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cigar to my dog nose! I must have de satisfaction, or de] meets by chance with Veronica, the daughter of an Arapology, tout-de-suite.'

"But, sir, I have not insulted you.'

menian banker, and the consequence is a mutual attachment. Soon after their first interview, Ghika has the

“Sare, you insult my dog-he is von and de same ting good fortune to save the life of the old banker, who had

--mon chien est un chien de sentiment. He feel de affront all de same vid me-I feel de affront all de same vid him. Vous n'avez qu'à choisir, Monsieur"Between you and your dog?' answered M'Elvina -Well, then, I'd rather fight the deg.'

"Bah! fight de dog-de dog cannot fight, sare; mais je suis son maure et son ami, and I will fight for him.' "Well, then, Monsieur, I did insult your dog, I must acknowledge, and I will give him the satisfaction which you require.

"And how will you give de satisfaction to de dog?" "Why, sir, you said just now that he was un chien re beaucoup de sentiment; if he is so, he will accept, and properly appreciate, my apology.'

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been assailed in the midst of a festive party by a drunken janissary. In the confusion which ensues, the lovers find a moment to express their feelings to each other. Several stolen meetings which subsequently take place, serve but to heighten their love. The espionage of an Italian priest, however, ferrets out the astounding fact, that Veronica has been seen and loved by an heretical Greek, and in consequence, the good-humoured duenna who had connived at their meetings, is kicked out of doors, and the family take flight for a country house on the banks of the Bosphorus.

Ghika pursues the fugitives, and takes up his abode the Armenians, commanding a view of it from a window with a poor Greek, whose house adjoins the garden of in the upper story. Sitting at this window he enjoys the

"Ah, sare,' replied the Frenchman, relaxing the stern wrinkles of his brow, c'est bien dit; you will make de apo legy to de dog. Sans doute, he is de principal; I am only de second. C'est une affaire arrangée. Moustache, viens ici, Moustache. (The dog came up to his master.) Mon-pleasure of hearing all his youthful errors dinned, with a sieur est très-faché de t'avoir brulé le nez.

"Monsieur Moustache!' said M'Elvina, taking off his hat, with mock gravity, to the dog, who seemed determined to keep at a respectful distance, Je vous demande mille

excuses.'

"Ah! que c'est charmant!' cried some of the fair sex, who, as well as the men, had been attracted by, and were listening to, the dispute. Que Monsieur Anglois est drole; et voyez Moustache, comme il a l'air content-vraiment c'est un chien d'esprit.'

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Alle, Moustache,' said his master, who was now all smiles, donnez la patte à Monsieur-donnez donc. Ah, sare, he forgive you, I am very sure,-il n'a pas de malice; but he is afraid of de cigar. De burnt child dred de water,

as your great Shakspeare say.'

"C'est un chien de talent; il a beaucoup de sentiment. Je suis bien fâché de l'avoir blessé, Monsieur.'

"Et Monsieur parle Français ?'

"I should esteem myself fortunate, if I spoke your language as well as you do mine,' replied M'Elvina in French. This compliment, before so many bystanders, completely won the heart of the vain and choleric Frenchman.

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"Ah, sare, you are too complaisant. I hope I shall have de pleasure to make your acquaintance. Je m'appelle Monsieur Auguste de Poivre. J'ai l'honneur de vous presenter une carte d'addresse. I live on the top of my mother'ssur l'entresol. My mother live on de ground rez de chaussée. Madame ma mère will be delighted to receive a Monsieur of so much vit and addresse.' So saying, away went Monsieur Auguste de Poivre, followed by Moustache, who was 'all von and de same ting.'

"Well, we live and learn,' said M'Elvina, laughing, as soon as the Frenchman was at a little distance; I never thought that I should have made an apology to a dog.'Oh, but,' replied De Briseau, 'you forget that he was un chien de sentiment !"-Vol. i. pp. 171-6.

They who read novels, will deprive themselves of a positive enjoyment if they do not read " The King's Own."

