In 1869 I went to Heidelberg, on a Government mission, for the purpose of studying and acquiring first-hand knowledge of the organization of the German universities. To me, Germany was the land of metaphysics, of music and poetry. Great was my amazement to find that the sole object of conversation, except among the socalled lower classes, was the war which Prussia was about ot wage on France. At an evening party I heard some one whisper behind me: Vielleicht ist er ein franzosischer Spion: "Perhaps he is a French spy. At a restaurant frequented by students, one of them sat down by my side and said to me: "We are about to wage war on France; we shall take from you Alsace and Lorraine." At the university itself, Treitschke's classes, attended by a number of excited students, were simply inflammatory harrangues against the French, incitements to hatred and war. After a three months' stay, I returned to Paris, convinced that hostilities were on the point of breaking out. On a subsequent visit, I found that public opinion was torn between two conflicting doctrines. The unity of Germany was the object of general aspiration; there was no agreement, however, as too the manner in which this unit was to be conceived and realized.

Treitschke's theory was: Freiheit durch einheit, "freedom through unity," i. e., unity first above all else, freedom afterwards, when circumstances should allow one to think of it; and, for the realization of this unity, the enrollment of Germany under Prussian rule, in view of war in France. Now, against Treitschke's formula stood that of Bluntschli: Einheit durch Freiheit, "unity through freedom." This doctrine tended first to safeguard the in

dependence and equality of the German states and then to establish a sort of federative union between them. And just as it advocated a union without hegemony in the heart of Germany, so did it conceive of German unity as something that must be effected without offending other nations, more especially without threatening France. There was to be a free Germany in a free world.

At this period Germany had come to a parting of the ways. Was she to follow her own tendency and natural trend, as many noble hearts and minds would have preferred, or was she wholly to give in, and to advance with bowed head along the path traced out by Prussia: that was the question. The war party, the party that favored unity as the means of attacking and plundering France, won the day, and success made its preponderance a definite one. From that day those who claim to have remained faithful to an ideal of freedom and humanity have literally been crushed out.

Is it possible that Germany may some day return to the crossway where she found herself previous to 1870, and this time strike out another path, that of such men as Leibnitz, Kant and Bluntschli, a path leading first to individual and national freedom, and afterwards but only afterwards-proceeding towards a state of union and harmony in which the rights of all are respected alike?

There enters my mind a phrase used by the Scottish professor, William Knight: "The best things have to die and be reborn." The Germany that was respected and admired by the whole world, the Germany of Leibnitz and Goethe, appears to be dead indeed: will she be reborn?

S

OME fifteen years before the American Revolution, when dear old Manchester-by-the-Sea was very youthful, there lived in the town a young girl whose name was destined to become a synonym to later generations of the neighborhood for strenuous excellence of character, for thrifty, healthy womanhood. It was already famed for her beauty.

or

She was perhaps perhaps seventeen eighteen, when she dreamed one night that she saw a handsome young man come dashing up to her door on a splendid great black charger, and that she eventually became his bride. This dream was so very vivid that every detail of the scene and every lineament of the man's face became indelibly stamped on her mind. For all that, she was as much amused as excited and at the breakfast table next morning told with great glee of her vision. It made quite a sensation in her family, however. For a long while afterwards, the coming of "the back kinght for his bride" was the subject of frequent discussion between herself and her sisters. Then as months passed, it faded gradually from their minds-faded, but did not disappear.

The tenor of this girl's life seems to have run quite evenly. There was not much to disconcert, not much to excite, not much even to divert the average maiden in those days. She could knit, of course; it was in the natural order of things that she should master this handicraft thoroughly. Indeed, her whole life was celebrated for knitting. She made dainty bits of embroidery, too, and beautiful samplers, and during the same girlhood years learned to ride a horse with remarkable skill and grace. Admirers appeared and sought to woo; but among them

all came no young Lochinvar. An occasional visit to Boston or to the neighboring town of Lynn furnished real variety and pleasure, even though these brief journeys represented the full extent of her peregrinations.

It is in the course of one of these urban visits of hers that the curtain rises for us upon the second scene of her charming little romance-drama.

Now, on the same night on which the fair descendant of Pilgrim forefathers had experienced her wonderful dream, a young man over in Scotland was just finishing his preparations for a long journey. It was the eve of his sailing for much-talked-of America, where he intended to seek his fortune. At length, weary with the excitement and labor of the day he fell asleep, and in his slumbers was visited by the radiant vision of a beautiful girl in America, who was to be his bride. Was such a dream only the result of various long and delightful day dreams concerning the possibilities of that far-off land, or some wonderful occult and psychic phenomenon? Never mind, young Scotsman declared it too pleasant to be unwelcome, though likely to be too good to be true. But

On the succeeding night as, he lay in his rough bunk on shipboard and rocked with the tossing billows, the vision came again, and so, too, on the third night-the very same vision to its minutest detail. Now, indeed, the young man was deeply impressed. A dream repeated three times, he had heard, would surely come true; and he felt convinced somewhere in the world this charming girl was waiting for him. From those moments the dream-girl became his constant mental companion, his most intimate friend.

In America the young adventurer

found profitable work and congenial friends, so that time passed very pleasantly for more than a year. Some of the maidens of Boston, in which city he lived, proved themselves quite bewitching, but none of them was altogether captivating. Young Sammy Samples aspired to a fairer damsel, his dream-girl of "long ago."

One day, he was invited to spend the Sabbath in Lynn with a friend. It would be a pleasant holiday for him. He and the friend who invited him could attend the long church service, then have a quiet stroll along the sands, a good dinner, and finally part refreshed and happier for the day's companionship. Also, urged this friend, the maidens of Lynn were, if possible more charming than those of Boston, and since he could not give his heart to any of those, perhaps he might, etc., etc.

