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maidenly. She could not bear to think of it all. It made her feel too ashamed. Even to Sophy poor Sylvia had never summoned up courage to confess the whole of that morning's history. Only when other people came, the Count, the Captain, some instinct made her shrink from their advances. No one spoke as he had done. They proposed to the Colonel, they proposed to her mother, but their words did not touch her heart when repeated. She did not love Rickets-how could she love so ugly a little man? - but she liked to think of his love for her. It gave her courage, when she was frightened, to remember that one person did not despise her.

the steep mountain side, gathering mint and wild laurel to flavor his dishes; a woman was whisking salad in a wire basket; a poor little chamois was hanging up by its heels; the chief, in his white robes, was directing, beating time with a long wooden spoon to the concert. The earth seemed to have opened suddenly, and all these people to have sprung into existence. While Sylvia stood staring, surprised, old Christine's donkey, with some traveller's luggage on its back, came toiling up the steep path, followed by the old woman, who carried a great branch of pine, to brush the flies off the donkey's back, and who smiled a greeting to the pretty lady in the white hat and blue tippet. She no longer feared her father's impa- "What is going on?" asked Sylvia. tience as she had once done, she respected They are cooking the breakfast for herself more, little by little new under- the diligence," said old Christine. "It standings and gifts had come to her. All has just come in," and she pointed to the this time she pondered on it all, and then luggage. "L'Anglais has come," she said, she told herself it was a dream! It was a consoling dream, and one which helped her in many waking hours. And now had he written! It was no fancy. Here was a letter directed to her in a bold handwriting that she knew, though she had never seen it before. She did not dare open it. She would take it, she thought, to the carpenter's hut; perhaps there she might be able to find courage to read what he had said.

When Sylvia reached the hut, she found a great hammering and sawing going on, and shavings flying, and a carpenter and a carpenter's boy shouting to one another, and a dog barking. It was impossible to remain there or to think of reading her letter; and, somewhat disappointed, she passed on, following the little winding path that leads to the Établissement, by a leisurely down-hill zig-zag. Sylvia followed the road quietly; she knew her way by this time and was in no fear of losing it. But at a turn of the road, passing among the shady green avenues, she stopped surprised by sudden loud voices and clatterings at her feet, by fragrant steams of cooking rising from below and coming from behind a thick clump of pinetrees.

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nodding slyly. "Eh, who knows — it is, perhaps, a wedding feast that they are preparing? I have good eyes, though I am so old and laborious. I saw you last year by the carpenter's hut. He gave me five francs when he went away. He is generous, and not so ugly as some," and Christine went on her way, nodding her trembling head and smiling still.

Poor Sylvia stood aghast. What had she heard? What was this? Was this the talk of these gossiping old women? It was unbearable. It was horrible! She put her hand over her eyes in a sort of dismay and despair. What was she to do? Where should she hide herself. She had but little time to hide or to collect her thoughts, for in another moment there stood the owner of the portmanteau, right in the path before her, looking browner, happier, all dressed in white linen, but otherwise unchanged. He stopped short, his whole face lightened.

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Is that you? ເ ? Did you come? Did you indeed remember?

he cried. "Mr. Rickets!" Sylvia faltered, and then began to blush deeper and deeper beneath her white hat. She would have turned and fled, as was her habit, but her strength failed, and she could not escape. "Why do you come," she cried. "Go, go," and she desperately wrung her hands.