The Armenians; A Tale of Constantinople. By Charles Macfarlane, Esq., author of "Constantinople in 1828." 3 vols. 8vo. London. Saunders and Ottley. 1830. THE author of this novel, although perhaps a little too diffuse in his descriptions of the beauties of nature and art, and of the peculiarities of costume-a failing which might have been better tolerated in a book of travels, but which hangs teazingly upon our progress when hurried on by a tale of passion-has presented us, nevertheless, with a work of great and engrossing interest. Although the love adventures of the hero and heroine, the history of their affection, the various obstacles which impede their bliss, and finally the tragical denouement of the story, are simple and natural enough, yet the strong expression of passion which pervades the whole, seizes upon us more powerfully than any fantastic complexity of plot could have done.

Prince Ghika, the son of a hospodar of Wallachia,

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thousand malicious misrepresentations and comments, into his mistress's ears, by two starched female relations. Having managed, however, to make Veronica aware of his propinquity, they bless themselves with conversation

for a few brief stolen moments. But the Padre is on the

alert, and soon snuffs out what is hidden behind the jalousies at the foot of the garden. An army of bricklayers is summoned, who raise the wall, and build out the Prince's view. He retorts by raising a wooden pharos on the roof of the house, from which he can still look down upon the garden. The Armenians prepare to raise rival elevations might have been stayed, but for a comtheir wall still higher, and there is no saying when the motion among the Moslem population, alarmed lest the buildings of the Giaours should overtop the mosques, which is only allayed by the interference of the MimarAga, who, after extorting a swinging sum from either party, orders the window to be blocked up.

Though debarred the pleasure of meeting, the lovers find a medium through which to correspond, and thus solace their weary days, until one unlucky morning their envoy has the audacity to laugh at the tax-gatherer. Being apprehended, a piece of paper with Armenian characters is found upon him. The officers of finance, doubtful that it may conceal somewhat treasonable, consult the first Armenian who passes, and he proves to be the brother of Veronica, who immediately discovers the whole, and puts an end to the correspondence. The Prince is roused from the lethargy into which this misadventure cast him, by the news that the Armenians have projected a pleasure party on the Bosphorus, and hired a boatman who had long been his creature. Disguised as a Greek sailor, he notifies his presence to his mistress; and after the party have landed, and are carousing on shore, he manages once or twice to steal near enough to whisper his passion to her. The last time he is unlucky; for on returning to the company, one person remarks that the supposed boatman has lost an eyebrow, and Veronica's brother

discovers the stray ornament adhering to her veil.

The Armenians now fly once more before the enterprising Ghika to the village of Belgrade, whither he once more follows them, disguised as an Englishman. His neighbourhood not being suspected by Veronica's family, he obtains several interviews with her, until he is again discovered in consequence of their loitering one evening too long in the mazes of the forest. The Armenians being now frightened back to Pera, by the breaking out of the insurrection of the janissaries, which ended in the destruction of the whole body, Ghika meets their timorous cavalcade by the way, having rode out from Constantinople expressly to afford them protection. His assistance is accepted by the cowardly banker with sullen acquiescence. He attends them through their dangers, encounters with them the dispersed and desperate soldiery, until he takes leave of them at their own door, unthanked—

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"This man wore the dress of an officer. He was one of the very few superiors of the janissaries that had not been detached from the body, and gained over to the Sultan and the system of the Nizam-djedid, by the treachery and bribery which had been actively at work among them for many years, and had indeed prepared that day's catastrophe.

"As Constantine reined up his horse, he recognised in the disfigured, fallen form of the gigantic janissary, a certain Noured-Agha, whom he had known in former times, and whose Herculean proportions, beautiful manly face, and thick black beard, had frequently excited the stripling's involuntary admiration and envy. But there he lay in the dust-bis voice of thunder softened to a moan, and his almost superhuman strength with scarce remains enough to raise his bare and muscular arm to motion to his friends that they should leave him.

"Some of these desperate fellows, casting a farewell glance at their chief, went on their way; but a certain affection, or respect, or awe, which the gigantic man imposed to the last on their barbarous minds, retained a few round the person of their chief; and after a long shuddering, as he seemed somewhat to revive, they proposed that he should rise from the ground, and they would carry him in their

arms.

"It is of no avail, my friends,' said Noured, opening his eyes, which were glazed and ghastly; 'my hour is come. I hear the angel of death rustling his black wings on my burning head!'

