other burden, however, more heavy- Mrs. Pringle. "I believe he is a good the burden of shame for his father's un-young man; but perhaps it was a little warrantable assault, which, out of respect | rash to take him into your confidence. Go for his father, he could not openly dis- I think I heard your papa come in. own, but must share the disgrace of, and see if he is in the library. It might though he loathed the offence. I think be a comfort to him to know that Val is Sandy may be excused if he felt himself better. Go; and if you see an opportutoo cross, too wretched in his false posi-nity, tell him. Say I have had a letter; tion, to face the rest of the household, that is all that it is needful to say." and convey to them this startling news. Violet, though reluctant, obeyed; and They had, however, their news too, Mrs. Pringle read Dick's letter again, not scarcely less startling. It was the Mon- knowing what to make of it. What did day after the Saturday on which Val had he mean by signing himself "Richard"? passed the crisis of his fever, and Sun- by calling Val by his Christian name? day had been very trying to these two Her conclusion was, that this boatman, women in its entire cessation of news, as in whom Violet had so rashly put confiSunday so often is in cases of anxiety.dence, was presuming upon the girl's When Dick's letter at last came, there openness and innocence. Mrs. Pringle was something in it which they scarcely thanked heaven that her child "had the noticed in their first agitation of joy, but sense" to ask him to write to her mother, which, by dint of much reading, came out who was quite safe, and quite able to She very strongly at last to their puzzled per-manage any presuming person. ceptions. There was an indescribable could not make up her mind about this, indefinite change in their correspondent's feeling an uneasy consciousness in the style. But the reader shall judge for letter of something unexplained, somehimself what this was. thing more than met the eye, to which, however, she had no clue; but she resolved, at least, that this young man should have no further encouragement; that she would herself write to him, thanking him for his communication, and politely dropping him, as a woman of Mrs. Pringle's age and condition knows how to do. Perhaps it had been impru dent of Violet to refer to him at all; but it was an imprudence of which no further harm had come. She resumed her work, putting away the letter calmly enough, for the urgency was not great enough to call for any speedy action; while Violet went down-stairs to the library, somewhat tremulous, and afraid of the morose tones and look into

"DEAR MADAM,- I am happy to tell you that the crisis is over, and Valentine is decidedly better. Perhaps you are aware that all the family are here. He has recognized us all, and, though weak, will soon regain his strength, the doctor thinks. Other things have happened, of a very wonderful kind, which I can scarcely write about; but hope it may now be possible that I may one day see you, and explain everything to Miss Violet which she may wish to know. I do not like to run the risk of agitating Valentine by telling him that I am writing, but, if you will permit me, I will write again; and I hope you will always be so very kind as to think of me, whatever may be the change in circumstances, as yours and Miss Violet's obedient ser

vant,

"RICHARD."

half

which of late her father had fallen.

When she went in, he snatched up some of his papers, and pretended to be studying them very closely, the Courant "What does it mean?" said Mrs. lying at his side upon the writing-table; Pringle. "I am afraid the young man is but it was the law-papers, and not the taking too much upon himself. To sign Courant, which Mr. Pringle pretended himself just 'Richard' to you and me, is to read. Violet made a shy circle round a piece of presumption, Vi; and to call the table, not knowing if she might venLord Eskside's grandson Valentine'!ture to speak. Her courage failed her, I am not bigoted about rank, as you know; but this is too much."

66

Violet was confounded too. "Perhaps in nursing he has got familiar without knowing it," she said. Oh, mamma, you could not think he was presumptuous if you had seen Mr. Brown."

"That is all very well, my dear," said

until she suddenly remarked, underneath the shadow of the hand which supported his head, that her father was watching her, and that his face was very grey and pallid in the noonday light. This gave her resolution enough to conquer her timidity. She went up to him, and put her hand softly on his shoulder.