Sylvia advanced a few steps further, and she found she had come to a place that looked straight down from a height into the back court of the Établissement, where He looked frightened, as well he might. the kitchens are built. The fires were "What does this mean," he asked anxiousburning; the cooks were running back-ly. "Sylvia, have you forgotten everywards and forwards and calling to one an- thing, your promise this day last year? other; constellations of saucepans were I have travelled a thousand miles to find gleaming through the open doors and win- you and is this all?" dows; a little cook-boy was climbing up

"You cannot call that a promise," Sylie

cried, more and more agitated and beside herself. "Last year I was so young, so silly. This year I am older and wiser. You know it was no real promise!"

in his travel-stained garments. He had written her a letter from Geneva. She held it still in her hand, but she had no need to read it now, and indeed she keeps Rickets turned very pale. “Of course it still unopened and treasured away. not if you wish it broken. Of course you It was like their last walk, only infiniteare free," said he in a low voice. "Lastly-a whole year and a whole future night, when I walked up through the lifetime- - happier. storm, and heard you were come, I thought -I hoped. Now, I understand," he said; and turned paler and paler. "I was a fool to think that one woman beyond all women might value something more than outward looks. Yes, you are right to send me away, to say, 'Go, you ugly misshapen wretch. How dare you think of love? You monster, it is your doom to be despised it is your fate. How dare you complain?""

Once when a shower fell they stood up under a tree. How fresh it was beneath its shelter! The plums hung upon the branches; the scent came fresh through the golden rain; the wheat-fields lay yellow on the mountain-side; the potato-fields close at hand were in flower; the châlets of the village stood dotted here and there among the confortable hayricks and beanfields. Here came a patch of flax; farther off some bright green crop was sliding to the valley. The little Noah's-ark-like men and women were at work here and there

"Oh!" said Sylvia, greatly shocked, "It is not that, indeed it is not that." As she spoke she looked at him, stead-upon the hills; the distant sounds of the fastly and pitifully; and as she looked the light came into his face again; for a moment he had been overwhelmed; his strength and courage came back.

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"Sylvia," he said passionately, "you are too wise to trifle with such love as mine. I have at least taught you that. Don't keep me in suspense. . . . . No, that was no promise-but will you promise ?" Then, with an odd half-smile he said: "If you could love me enough, you would not think me so very ugly."

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But I don't," faltered Sylvia, and while she was speaking still she saw a bright transfigured face before her, and kind eyes full of love and protection looking into hers.

Suddenly, she knew not how, she had surrendered. There are times when time is nothing, when feeling outruns time and seasons as they flow, as people need but an instant to live or to die; as the first beam of light reveals the hidden treasures of the secret chamber; suddenly the light had shone into Sylvia's kind heart and shewn her the treasures hidden there, and told her that she returned the love that had been hers from the first.

They went home to breakfast and to tell their news; but the Colonel had read Rickets' formal letter of proposal for his daughter's hand, and was not anxious because Sylvia delayed.

Rickets told his betrothed he had walked over from Geneva the night before. It was he who arrived in the storm. He could not wait, he said, for the diligence in the morning. The diligence brought his portmanteau, which he had been down to fetch, for he would not present himself

flail reached their ears. It was a saint'sday; but winds and clouds know no saintdays, nor does Nature herself, except days such as this, when human hearts dream of the divine in life.

Sylvie stood under the plum-tree, admiring, as Tom bade her. Everything seemed illuminated-his kind face, her waving hair, her white dress, every blade of grass, every insect as it floated by, the plums, the tangle of branches and leaves

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[The following paper derives additional interest from being the substance of one of an official series of lectures delivered shortly after the return of the second German Arctic Expedition, by the officers of the two ships, and the scientific gentlemen who accompanied them. Although this occurred at a time when the eyes of Europe were turned in anxious suspense on the mighty events which were happening in her midst, so much attention has already been drawn in this country to the brilliant discoveries of Koldewey, and the thrilling adventures of Hegemann and his brave companions, who, when forced to abandon their ill-fated Hansa, made in safety a voyage of 200 days and 1,000 miles on a continually diminishing ice-raft, that it is almost unnecessary to enter into any details with re