Man knows not his destiny until it is accomplished; and while breath remains, there is hope that Azrael has not received his warrant. Noured-Agha was in as bad a state as this when he was dragged from the hoofs of the Muscove cavalry, in the plain before Shumla, and yet

Noured has lived twelve years since then.'

"The dying man raised his head, and, after a tremendous effort, and a horrible rattling in his throat, he replied, with a hoarse voice, to his friends,

"Hark ye! Twelve years ago, my arm was broken by a Muscove bullet-the grape shot, that fell thick as hail, wounded me in trunk and limb-a ghiaour's bayonet threw me to the earth, and a troop of horse charged over me as I lay! But twelve years ago, I was the father of two bold boys-I had friends-I had hopes- but now!-Have I not seen, this morning, my sous in manhood's pride, my brother, the friends that gathered under my roof, fall one by one by my side? Have we not seen ourselves deserted and betrayed, and does not triumphant treachery and revenge proclaim that an order-the glorious and the ancient-the order of Hadji Bektash, is forever annihilated, and a price set upon each of our heads?'

"Noured's voice, that had risen as he spoke, here failed him-his heavy eyelids dropped over his glazed eyeballs, and a convulsive movement through all his robust frame seemed to indicate that the last dread struggle was passing: but, to the surprise of all, he presently sprang to his feet, his eyes again glared with passions indescribable and awful -he outstretched both his arms towards Stambool, and exclaimed, in tones that might recall the voice that had quelled some hearts in the enemies' ranks,

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Sultan Mahmood, traitor and caitiff, take my dying curse-my malediction for me and mine! The gaunt spectre -the embodied crimes of man, the accumulation of all the guilt he has committed, which offers itself to his sight as he is summoned by the dread trumpet of the angel Issrape, from the quiet grave, at the last day of judgment, will to thy eyes assume a form and a magnitude too terrific and vast for thee to behold! The space between earth and sky will be too narrow to contain the embodiment of thy persecutions, thy infernal treachery, and thy murders, The spectre of thy guilt will wave one of its hands over the Nile and the Arabian deserts, and the other will reach to the desolated lands beyond the Danube! As thou sinkest

to the burning pit of Ajehennem, its thousand-tongued voice shall proclaim thy iniquities, and shout at thy eternal perdition! For this day's work, again I curse, and curse thee!'

"With these words, with this horrid imprecation on his lips, the gigantic janissary fell to the earth, like a column from its base, and expired."-Vol. iii. p. 164–70.

Worn out at last by the persecution of her relations, Veronica consents to fly with her lover. By dexterous management, she eludes their vigilance; and while they are searching the house from top to bottom, she in a light caique is cutting through the Bosphorus to the house of Ghika, where a priest is waiting for her. The lovers are wedded, but the money and intrigues of the Armenians After fruitless attempts prevail to tear them asunder. to gain his bride, Ghika is banished from Constantinople, and soon after dies of the plague in Wallachia ;-of Veronica, who is sent to a convent in Asia Minor, nothing more is told.

The only fault we have to find with this book, is one which we have already indicated. In his desire to present us with an accurate picture of that very extraordinary people from whom the work takes its name, Mr Macfarlane has dwelt upon those minutiæ of dress, ceremonies, ritual, and superstitious belief, with a minuteness and detail which makes them unduly, and sometimes even tiresomely, prominent. In all other respects, the tale is excellent. It has sufficient perplexity to lead us anxiously on, without being so ravelled as to suggest to us a feeling of improbability. In this point of view, it much resembles some of the best tales in the Arabian Nights; which it likewise resembles in its strange yet attractive mixture of the gorgeous and the grotesque. There breathes throughout it, however, a refined and chivalrous feeling of love, which we would seek for in vain in the Arabian Nights, and altogether a more elevated spirit and a warmer feeling of humanity. The principal characters are graphically delineated, and the magnificent background-the monotonous grandeur of the Ottoman court, the destruction of the janissaries, and the commotions in Greecepreciate our respect for his talents, when we say he has set them off to the best advantage. The author will apdone more than any man to complete the picture of the East, dashed off by the bold pencil of Thomas Hope, who has expressed, we have reason to know, the very highest opinion of Mr Macfarlane's work.

