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“ Indeed !" I exclaimed, confused, " I did not know I had had the honour of tripping up the Comtesse Von Dornheim."

“ Nor did I,” she replied, “ but you had the misfortune, or, perhaps, I may say, the unpoliteness, to cause myself and my partner a heavy fall, and you disappeared without stopping to say a single word of excuse.”

"The fact is," I blundered out, " that I imagined I was dancing with the Comtessa herself, and as my partner, whoever she was, was at that very moment making the most extraordinary disclosures to me, I am ashamod to say I was too much interested to remember what politeness required of me."

“Never mind politeness," said the Comtesse, giving up in despair her attempt at incognito, “but tell me who or what that pink domino con ceals. She has been telling me strange things about my-my nephew. She says he is here and that I have been dancing with him, and--and that --no that was all; but is it not strange ?"

"Von Dornheim here !" I exclaimed. “I should much like to discover him. How can we manage

" Because I believe her to be a relation of mine."

“Indeed! perhaps your aunt?" said I, thinking of Von Dornheim. “No, my mother."

“Then you must be mistaken, that lady has no children.”

"None that you know of, perhaps," replied the stranger. “It is not common to publish the birth of- of an illegitimate offspring.” There was a strange bitterness in the tone which struck me, as the stranger spoke.

“Look you here,” he continued. “There is no wrong so great as the wrong of one's birth. There is no cruelty, no villany, so great as the scorn with which the world oppresses those whose birth is their only fault. Would you blame a man, who, spurned as a bastard, turns again, and curses the immorality of the age which has laid him under that ban? Would you blame him if he sought to reform that immorality, and infuse a better spirit through the age? This country is the scum of Europe. Its nobility is ignorant, proud, and licentious as that of the middle ages. Its vices are encouraged by the example of a polluted court, and the proffered ab. solution of a pampered and vicious priesthood. The people, the real strength, the real vigour of the nation, of which the aristocracy is merely the useless blossom, are oppressed and strained. Its ignorance and superstition, worse here than anywhere, are encouraged and preserved by a cowardly hierarchy. Progress can only come through the people, and if Bavaria will rise from the slough in which she has sunk, it must be through the people alone. What then? Because I go among them because I teach them their own value, and point out their duty-because I tell them a time will soon come, when they, their own governors by nature, and not the slaves of an idiot despót and the false laws he may coin, will be called upon to act, and prepare themselves for self-government and self-improvement-because I do this, a price is set upon my head, and I am cursed as a revolutionist and a lover of disorder "

He spoke very low, as he continued

“The blow must come ere long. France, as she has done before, will lead the way. Corruption cannot


"I am sure I don't know. I have only danced three times-once with a man who was much too short, then with another who was much too tall, and lastly with one who was much too disagreeable."

"The last is the most probable," said I ; "nephews don't always treat their aunts with the respect they would claim."

As I spoke, I spied the pink wand; I rushed after it for some distance, but I was suddenly stopped by a rude arm.

"Sherwood," said a deep gruft voice, “it's useless to chase that will o'-the-wisp. There is a demon beneath that pink disguise who will do you only more harm than good. Stay, tell me who is the blue domino you have just been talking to ?”

I looked at my questioner: it was the same tall black figure that I had seen talking to the pink incognita.

"And why do you want to know ?" said I.

secure peace; it will only breed nausea; then their weapon will recoil on their own head. The monarchy and the nobility of Bavaria will share the common lot, and those now around us will be left to regret their licentiousness and blindness. I would fain avert this blow. I am not Von Ritter's only pupil. Ten other fellow-workers are in this room beside myself, and each has his complete disguise, for our end will not sanction foolbardiness. We labour to avert this blow; we do our utmost to awaken the people, and for this our names are cursed and our lives are in jeopardy. I tell you this that you may know me, and appreciate what other men will cry down. In the eyes of the law I have no father, but I have a country, which I love the more, because I am, as it were, an orphan, and worse than an orphan. I can speak to you thus because you are an Englishman, and my friend. Go now after the little pink sorceress, and remember never to betray Von Dornheim."

66 Von Dornheim !" I exclaimed, my own friend." But he had torn away from me, and I followed him in vain. Von Dornheim the son of the Countess! How many doubts this explained. And who, then, was his father?

I sank upon a bench, stupified by these two strangest of revelations. Dornheim a child of shame and Beatrix-ah! but that could not be true! And Koprad in the condemned path of patriotism. Alas, for patriots ! if true patriots there are any-in the nineteenth century. There is but one road to success for them, and that is—Power. If they do not begin with money and selfishness, they can never end in raising or reforming their beloved country. There is but one key to all good beyond one's narrow circle in this age, and that is of gold. Without this the patriot will be an adventurer, a place-hunter, or a revolutionist in the eyes of the people he desires to save.

I sat long brooding on this quaint subject, till I again remembered my interest about the strange pink domino.

I got up and hunted throughout the place for her, but as uselessly as before. I could find no trace of her. The crowd was already thinning, and as it was very late, there was soon a continuous stream towards the great exit.

Luckily there was but one door through which the crowd could leave, at least, as far as I knew. I instantly bethought me that by placing myself there I should be sure to see her pass out, if she were not already gone. I remained watching each motley figure till the theatre was empty. When I reentered it, the huge chandeliers were being let down, and the lights put out, while the whole of the gay scene was converted to one of double desolation.

I went into every nook and recess, and dived stealthily into every sidechamber, ere I gave up the search. Then, at last, with a heavy heart, I loitered reluctantly away, and finding that the doors were being closed, I issued into the dark night. A number of carriages were still taking up their human burdens, and a number of small groups dispersing across the open square. In vain I sought through the dark night for the object of my interest, till at length I gave up the hunt, and took the direction of my home at a sharp pace.