gard to the circumstances which brought ground could possibly be bare so early as under Dr. Pansch's notice the remarkable June, and continue so for such a length of phenomena described below. Suffice it to say time, our sojourn there has furnished us that the writer was the naturalist attached to with an explanation as interesting as it is the steamer Germania, which left Bremer- satisfactory. Nearly all the snow in that hafen in the summer of 1869, and succeeded region falls during violent storms, and these have almost always one and the in reaching the Pendulum Islands on the east coast of Greenland in the early autumn; that same direction, viz. towards the north. On this account the snow does not cover numerous meteorological, tidal, and magnetic observations of considerable importance were made during the winter; and that the valuable additions contributed by sledge excursions to our knowledge of the coast line as far north as lat. 77° were crowned, when the ice broke up, by the discovery, between Cape Franklin and Cape Parry, in lat. 73° 12′, of a stupendous fiord, branching far into the interior, and combining with lofty mountainranges and majestic glaciers to produce scenery of well-nigh unrivalled magnificence. For full information as to the gains accruing to Science from this Expedition, the reader must be referred to the reports which will, we understand, be shortly published in extenso in Germany.]

PEOPLE have hitherto been too ready to conclude that the Arctic regions are buried, even through the summer, beneath a covering of snow, and to picture to themselves a steep, bare crag, or peak, towering here and there above this eternal whiteness; or, perhaps, in the height of summer, a few isolated spots free from snow, and affording space for the growth of a scanty vegetation called forth by specially favourable circumstances.

the ground evenly, but is, for the most part, collected in drifts of various sizes, according to the local formation of the ground. In the same manner, even what falls in a still atmosphere is tossed up and scattered by subsequent winds, so that in every gale we suffered from a heavy drifting of the snow; and how thoroughly the wind sweeps the ground may be concluded from the fact that a considerable amount of earth, sand, and stones is carried with the snow through the air to such a distance, that after one of these storms the miles around. In this way, the otherwise ice becomes of a dirty brown colour, for singular fact is explained, that we really only once saw a totally white landscape (it was at the end of June), and even this completely disappeared in the course of a few days. Indeed, there are many places, such as steep declivities and open plains, which remain free from snow nearly all the winter; the rest of the country is covered by snow from one to three inches thick; and drifts on every scale from the largest to the smallest are found scattered in every direction. As the snow melts from our roofs in the spring, and they become heated by the sun long before the temperature of the air is correspondingly raised, so it is in that mountainous country in a still higher degree. Favoured by the generally clear and dry air, the snow disappears as early as April; after which, with the interruption of an occasional snow-fall, the dark rocky soil proceeds, in a most surprising manner, to absorb the heat that incessantly streams from the now unsetting sun. While the temperature of the air had, till the end of May, been continually below the freezing-point, We, too, reached the coast of East the ground at the same time, at a depth Greenland under the same impression - of a few centimètres, had already risen the more so, as a stream of ice, and with it several degrees above it. In our latitudes one of cold water, flows continually along the ground cools down every night, and the coast. But what did we find? A stones become perceptibly cokl even at country in the main completely free from midsummer, so that the moisture of the snow, and that not only in the height of air falls upon them as dew; in these parts summer, but during three whole months. of the Arctic regions there is only a triIt will of course be understood that accu- fling nocturnal cooling in the height of mulations of frozen snow and ice must al- sumner; dew is almost as unknown to the ways remain on the slopes and in the Esquimaux as snow to the inhabitants of ravines. And if it is asked, how the the tropics. In the course of the summer,

This idea, however exaggerated in many minds, is partially justified by the experience of travellers in some Arctic districts. As these countries are situated in a high latitude, constantly shrouded in mists, and only favoured by rare and feeble sunshine, there is not sufficient warmth to melt the mass of a winter's snow, often increased as it is during summer by renewed falls, more especially as the thawing coast-ice renders latent so great an amount of heat.

rapid results, but their lack of power is amply compensated by the exhaustive use of all existing advantages. Thus it is that the summer heat of East Greenland, though beginning slowly, yet steadily continuing, increasing and sometimes even becoming intense, renders it possible, during the short time in which the ground remains unfrozen, for a rich and vigorous vegetation to be developed. Thus it is that some plants send long tap-roots deep into the soil; that they all ripen their seed; that some attain the height of many inches above ground; that the leaves are large and vigorous, and the colours of the blossoms bright and beautiful.