Flora and Pomona; or the British Fruit and Flower Garden; containing Descriptions of the most valuable and interesting Flowers and Fruits cultivated in the Gardens of Great Britain, with Figures drawn and coloured from Nature. Accompanied by an Analysis of their Botanical and Pomonological Character, their Nature and Mode of Culture; including a Definition of the Technical Terms used in the Science of Botany, with Familiar Instructions for the Drawing and Colouring of their Fruits and Flowers. By Charles M'Intosh, C. M. C. H. S., Head Gardener to his Royal Highness Prince Leopold at Claremont; and author of the "Practical Gardener, and Modern Horticulturist." London. Printed for Thomas Kelly, 17, Paternoster Row. 1829-30. Nos. 1-5. 4to.

title-page, and advise him, if he would have us do justice We are fairly out of breath with Mr M'Intosh's long to his next publication, to bring this portion of his work within such limits, that, after transcribing it, there may be room left in our columns for a few remarks of our own. A title-page need not be a prospectus. This grievance out of the way, we are happy to be able to state,

that this is one of the best books of its kind we have seen,

and ought to find a place on the table of every amateur of gardening. The letter-press, furnished by the author of the "Practical Gardener," is at once full of information, and calculated for those who are not versed in sci

entific botany. The plates are most correctly and tastefully executed. The Courtpendu Apple, in Part 4, is absolutely coloured to a deception; and the French Mignonne Peach is rich, soft, and luscious to the eye. The Alexander Apple, and the Cactus Jenkinsonia, are also finely executed. Indeed, the only thing approaching to a failure which we have yet seen in this department, is the Calceolaria Corymbosa in the first Number. The directions for colouring fruits and flowers, a new feature in a work of this kind, are simple and useful.

Cases Decided in the Court of Session.

Reported by

Patrick Shaw, Alexander Dunlop, and J. M. Bell, Esquires, Advocates. Edinburgh. William Blackwood. Volume VIII. Parts 1-5. 8vo.

cuts, is quite a pleasure to look upon; and we are glad to say that its more substantial contents will be found exceedingly instructive and useful. It contains an historical and topographical account of all the principal cities and towns in England, Scotland, Ireland, the Netherlands, France, and Spain; and the subject is to be conThe plan is good, and, so far tinued in future volumes.

as it has gone, has been most creditably executed.

A Selection of Celtic Melodies, consisting of Original Slow Highland Airs, Pipe-Reels, and Cainntearachd. Never before Published. Selected and arranged by a High. lander. Edinburgh. Robert Purdie. 1830. Pp. 23. ALL these melodies (thirty-five in number) are well worthy of collection and preservation. Rude and simple THIS publication, originally possessing considerable merit though they be, they bear a national and strongly markand utility, has begun, of late, to show strong symptoms ed character. In some instances they are full of a deep of a book-making tendency. The cases are reported with pathos, and in others of a wild and boisterous merriment; a degree of unnecessary detail;-sometimes cases are re-but still they are all intensely Highland, and by Highported which are of no earthly importance, and sometimes landers, or persons possessing Highland associations, canWe are, on the they are reported in such a manner, that no one can make not fail to be considered a treasure. out what the point decided is, (vide the case of Guthrie whole, disposed to like those most which are marked as v. Ogilvie, p. 435.) Without insisting at present on the having been arranged by Finlay Dun; but some of the propriety of more condensed and accurate reports, we others are highly interesting also, and the Editor certaincannot help observing, that the high price of the work is ly deserves well of his musical friends. We should have a positive injury to the profession at large. The Pro- been glad had he prefixed a short account of some of the curators before the Sheriff Court, in a flourishing city in more remarkable airs; and a few notes scattered through the west, possessed an excellent law library, for which, the work would have given it an additional value. as none of them were much addicted to study, they were rather at a loss to find a use. At last some of them stumbled upon the magnificent conception of lending out the volumes to the neighbouring lairds. The consequence of this manœuvre was, that in a short time you could not find a landed proprietor in the country-side who had less than three lawsuits. Now, if the gentlemen who publish these Reports would attend to the moral of our On the border of a little placid-looking lake, in the tale, and bring out their work at such a price that an beautiful and picturesque country of Norway, lived a agent might be able to present it as a Christmas gift to young fisherman, called Uric, who, being of a covetous his friends in the country, the advantage to the profession and grasping disposition, grumbled incessantly at the small would be incalculable. Instead of diminishing the num-profit which accrued from his craft, and longed for riches ber of our judges, government would find it necessary to double them-chapels of ease would require to be erected in every sheriffdom, and, doubtless, every lawyer would gladly pay a per centage from his additional profits to those learned Editors to whom he owed them.