"Papa," she said, "I came to tell you that burden. She clasped her father that Valentine is better to-day. Mamma round the neck and whispered consolahas just had a lettertion. Papa, dear! you have nothing to do but to say this to them. Oh, what makes you think you don't know what to do? Say you were wrong, and that you are sorry. One is so certain that this must be the right thing."

certain of the workmen employed by the gov- I hear of a clattering of steel-shod hoofs, a ernment; and I at once conceived that a dis- panting of straining steeds, a grating of harshturbance had actually broken out, and that turning wheels. Something I seem to see of possibly a battle was even then in progress a face, grim-set, with a whistle in its mouth; between the infuriated labourers and the of a vast moving bulk, which was neither police. In vain, however having arrived house nor chariot, but a mingling of the breathless on the ground — did I look about essential parts of both, sweeping in majestic for the combatants. Nobody seemed to be grandeur round the iron curve. Something I fighting; no corpses were visible; there was seem to feel of a pride that was half awe, of not so much as a drunken man, or a woman in an exultation that was mostly fear, of a wonder a fit. Nevertheless, the crowd was manifestly that was all bewilderment. But I remember wrought up to a high pitch of excitement no more. When I came to myself, I found about something; and being too dull to divine that the tramway-car had halted a rod or two the cause, and too proud to inquire it, I re- beyond the turn, and was discharging its palesolved patiently to await the issue. By-and- faced passengers on the sidewalk. The driver by I noticed that the tramway-rails were laid was chatting with one of the policemen, round this corner; and then methought I quietly, as if nothing of special importance began to understand a little. had happened. The official on the corner had stepped into the neighbouring beer-saloon to whet his whistle. But I walked homeward, deep in thought. Come what might, at least I had lived to see a tramway-car.

The crowd was massed on the sidewalk, and was kept there by two policemen. Some distance beyond the curb, in the hollow of the arc described by the rails in turning the corner, stood a man in official costume, holding a whistle in his lips, upon which he played an irregular and very shrill tune. Occasionally he paused a moment to look down the street; then, turning to the crowd, gesticulated with a red flag in an agitated manner, and blew his whistle more sharply than before. After this had gone on for some time, and every heart was beating high with suspense, a distant rumbling noise was heard, like thunder, or still more like the rolling of the wheels of a tramway-car. Along with this sound another of a different description was audible a sharp, penetrating sound, closely resembling the whistle of a tramway-car-driver. It was answered by the man on the corner with a wild, ear-piercing peal. At the same moment a hoarse voice shouted, "Es kommt es kommt!"

The conviction forces itself upon me that tramway-cars are alive; that, in addition to the destructive qualities of ordinary steamengines, they are endowed with an appalling intelligence all their own, which drivers and guards may be able in some degree to inAuence, but not wholly to control. To have live engines rushing through our very streets and over our shop-doorsteps! Is it not tremendous, and really very alarming? But is it not also grand, and our own invention? The fact that for so many years we have been taught to regard anything in the shape of a railway as the most forbidden of forbidden ground may explain the consternation wherewith we behold the dreaded rails winding their iron way into our daily walks. Time will, perhaps, accustom us to the innovation, though hardly during the present generation.*

luxurious

Then began a tumult hard to describe. The cry was taken up and repeated. The crowd I may be permitted to add that the cars surged storm-like, those in front striving to appear exceptionally large to a foreign press back out of reach of danger, while those eye, and are further peculiar in being behind seemed madly bent on getting forward. provided with a second story, attainable All the time the rumbling grew louder and by means of a couple of elaborate spiral nearer, the whistling wilder and shriller, the gesticulations of the official on the corner with staircases, one at each end: a sufficiently the red flag more violent and unintelligible. arrangement, though perhaps a One poor fellow, the warring of whose emo-good steam-lift would be an improvetions had been too much for him, entirely ment. Inside they are very comfortable; forsook his senses at this juncture; and even and no one is allowed to stand up. They as wild animals, when driven mad by terror, do not run singly and at short intervals, are said to rush straight into the jaws of danger, did he, eluding the grasp of the now exhausted policeman, dash frantically across the track. Women shricked, strong men turned pale, and averted their eyes with a shudder. But a special providence guards the insane. The terrible tramway-car was still full thirty paces distant, and he gained the opposite side of the street in safety.

but in trains; two or three starting at the same time; and then a prolonged cessation. As for the men with red flags and whistles, who are stationed at short intervals all along the line, it is a question whether they are employed to summon the populace to behold the greatness and majesty of tramway-cars, or to warn them The next few moments comprise such a out of the way lest they be run over. sickening whirl of sights, sounds, and emo-that as it may, there is never any lack of tions as only a pen of fire could hope to portray. Indeed, I have no very distinct recol- Translated from the journal of a Saxon acquaintlection of what passed. Something I seem to

ance.

