FRIBURG CATHEDRAL.

FROM THE AMERICAN IN EUROPE.

FRIBURG possesses a magnificent cathedral, [prayer, hearing the sound of horses' feet, looked the carving and ornaments of which are by some below, and beheld her father's troopers climbing supposed to surpass those even of Strasburg, the zig-zag path. She hastily rose to her feet, which at least speaks very highly in their favor. but, naked, tender, and bleeding, they refused to Certainly, if not so stately, it is extremely beau- bear her onward, and she fell exhausted to the tiful. From the terrace of a hermitage without ground. In her agony and alarm, horrified at the posthe town, a certainly splendid view is commanded, while the river which runs beneath, (and over sibility that she, who had intended to become the the valley of which, elegant suspension bridges bride of heaven, should be compelled to accept are thrown here and there,) give an air of pictu- the hand of an earthly lover, she prayed ferventrosque lightness to the whole, heightened by the ly for deliverance. The rock opened, and when sight of cattle grazing in the meadows, and again it closed, she had disappeared. Presently peasant maidens chatting together in the open she heard her father's voice, in his bereavement, calling upon her.

air.

The following tradition is told of the Grotto of St. Odille, which is in the immediate neighbor-thou gone to ?" hood of Friburg :

"My father," her voice replied, while he trem

Odille, daughter of the Duke of Alsace, hav-bled at hearing these familiar tones coming ing been brought up in a convent to the habits of from the mysterious shelter she had found a religious life, resolved to devote herself to hea--"My father, you persecute him who loves ven by taking the veil, and one day departed me." from her father's court for this purpose, leaving all the noble young knights, her suitors, in the greatest grief.

Among the number was a German prince, on whom her father, Duke Attich, had looked with favor, but to avoid whose suit she had set forth habited as a beggar, and thus passed the Rhine in a small boat. The Duke discovering this, in his anger and disappointment set out in pursuit; and, from the boatman's description, had no doubt but that he was on her track, and continued to follow with fresh energy.

Odille, climbing one of the forest mountains, had sat down to rest, and, while engaged in

"My child! my child!" he cried, "where art

MINE!

Recognizing in all this the will and influence of a superior power, Duke Attich swore to respect his daughter's vow, and promised to build The rock opened, and, arfor her a convent. rayed in garments of a heavenly brightness, Odille came forth, and fell upon his bosom.

From that day the rock remained open, a spring bubbled forth, a medicinal brunnen (profitable spec.) was established, and (English) pilgrims went to visit it, and to play cards there. If there is a moral in this good old story, let the reader discover it; for my part I didn't try.

FOR A GERMAN AIR.

O How my heart is beating as her name I keep
repeating,

And I drink up joy like wine;

O how my heart is beating as her name I keep

repeating,

In a music soft and fine;

She owns no lands, has no white hands-
Her lot is poor, her life obscure;

Yet how my heart is beating as her name I keep
repeating,

For the dearest girl is mine!

repeating,

TO MARY RUSSELL MITFORD.

For the lovely girl is mine!

She's rich, she's fair, beyond compare

The hay is carried; and the Hours
Snatch, as they pass, the linden-flow'rs;

Of noble mind, serene and kind;

O how my heart is beating as her name I keep And children leap to pluck a spray

repeating,

For the lovely girl is mine!

Bent earthward, and then run away.
Park-keeper! catch me those grave thieves
About whose frocks the fragrant leaves,

Chambers's Journal.

O how my heart is beating as her name I keep Sticking and fluttering here and there,
No false nor faltering witness bear.

I never view such scenes as these,

O how my heart is beating as her name I keep In grassy meadow girt with trees,
But comes a thought of her who now
Sits with serenely patient brow

repeating,

For the dearest girl is mine!

DXXXVIII.

LIVING AGE. VOL. VI. 31)