A Picture of Stirling. A Series of Eight Views, drawn by Andrew T. Masson; engraved by John Gellatly. With Historical and Descriptive Notices by Robert Chambers. Stirling. John Hewit. 1830. 4to. Pp. 52. THIS is a work of much merit. Although the artists who furnish the pictorial part are hitherto but little known, they have both executed their tasks with taste and skill. The views are well drawn, and picturesque points have been chosen; and the engraving is highly satisfactory in its general effects, and clear in its separate details. The letter-press by "the ingenious Mr Chambers," as Sir Walter Scott calls him, is full of interesting matter. Altogether, the work is worthy of the fine old city it undertakes to illustrate, hallowed as it is, in the heart of every Scotsman, by a thousand patriotic associations.

MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE.

THE WOOD DEMON.-A LEGEND OF NORWAY.

By one of the Authors of the "Odd Volume,"
"Tales and Legends," &c.

with an intensity which was not only criminal in itself, but which the wisest and most reflecting of his neighbours prophesied would lead to sin and misery.

Uric, however, was not without defenders, amongst the foremost of whom was Paul Marken, the father of a beautiful maiden, for whose hand many lovers fiercely contended, all whose hopes were crushed by the declaration of Paul that he had chosen Uric for his son-in-law. This determination carried sorrow into many hearts; but it overwhelmed Oluf, the handsome young woodsman, with consternation and despair; for he loved the fair maiden with a passionate love, and he knew that he alone was the possessor of her pure and guileless heart. This, however, availed nothing: Paul Marken, having once formed a resolution, resisted as firmly all entreaties to change, as the Naze does the thousand waves that break in fury on its rocky breast. misery: Oluf's grief was loud and vehement: Margaret bent in silence to her stern father's will, and meekly submitted to the fate she could not avert the ceremony of the Festerol, or Betrothing, was performed, and hope

fled.

The lovers were in

Uric, meanwhile, cared little for the prize that was almost within his grasp his sordid soul was incapable of feeling a true affection: he loved nothing but wealth, Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopædia.-The Cities and Princi-—gold, gold, gold, was his constant cry—and it was lispal Towns of the World. Vol. I. man, Rees, Orme, and Co. Pp. 326.

London. Long

DR LARDNER'S publication is certainly the bandsomest, in point of external appearance, of all the works which come out in monthly volumes. The book now before us, embellished, as it is, with vignettes and numerous wood

tened to.

As he sauntered gloomily one evening amongst the tall pines which stretched down to the edge of the lake, he suddenly heard a strain of music which seemed to come from the heart of the forest. There was something thrilling and unearthly in the notes, yet Uric listened for a few moments without having any suspicion as to who

was the performer, till, on endeavouring to retrace his steps and return home, he found himself irresistibly impelled to follow the sound of the music. On making this discovery a cold shiver came over him, and his teeth chattered in his head; he attempted to turn and fly, but in vain; his limbs, so far from obeying him, their lawful master, bore him deeper and deeper into the pine forest, till he found himself almost at the side of the musician, whose strains, when heard, drew every living thing around him.

The Wood Demon was seated on the trunk of a fallen tree, playing with all his might to the beasts of the forest, which were dancing furiously to the sound of the music: the bear, having just made his luncheon off a fat sheep, plunged clumsily about; the deer bounded joyously; the wolves performed a rigadoon; the foxes doubled and doubled, and crossing each other under the very nose of the bear, put him sadly out of the step; squirrels leaped from tree to tree; and the great white owl hopped among the branches. Meanwhile the Demon, being obliged to mind his hits, said nothing, but cast a glance on Uric, who immediately felt a strange kind of tingling in his limbs, which in spite of himself cut the most extravagant capers, and carried him into the very midst of the dancers. The Demon played louder and louder, and faster and faster; the bear danced dos-à-dos with Uric; the wolves pirouetted with him, and set at the corners; while the foxes took hands round and back again, brushing the trees with their long tails. This scene proved too much for the gravity of the Demon, who laughed till the very woods rung again. As soon as the music stopped, so did the dancers; the bear sucked his paws, and went off to take his siesta; the deer ran to cool themselves in the stream; the wolves withdrew to their dens; the foxes to their holes; the squirrels disappeared amongst the branches; and the white owl, tired of all this racketing, fell fast asleep.