Be

selves rigidly to business; they are market-places, not parks or pleasure-gardens. Every square foot of them is solidly paved; no enclosed grass-plots, no flowerbeds, bushes, or trees are allowed. If you want such things, go where they are to be had; but when you enter the city make up your mind to city and nothing else.

I confess a decided preference for this arrangement over that which prevails in - the forAmerican and English cities cing scraps of country into the midst of every chance gap between the houses. Setting aside the question of hygiene, the effect of such violence done to Nature must be depressing to every one capable of being depressed. Could there be imagined two more irreconcilable elements than trees and brick walls? unless it were flower-beds and street-pavements? The houses, being in the majority, put out the trees; the trees, so far as they have any efficacy at all, satirize the houses. If we are in the garden, glimpses of the surrounding buildings distract our attention from the foliage; and if we would hear birds sing, it must be to an accompaniment of carriage-wheels and street-cries. Should we contrive to find a more secluded nook, where we might pretend for a moment to forget the city, we are in constant anxiety lest some untoward chance confront us with hypocrisy. Or if, on the other hand, we stand outside the railings, the case is no way bettered; the poor garden seems to pine like a bird in its cage, and so far from refreshing us, imposes a heavy tax on our sympathies.

spectators; and every week or so we hear of some poor creature's having been crushed beneath the Juggernautic wheels. Collisions with vehicles are frequent. The teamsters and droschke-drivers have a deadly feud with tramway-cars; the latter because the cars injure their business; the former because they make them "turn out." The police always support the new-fangled tramways, and the feud is thereby embittered. Most opprobrious epithets are exchanged, and occasionally matters proceed further yet. Once I saw a lumbering great waggon heavily bumped by a car. The waggoner, an uncouth, stolid-featured fellow, started at the jar as though a new and very ugly soul had suddenly entered into him. He stood up, shaking his fist and his whip, and shrieking out a great volume of abuse and defiance. The car passed on, leaving him to rave his fill. But this did not satisfy him. He presently jumped down from his box and gave chase, whip in hand, his long ragged coat flying out behind him. He caught up with the car, and lashed it with his whip as though it had been a sentient being. The guard was standing on the platform, but it was not until he had said something to the revengeful waggoner, that the latter's whip was aimed at him. The fellow probably thought that since the guard was connected with the car, it would be as well to give him a share of the car's punishment. He sprang on the step, and so plied the unfortunate official with his knotted lash, as soon to force him to retreat inside. The victor then jumped off, fetching the car a parting Nature must not be surrounded. Her thwack as he did so, and ran back to his waggon, laughing hysterically, talking beauty is not compatible with shackled incoherently to himself, and tossing up limbs; she must be free to extend to the his arms, in the savage glee of satiated horizon and salute the sky. Caged Navengeance. He ran directly into the ture will not sing, and loses her power to arms of an impassive, inexorable, hel-bless. She may hold a city in her bosom, like a jewel, and both she and the jewel meted policeman; and there I left him. will look the prettier; but either her majority must be without limit, or else DRESDEN abounds in squares or mar-all comparison should be avoided. Nevket-places, of great size in comparison with the uniform gloomy narrowness of the streets. It seems as though the streets, ever and anon, got tired of being narrow, and suddenly outstretched their mouths into a portentous yawn. If only a compromise could be effected between the expansion of the market-places and the contraction of the thoroughfares, Dresden would become a more consistent as well as a better-ventilated capital. These market-places confine them

VII.

our

er bring the country into town in larger quantity than may go into a flower-pot. If harmony and hygiene must come into collision here, I am inclined to let hygiene go to the wall as Dresden does. Let us abolish cities, if we can, but not by throwing green grass and flowers at them.

