want of of travels, or the sight in the court circular of interest or sympathy in that style of character. some long unpronounceable name which used to Books where the bad parts are also dull, have a be classed in the fancy with his Excellency the great advantage. Dulness is a veil. Even if the Turkish Ambassador or a Rajah from Burtpore. eye takes in, the attention does not; or if it does We are not speaking of an enlightened public, but for a moment, the memory will not retain it, but of the larger class who read for amusement, and fills itself with the more attractive parts of the to whom the Swedes as a people were as little story. As a fact, many have read "The Neighknown, and as little objects of thought and inter- bors," and forgotten what a curious epitome of all est, as Kamstchatka. What a surprise, then, the vices this Bruno is, how full of all dark, evil, what a new world, to see opened to us vivid pic-base passions, how selfish up to the last moment. tures of a society at once new in many of its so- They have cared too little for him and Serena to recial aspects, and yet akin to all our sympathies: member what a sacrilege and profanation was comlively, intellectual, domestic! where we see real-mitted in uniting him to the author's idea of the ized that favorite dream of the imagination of all perfect, the angelic Serena. Bruno was passed times, the union of the refined with the homely over as a sort of Corsair, and Serena was simply where the most opposite excellences seem to com- insipid. The interest rested at the time, and the bine as in the golden age-where the ideal Ar- memory looks back, on the real character of the cadian shepherdess finds her type in the Swedish piece; and it should not be omitted as a testimony lady, at once elegant, refined, accomplished, and to the author's native and genuine taste, that her skilled in all housewifely labors; alternately de- heart and imagination dwell more gladly, expatiate lighting her hearers by her sallies of wit and more freely, in scenes of innocent affection, harmthought in the saloon, and ministering to their less mirth, honest, pure, self-sacrifice, than in the vulgarer wants in the kitchen. But nothing there workings of a dark, misanthropic spirit. There is is really vulgar: the "pancakes," the patties, the no love of evil in her mind; on the contrary, it raspberries and cream, prepared by her hands, warms to everything pure, generous, and noble. have all an ambrosial fragrance, and seem elevat- This all her works testify, especially (we are sorry ed above their rank in the ordinary carte de cuisine. to enforce the qualification) her earlier ones. The perpetual allusion to these dainties, the im- the perusal of them all forces one painful convicportant part that favorite dishes play in the most tion on the mind—that with all a certain constant, excited and inspiring situations, is quite another and we believe sincere profession of religious feelmatter to what such an intrusion would appear in ing, the series of her works betrays an absolute our common-place joints and puddings: they har- want of settled principle and Christian faith. She monize with the humor, the sentiment, the sublime has a religion of her own, but it is not the Chrisaspirations of the various actors in the scene, with tian religion. There is no recognition even of the a perfect congeniality. duty of casting down imaginations, no bringing It was all very new, very amusing, very re-into captivity any thought to the obedience of freshing. Every lady asked of her correspondent, Christ. If her reason or fancy falls in with the

But