When the Sunday came, Sammy and his friend were in their places at church. It was a sunshiny morning, and soft breaths of balmy air swept in at the open windows. The women's side of the church was bright with color, for the long pews were well filled with maidens and matrons, old and young, in their best bonnets and dainty summer gowns, which kept up a faint rustling good to hear, as the wearers swayed their fans. Sammy looked wistfully adown the series of devoutly bending heads. Oh, the charming sight! If only she were-ah! Among the prettiest maidens in a pew nearly opposite to his own, he had espied one whose pink bonnet strings fascinated him strangely. Now, she had turned her head, as if by some irresistible impulse, and he saw her face, though their glances did not meet, alas, alas! But did he not know those features? It was the dream-girl, in all the beauty of reality. Sammy Samples did not hear the sermon that morning.

After service, he tried to find and watch Her, so as to discover Her name and home. He even asked his friend about Her, but the friend did not know, had never seen her before. And in the confusion of quitting

the church, they lost her even to sight.

Sammy tried hard to find out who she was, but all in vain. No one he could find in Lynn knew anything about her. Poor Sammy then tried to drive her image from his mind, but that, too, was vain. He began to grow restless, and finally embarked as a sailor.

A year and more passed, during which Sammy made many voyages; always, however, returning to Boston and to Lynn, to renew his search, then departing sadly for another long ab

sence.

But there came a day at last when persistence won, as persistence has the reputation of doing. His repeated inquiries brought to light the fact that the girl lived in Manchcester-bythe-sea, and that she had also spent that memorable Sunday morning in Lynn at the invitation of a friend.

He lost no time in borrowing the riding horse of a friend in Boston and setting out towards the north Massachusetts shore.

Meanwhile our fair maid of Manchester was almost equally agitated by conflicting fears and hopes. In the course of the sermon that morning in Lynn, she had realized that some one on the men's side of the church was gazing seriously and earnestly at her, and at an opportune instant when she felt that his glance was withdrawn temporarily, she had looked, covertly, across the aisle, and seen, oh, surely, that was his face! In maidenly confusion, she had escaped as swiftly as possible, when the service ended; then, of course, to regret, secretly, and with girlish terror, that she had not hesitated for one little moment. She had returned directly to Manchester. Afterwards, because her romantic young mind was thoroughly fascinated by that morning's adventure, she actually set in motion a series of inquiries concerning the handsome stranger. Quite in vain. Now her sisters, who had discovered her daring strategy, laughed at her, and she herself was sometimes tempted to listen favorably to the

mirers.

When a whole year had gone and the second summer was merging into autumn, on a certain mellow morning the sisters were disturbed at their industrious needlework beside an open window by sudden clattering of hoofs. They looked up to see a real, flesh-andblood youth, riding to their door upon a big black steed. They immediately remembered the "black knight" of the dream, and hastened to summon her to whom the vision had appeared. The young man was invited in andwell, it was not long before wedding bells rang merrily in that little town by the sea. On the wedding day, Sammy Samples gave to his bride a singularly odd ring, three circlets joined in one. When Mrs. Samples died, the circlets were divided among her three daughters. Of these circlets one still exists, being owned by a descendant who values her heirloom very highly. The other two sections have disappeared; one has been lost, the other was buried with its owner.

Samuel Samples, though a very bright young man, tradition claims, did not amass wealth. He continued to follow the sea, as do so many men who have once felt the call of the billows After a few years he died, whether at sea or not, tradition does not tell.

And then Mrs. Samples proved that useful industry and intelligence and beauty are sometimes most happily combined in one feminine individual. She opened a store, the first in Manchester, where she sold a variety of goods desired by her townspeople. She found the business so profitable that, after a time, she was able to build a house for her little family, the house that is now occupied by the Proctors whose father, Joseph Proctor, was a noted actor. Tradition says that she carried many of the bricks for the new cellar to the chosen site in her apron. Throughout the troublous times of the Revolution, the quaint shop in Manchester flourished, being replenished again and again from over seas by friendly merchants who had known

who had known every luxury had to resort to thorns as a substitute for pins and needles; Mrs. Samplés felt genuine. sympathy for the poor Boston dames, and determined to visit that city with some of her plentiful supplies. On the occasion of her first trip, she set out for Boston on horseback with a package of the much-wanted articles. She found the city guarded by British sentinels, who but reluctantly allowed her to pass. Once inside, however, she was able to spend several days with her imprisoned friends and readily to dispose of her needles. Getting outside again was equally difficult with getting inside, but it did not daunt the plucky young widow, who repeated her visit of philanthropy many times during the war.

It was while engaged in these errands that she established her remarkable reputation for knitting. She was in the habit of going to Boston sometimes by horseback, sometimes by barge, and usually returned to Manchester on foot. During these long walks and rides Mrs. Samples' thrifty soul would not let her enjoy the scenery in idleness, but kept her fingers busy with some piece of knitting. One time, while on the water, the sail veered around suddenly and knocked her into the sea. Tradition says that while under the water she kept right on with her knitting, accomplishing seven stitches. Perhaps tradition meant to state that she dropped seven stitches. I will leave that to the judgment of my readers.

Later in life, Mrs. Samples married a certain Colonel Crafts, who had distinguished himself in the recent war. She was still in the prime of her womanhood, and ambitious. Colonel Crafts opened a fine new ordinary-the first and best inn the town can boast,-and his handsome wife became known through the countryside as a very clever and attractive hostess, of whom he was justly proud. But neither this pleasant mending of her fortunes nor the multiplying years could change her habits of industry or lessen her ath