I had not gone far; bowever, before I heard angry voices proceeding from a narrow street, or rather alley, the entrance to which I was now passing. I was far from being in a humour to mingle in a brawl, and was quickening my pace, when I heard a loud cry for help. I could not pass by without answering this appeal, the more so that it seemed to be in a woman's voice. I turned down the dark and gloomy lane, little dreaming where I was going to, and seeing scarcely & yard before me. The noise was increasing, and I could hear struggling footsteps on the rough stones a few feet before me. The next moment I could perceive a tall stout figure, dragging a woman across the road by the arm, and evidently making for an open door hard by.

Without a moment's reflection, I collared the man, and, as he was taken by surprise, I had no difficulty in throwing him down.

"Drag him into the house, and shut the door on him," said the woman who was thus released.

I had little difficulty in doing so, and the door closed on him. The woman locked it by turning a key which was sticking in it, and calling out, “Follow me," disappeared down the dark lane.

I did so, and soon overtook her.

“I cannot thank you,” said she, hastening on, in the same voice which had been tormenting me all the evening, “ for you have done me as much harm by putting me under an obliga. tion to you, as you have done me good by rescuing me."

"You are then the little pink domino!" I exclaimed, astonished at the change of dress which she had undergone, for she was now in complete black.

"Look," said she, turning up the corner of her cloak, as we issued into a broader street, and showing me its pink lining.

"Then the least you can do, in return for my services, is to explain to me the meaning of your strange conduct."

"I am not altogether sorry we have met," she said, though I wish it had been under other circumstances.”

“And I am delighted I have overtaken you, for I am determined you shall explain the calumny you have uttered against Beatrix Von Ritter.”

“I wish to heaven it were a calumny,” she replied. Then musing a moment, she added, “you have seen Von Dornheim, and he has told you everything?"

“How can you know that ?" I asked in amazement.

“No matter; I have no time to explain mysteries, suffice that I know all that you can. Dornheim has told you of his parentage, and though his account is strange, you believe him. Why not believe what I say of Beatrix ? And what motive do you think I could have in such a revelation? Do you inagine that I could be interested in maligning a young innocent creature? I must be a demon indeed to do that."





With calve's head on a stately dish

The landlord hurried in,
A bitter smile crept round the board,

But never shout or din;
Then wine from the cobwebb'd cellar,

Came in the wattled flask,
And the man who sat at the table end

Looked grim in a velvet mask.

With cautious step the chairman rose,

Slipp'd softly over the floor ;
With a silver nail that hung from his neck

He clamp'd the oaken door.
But first they brought a roasted pike,

With a gudgeon in his jaw-
Type of the way that nations lie,

Torn in a tyrant's maw.

Then a second door they surely locked,

Threw the key in the red-hot fire.
But they spoke in murmurs soft and low,

Scarce than a whisper higher.
'Twas the thirty-first of the month, at night,

In a tavern near Whitehall,
That a man in a mask, on a pale calve's head,

A red wine-stream let fall.

A Nonconformist society, at whose dinners a calve's head was the well-understood sneer

at Charles the Second's execution.

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“ Then hats flew up and swords sprang out,

And lusty rang the chorus :
Never," they cried, “while Scots are Scots,

And the broad Frith's before us."
A ruby ring the glasses shine

As they toast the landlord's daughter,
Because she wore the white, white rose

That grew best over the water.

A poet cried, “Our thistle's brave,

With all its stings and prickles;
The shamrock with its holy leaf

Is spar'd by Irish sickles.
But bumpers round, for what are these

To Kate the landlord's daughter,
Who wears at her bosom the rose as white,

That grows best over the water?"

They dash'd the glasses at the wall,

No lip might touch them after;
The toast had sanctified the cups

That smash'd against the rafter ;
Then chairs thrown back, they up again,

And toast the landlord's daughter.
But never forgot the white, white rose,

That grew best over the water,


PIPEs blowing, drums beating, colours flying, cries and laughter,
Ribbons driving, bells jingling, merry cheering fore and after,
Mad spurring, hot whipping, and all because Sir William Grey
Has match'd his white horse Sorel against Sir Robert's bay.

Hawks whistling, scarves blowing, horns blasting, hither, thither,
Horse neighing, kicking, fretting, at the gall upon their wither,
Strap-pulling, stirrup-lowering, eyes looking at the sky,
When, with a blast of trumpets, they let the falcon fly.

Cloud-piercing, wind-scorning, lightning-pinioned, flew the falcon,
High soaring, proud of plumage, keen-talon'd for the hawking.
There was whooping, yelling, shouting, because Sir Robert swore,
A braver bird, from gentle wrist, flew never up before.

White against the dark sky, all a-smother with grey clouds,
When the sullen mists of autumn hung upon the woods in shrouds ;-
Rose the falcon piercing heaven, arrow-swift, and fiery eyed,
High above the swelling vapours and the sunset's burning tide.

Drums beating, pipes blowing, trumpet-banners, all a-flutter,
Pages gambol, ladies whisper, falconers look black and mutter
And all because Sir Robert Grey drew off his falcon's hood,
And flung hinn up to catch his mate, above the Castle wood.

Now above the tallest poplar, now above the last red cloud, -
Ah! should not any gentleman of such a bird be proud ?
Now on his towering prey he falls, a smiting thunder-bolt,
And strikes him in a bloody leap, stone dead upon the holt.

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