Uric and the Demon were now alone. Uric would fain have made his escape, but as the thought rose in his mind, it seemed to him that the pine trees grew taller aud taller, and thicker and thicker, and that they thrust out their branches and drew closer together to bar his egress.

"Good morrow, Uric," said the Demon; "I have long foreseen that we should become acquainted; pray, sit down till I'm at leisure to have a little chat with you." The Demon hitched himself to one end of the fallen tree, and Uric seated himself at the very extremity of the rustic couch. "Excuse me for a few moments," said the polite Demon; "I have a little business to transact, after which I shall be at your service." Uric, too much terrified to reply, preserved a profound silence. The Demon then proceeded to untie the mouth of a large sack that lay at his feet, and poured out on the snow a vast quantity of gold pieces. These the Demon immediately began to count over and replace in the sack. Uric's eyes greedily devoured the sparkling treasure; he gradually drew nearer and nearer, till at length by the time that the half of the pile of gold was counted and returned to the sack, Uric was rubbing elbows with his new friend. "I fear," said the well-bred Demon, "that you may think me deficient in the attentions due to a guest; but perhaps you will have the goodness to pardon my pursuing my present occupation, as it is connected with a love affair. In fact, my worthy friend," continued the Demon, looking modestly on the ground, "I mean to change my condition, and this gold is intended as a reward for the person who may help me to obtain a bride."-" Hah!" exclaimed the fisherman," What, all that gold ?"- "Poh!" returned the Demon," this is nothing; I would double it, ay, quadruple it, on obtaining my wishes."-" Have you any particular girl in view?" asked Uric. "Why, to be frank with you," replied the Demon," I have made a choice. You must know," he continued, in a confidential tone," that I have found the darkness of my com

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plexion attended with many disadvantages; in fact, there seems to be a most unreasonable prejudice against it for myself, I don't think it unbecoming: do you?" This ques tion rather discomposed the fisherman; but quickly recovering himself, he declared, upon his honour, that he thought his friend had a most expressive countenance, and that the darkness of his complexion gave him a travelled look that was quite engaging. "Oh! you flatter," answered the Demon with a low bow; "but as, unhappily, every one has not your refined taste, I am anxious to form such an alliance as will ensure a fairer exterior to my children; for a person of your judgment must acknowledge, that it is the duty of every parent to study the benefit of his children." The fisherman politely assented, and praised the forethought and consideration of his new friend to the skies. "Let us wave compliments," re-. plied the Demon, "and proceed to business. Will you help me to overcome the foolish reluctance to share my lot, which every young girl has shown to whom I have attempted to play the agreeable?" To this proposal Uric gave an immediate consent, declaring he thought they ought not to be indulged in such a foolish prejudice. "I see you are a sensible man, Uric," returned the Demon, SO I will come to the point at once the girl whom I have chosen is Margaret, the daughter of Paul Marken, who lives on the other side of the lake.”—“ Oh! you have chosen Margaret, have you?" said the fisherman, taking off his tufted cap and scratching his head. "Yes, I have chosen Margaret," retorted the Demon sharply; "have you any objections ?"-" Why, to tell you the truth," answered the fisherman, "I was intending to marry Margaret myself; so that if any other girl would do as well"—" Any other girl will not do as well," interrupted the Demon in a rage; " and I think it is extremely selfish in you to thwart my wishes, when you know how much I have the good of my family at heart; but this is just the way of the world: one cannot propose doing a good action, but some impertinent puppy must interfere with his objections and advice. This is all the thanks I get for my condescension in asking your assistance; but let me tell you, sir, I will woo your bride, marry your bride, ay, and bring home your bride, in spite of your teeth; and I will keep my gold for those who have a little more sense in their noddles ;" and the Demon, in a huff, began to shovel the gold back into the sack. " Don't be so hasty," said the fisherman; "I have considered better of the matter, and as you say that you are resolved to have Margaret, whether I will or not, I don't see there will be any great harm in giving you my assistance."-" None in the world," replied the Demon, coming out of his pet; " on the contrary, you will be doing her an infinite service in making her my bride. She shall be Queen of the pine tree: when she wants music, the birds will sing to her should she feel inclined to dance, you can bear witness that she will have great choice of partners: the trees of the wood shall bend their heads to do her homage: she will reign over me," continued the Demon, with a gallant air; "and what more could a reasonable woman desire?"-" Why, truly," answered the fisherman," you have placed the affair in quite another light; and since you assure me she will be happy"