The Dresden market-place looks dreary enough, say, on a Sunday, when it has been swept severely clean, and the level expanse of stone is unbroken by so much

purely unpremeditated addition. I owe much to these excellent personages, and rejoice in this opportunity of acknowledging my debt. Had my acquaintance with Dresden never extended beyond the shadow of their big umbrellas, doubtless I had brought away more genial memories of it. As a background to their sturdy figures, the ugly houses, with their plaster faces and humpbacked roofs, acquire an undefinable charm. Whoever delineates Saxon life and manners, whether with pen or pencil, should not fail to give the marketplace an honourable position in his picture. The sun always shines there.

as a cigar-stump. It needs some audac-, hearty compliments and clever flatteries, ity to walk across it the expanse is so to which the cheerful suggestion that they large, and the conspicuousness so com- can furnish the very commodity which plete. The houses on opposite sides alone is needed to give the finishing touch stare hopelessly at one another, like hun- to our worldly well-being, appears a gry guests across an empty dining-table; and it seems as though the table never could be laid. But see what a transformation takes place on Friday morning market-day throughout Germany. The naked plain, which seemed incurably barren yesterday, has wonderfully brought forth what appears to be a great crop of colossal mushrooms, whereof the smallest stands six feet high. They rise from amidst fertile undergrowths of vegetables and produce of all kinds; and beneath them, in comfortable chairs made out of three-quarters of a barrel, stuffed and padded with old carpeting, sit robust old ladies in flannel petticoats and wooden These Friday-morning market-women shoes, every one of them knitting a blue must, however, be distinguished from stocking, and no less indefatigably solic- what may be called the every-day class, iting passers-by for their custom. The who have permanent stands at this and morning sun slants across the scene, that street-corner, rented by the year; gilding the umbrella-tops, and gloating who sit, not in three-quarter-barrels, but over the heaps of fresh green vegetables, in little wooden sentry-boxes, painted and everywhere making merry with the warm, omnipresent, stirring, shifting, murmuring life which crowds the marketplace from brim to brim.

green; who never exert themselves to solicit custom, but let their wares speak their own commendation; who suffer the buyer to depart as he came, instead of There is nothing else in Dresden so throwing after him the affectionate inbroadly picturesque and amusing, so rich junction, "Come again, highly-honoured in antique and piquant characteristics, so individual! Forget not your most deredolent of humour and good-humour, as voted servant! Their permanence, in are her markets and outdoor fairs. The short, seems to have dried up in them open sky and kindly sunshine give an air the springs of that naive and piquant of informality to the ugly business of humour which their Friday-morning sisbuying and selling, which renders it ters bring in fresh from the fields, along charming. Bewitching are the primitive stands improvised by these country dames for the display of their wares. They, too, are bewitching in their way a brown and wrinkled tribe, but full of shrewdness, and of broad, ready wit, that is often apt and amusing. There they sit from early morning till late afternoon, and then the whole establishment is packed into the dog-cart, and trundled

away.

Their costume is markedly simple, especially when compared with the fearfully and wonderfully made head-dresses and sleeves which are the fashion elsewhere on the Continent. They possess, moreover, an admirable talent for making themselves comfortable; never dash our spirits by assuming a miserable and lugubrious demeanour, but, on the contrary, wear the very most prosperous face possible, and address their customers not with an unintelligible whine, but with

with the turnips and cabbages. They become as stiff and taciturn as the little wooden boxes in which half their lives are passed; and, notwithstanding many luxurious appliances in the way of wraps, cushions, and footstools, which in the course of time they contrive to get together, they never look half so comfortable and contented as our jolly old favourites of the Altmarkt.

Certainly this market is worth all the enclosed parks and pleasure-gardens in the world. It is the only satisfactory solution of the problem how to bring city and country together. Set them on the honest, if unæsthetic, basis of buy and sell, and the meeting will redound to their mutual credit and profit.

VIII.

BUT the Altmarkt, in company with its smaller brethren, is indispensable for even more important purposes than the