the heating of the ground is, indeed, somewhat moderated, as the sun is often hid by mists and clouds; but, to make up for this, the radiation from the ground is checked also. It thaws, according to circumstances, to a depth of from 12 to 18 inches, and possesses a temperature very well adapted to stimulate energetically the growth of the roots of existing plants. A considerable degree of warmth, too, must, even in a cold atmosphere, reach the parts of plants above the surface, as well from the heat radiated by the ground as from the sun, which never sets, but shines in turn on every side. The heating of the ground is so considerable, that by day the ascending warm currents keep the air everywhere Here, too, the other essential condition in tremulous, undulating motion, so that it of all vegetation, moisture, makes its apis necessary to make all exact trigonomet-pearance in quite an unusual manner. rical measurements by night; and at times Most people imagine all the Arctic regions the eye discerns even the summits of the wrapped, during the summer, in perpetual highest mountains only in distorted images. This mass of warm ascending air naturally follows the slope of the mountains to their highest points, and instead of becoming cooled here, is further heated by the purer rays of the sun, which fall both more continuously and more directly. And since, moreover, the summits of the mountains rise above the densest fogs that shroud the land, it is readily understood that, if other circumstances be favourable, vegetation may exist to quite the same extent on the mountains (I speak only of those observed, from 1,000 to 3,000 feet in height), as in the plain, and that there is here really no line of highest vegetation. On the summits of the lower mountains we found the saxifrage, silene, dryas, and other plants, often in finer development than on the plain; and is it not a wonderful fact that, on a peak 7,000 feet high, in addition to beautiful lichens, moss several inches long is found growing in thick cushions!

There is a complete contrast between the whole method and operation of the Arctic summer, as well as of every single summer's day, and that with which we are familiar in the frozen regions of the Alps. In the latter there is a daily alternation between cold and heat, darkness and light, winter and summer; and on both sides the change is rapid and sudden, the several forces operating quickly, energetically, and with immediate result. In the north there is properly no cycle of twenty-four hours; the day is not divided into light and darkness, heat and cold, but each of these opposite conditions holds its sway during a whole season; they do not advance with consciousness of victory and

mist, not unfrequently varied by snow and rain. During the summer of East Greenland there is scarcely any precipitation of moisture from the air, but plants live almost entirely on that which they derive from the ground. It is not, of course, the rich and luxuriant cushions of moss, which grow on the banks of the merrily-rippling stream, that one must expect to find here; these are seen but rarely. But we find large tracts uniformly watered and saturated with moisture from the melting of a slope of snow; for since the lower stratum of the ground is frozen, the water cannot penetrate it and run off below, but percolates down the whole slope through the uppermost stratum to the shore. To pass such places, which are often miles in breadth, is one of the severest labours of spring and summer travelling, as one often sinks knee-deep in loamy mud. A multitude of plants, however, rejoice in this soil, so that we find them flourishing on these wet tracts in great profusion. On the other hand, where there are real riverbeds, the banks are generally barren; for, when the thaw commences, the water rushes along with such tremendous force as to carry down quantities of earth, plants, and stones.

It will be supposed that there must also be many places of greater elevation, which, not being within the reach of melting snow, must therefore be almost entirely devoid of moisture, and unable, through the great dryness of the air, to support the least vegetation. There are certainly many such places; but absolute sterility is exceedingly rare. We saw few spots where we did not meet, every two or three yards, with at least a few blades of grass,