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"Sir," interrupted the Demon, laying his hand upon his breast with a solemn air, "be assured that it shall be the business of my life to make her happy."—" Since that is the case," replied the fisherman, "it would certainly be selfish in me to stand in the way of her advancement. When would you wish the marriage to take place?”

“Immediately,” answered the Demon; "but as wcmen are sometimes unreasonable, as you, my friend, may have observed, and require to be surprised into measures intended solely for their good, it may be necessary to use a little harmless deceit to bring her hither."-" Let me alone for that," replied the fisherman; "and now let us settle about the reward: was it four sacks of gold, or five, that you promised ?"—" Oh!" answered the Demon,

"that was when I thought you a common kind of fellow; but, now that I see you are a man after my own heart," (the fisherman acknowledged the compliment by a low bow,) “I have a much higher reward in store for you. Go, now, and bring Margaret hither; you will afterwards return to your boat, and, by the time you have rowed to the middle of the lake, you will find her laden with gold." "May I trust you?" asked the fisherman. "On the honour of a Demon, you may."

There was no disputing this: the fisherman ran down to the edge of the lake, leapt into his boat, rowed it swiftly across, and, hastening to the dwelling of the fair maiden, rushed in with such an appearance of consternation, as caused Margaret to drop the frying-pan, in which she was preparing a cherry pancake for her father's supper. "Ah! dear Margaret," said the fisherman, with a sorrowful air, "I fear your worthy father will never eat a pancake again in this world."-" For Heaven's sake," said Margaret, trembling with affright, "what has happened?""Don't be alarmed, my love," replied the fisherman; "you may perhaps be in time to receive his last blessing, if he does not bleed to death before you reach him."-" He is hurt, then?" said Margaret, pale with terror; "where is he?"" In the pine forest: while felling a tree, his axe glanced aside, and almost cut his leg off. I left him my handkerchief to help to stanch the blood, and hastened here for assistance."

Margaret waited to hear no more, but hurried to the edge of the lake, followed by Uric. They stepped into the boat, and the tender-hearted Margaret, pleased with his deep anxiety to reach quickly the other side of the lake, almost forgot to hate him. Their little voyage accomplished, Uric moored his boat under a rocky cliff, and, calling on Margaret to follow him, plunged into the forest. At every step that Margaret took, the scene became more and more dark and gloomy. Not a breath of air was felt; the trees stood immovable; not a leaf rustled; no birds chirped; not an insect was on the wing —every thing seemed dead. There was something in this unnatural silence which froze Margaret's blood, and she endeavoured to join Uric, who, however, having reasons of his own for avoiding conversation, kept considerably in advance, till he drew near the appointed spot. He then paused till joined by his panting and breathless companion. "Oh! Uric," said Margaret, bursting into tears, "what a long way we have come! I fear-I fear my poor father will be dead before we reach him!”—“ I am sure he cannot be far off," answered the fisherman; "but walk gently on for a few moments, till I examine if this is the right track."

While Uric was engaged in the amiable employment of trepanning his bride into the clutches of the Wood Demon, it so chanced that, on the same evening, Oluf roamed through the pine forest, bemoaning his hard fate, and, as he frequently cast up his eyes reproachfully to heaven, he could give but scanty attention to his steps, the natural consequence of which was, that he stumbled and fell over some substance that lay, most provokingly, right in his

way.