a tiny patch of willow, or a little tuft of | bright, light-blue flowers. Clothed as they silene or lychnis. The appearance which are in such a very familiar dress, these these present is, to be sure, dismal enough. plants seem like strangers in their Arctic Scarcely, even in early spring, can we surroundings. And that peculiar colour of speak of green shoots; the grass puts the mountain slope is produced, as we find forth a dry and stunted blade and ear; in a to our astonishment, by very small but short time the three or four little leaves vigorous dwarf-birch, which, although it which every stalk of herb or shrub devel- grows but little every year, seems to thrive ops, become of a pale brown colour, like very well, as it has ripened both blossoms those of the previous year, which never and fruit. Close by stand bilberry-bushes, fall; the tufts produce their occasional bearing ripe and peculiarly sweet fruit, short-stalked blossoms, and their summer which is plucked and enjoyed with childis passed. Is it not marvellous that just like pleasure; and, lastly, the botanist is as the Arctic traveller, during his wander- enraptured at the discovery of some beauings, suffers from nothing more than from tiful Alpine roses, which have, alas! thirst, so we find vegetation here reduced already shed their blossoms. This rhodoto a minimum, not by cold and wet but by dendron brings him back at once to the drought and parching heat? It is these Alps; he even hears, in imagination, the circumstances, too, which impede the tinkling of the cow-bells and the herdsgrowth of lichens and moss to such an ex- man's call. tent that, even in this "kingdom of mosses Thus, then, is it possible for the vegetaand lichens," we had often to search for a ble world in East Greenland to expand long time before finding a locality answer- into unwonted beauty and to ripen its aning in any degree to this description; and nual blossoms and fruit: in winter receiv though many reindeer are found, the rein- ing from the snow its needful protection deer-moss is one of the rarest plants. I against the cruel frost, and in the short cannot, in these few words, draw anything summer subjected to the influence of a like a complete picture of the vegetation strong and constant light, and of a heat of the Pendulum Islands, as many and va-proceeding both from above and below. rious additional details would have to be In the midst of such luxuriant vegetable

taken into account.

But the mainland, exposed as it is to a more intense heat, produces a vegetation of considerably higher character. There, not only at the foot of the mountains, but also to a height of more than 1,000 feet up their slopes, are seen large tracts of uninterrupted green, affording pasture for herds of reindeer and cattle. In many places may be found the most beautiful close grass, which, as with us, is decked with the yellow flowers of the dandelion; the blades, adorned with clusters of ears, reach the height of from one to two feet; the bilberry grows side by side with the andromeda, and covers large tracts of ground, as on our own moory heaths. In the damp clefts of the rocks flourish the most delicate ferns, and the acid leaves of the sorrel grow to an unusual size; on the sunny slopes the dark blue campanula nods on its long stem, and we are attracted by the tender evergreen pyrola with its marble-white flowers. Among the rounded pebbles of the streams and sea shore the epilobium unfolds its large blossoms, which, with their magnificently bright red colour entice from afar even the most indifferent. Among the bare rocks the curious polemonium has settled in great profusion, and out of the feathery circle of odoriferous leaves rise the thick clusters of its large,

life, we were prepared for the presence of many herbivorous animals, and particularly of the reindeer and snow-white Arctic hare, which inhabit all parts of the icy north. On the rich and extensive pastures of the mainland we found large herds of the splendid reindeer, undisturbed and unaffrighted by bloodthirsty man. But there was another gregarious animal, quite as important and interesting, which we met there, and whose discovery in East Greenland was, curiously enough, reserved for our expedition. It was the Arctic ox, known as the "musk-ox" by the Franklin expeditions, with its low stature, long dark hair and heavy horns, immensely thick at the roots. Here, too, this strange animal lives in herds, gains access to its food in winter by scraping from it the thin covering of snow, and affords, as well as the reindeer and hare, an excellent and wholesome food for man. Lesser animals, also, live on plants; the little gray lemming digs for the smaller roots; and among the birds we saw geese feeding on the meadows, and the pretty ptarmigan eating the young shoots of the willows. But here, also, as throughout the realms of nature, these animals have their peculiar enemies. The ermine, which lives among the stones, and the ever-prowling fox, are ready to pounce upon them on

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