66

"Hillo! friend Oluf, can't you look before you," said the Demon, in a huff; "do you see that you have shaken half the gold out of the sack?"- "I beg your pardon," said Oluf, mildly; "but I did not see.""Don't bother me with your excuses," answered the Demon; 'but get down on your knees, and stuff the gold into the bag, for my back is almost broken with stooping already." Oluf obeyed; but his thoughts were so full of grief, that he could not suppress some heavy sighs. "What is all this puffing about?" asked the Demon, as he sat quite at his ease on a block of wood. "I am a very unhappy man," replied Oluf, sorrowfully; "but I shall willingly tell you my story, and, as your good-nature is universally known, I"- "How dare you call me good-natured, fellow?" said the Demon, angrily; "it is the very worst character a man can have: a good-natured man is imposed on by his friends, and scouted by his enemies-But

enough; get on with your story, and cram it into as few words as possible."-" It is soon told," answered Oluf; "I love a beautiful girl, and she is about to be married to another."" Is that all?" replied the Demon composedly; "such little accidents happen every day. And so you love Margaret, do you?"-" How do you know her name is Margaret?" asked Oluf, looking up in surprise. "How do I know her name is Margaret!" retorted the Demon, sharply; "you may ask that, truly, when there is scarcely a tree in my forest that is not scribbled over with her name; but you might have spared yourself the trouble, for she is engaged."-"I know that,” replied Oluf; "and I am ready to die with grief when I think she is to be sacrificed to such an odious wretch."-" Keep a better tongue in your head, Master Oluf," said the Demon, tartly, "or it will be the worse for you !”—“ I wonder that you can stand up for him," answered Oluf. "I have my own reasons for standing up for him," replied the Demon. "I never heard any one speak a good word for Uric," said Oluf. “I am not speaking of Uric," answered the travelled-looking gentleman; “ for, to make a long story short, I want a wife, and I have promised Uric as much gold for her as will make him the richest man in the province, and he is to bring her here directly. I wish, however, to have your consent to the marriage: it is a whim, no doubt, to care about having your approbation; but even great minds are not without their weaknesses.”—“I will never consent to it," exclaimed Oluf, starting up in a fury; "and Uric is an execrable villain for agreeing to such a proposal !”—“ "Tis of no use talking, Oluf," said the Demon; "I have taken a fancy to the girl, and my wife she must be. You have yourself to thank for this; for it is ten to one if I ever would have thought of her, if I had not heard you eternally babbling about her. Come now, be reasonable; give your consent to the match, and I will make over to you that bagful of gold."—" I will not sell Margaret for all the gold in the world," answered Oluf, giving the sack such a hearty kick, as to make it disgorge great part of its contents; "and I will defend her to the last drop of my blood."—" So you will not let me marry Margaret?” said the Demon. "I will not," replied the young woodsman. "And you won't have my gold?”—“ I spurn it!” he answered proudly.

At this point of the conference, Margaret and Uric were seen approaching, and Uric's eyes brightened as he saw the Demon peeping at Margaret through the pine branches, The fisherman gave a significant nod, put his finger on the side of his nose, turned upon his heel, and, as he hastened down to the lake, the Demon watched his retreat with a grim smile.

"You are not a bad fellow, after all, Oluf," said the dark-complexioned gentleman to the young woodsman; "you have stood the test not amiss on the whole, and I rather like you. Go and kiss Margaret for me; and tell her that there is one man left in the world who will not sacrifice love to gold. Now take the sack on your back; I make you a present of its stuffing; carry Margaret with you to the lake, and see how I keep my promise to the covetous fisherman.-Good by." The friendly Demon disappeared; Oluf gathered up the gold, kissed his Margaret, and hurried her down to the lake in time to see Uric leap into his boat, which he rowed away with all his might.

No sooner was Uric's foot off the land, than the chain that held every thing silent seemed removed. The wind howled through the pine tree tops; the weeping willows tossed their long arms about, as if menacing the recreant lover; the cock of the wood rose proudly on the wing; the eagle hovered over her eyry; and the white owl, awakened from her nap, hooted loudly the perjured fisherman.

Uric, meanwhile, rowed swiftly on; and as he drew near the centre of the lake, he found it tasked his utmost strength to impel his skiff. The moon at this moment emerged from the dense mass of clouds that had obscured

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