ber day."

When she had said this, she conducted the bridal pair to their parents,
who embraced them with delight, and gave them the paternal blessing.
"Your joy will no more be troubled by the snares of malice," she said,
"for it is caught in its own trap." She again waved her sceptre, the
rock burst, and they saw the young king with a crown of rubies on his
head, in a purple mantle, stretched out, pale as death, on a couch,
while the lamp of death was burning over his head. The expression of
cunning and malice was in his countenance even in his death-slumber.
"Sleep on for ever," cried the fairy. "Levity will some day again
release me," he said in a hollow voice, and the vault closed. "For
this cycle, at least, nothing is to be feared," replied Peribanu.

Hereupon the good fairy celebrated the nuptials of the young couple,
and beautiful Nature, with all her creatures, shared the festival.
They lived long and happily in the bosom of nature, like our first
parents in the beginning of creation, and gave to posterity lovely
children, who became the ancestors of a powerful race in the mountains.
Hussain and Ibrahim died at a great age, and their grandchildren
mourned over them. The good fairy never left Ali and Gulhyndi.

C. A. F.

[1] Both in this and the following song a verse has been omitted, as
unsuitable to the general English reader.

ALAMONTADE.

A TALE OF THE TIMES OF LOUIS XIV., BY HEINRICH ZSCHOKKE.

A small village in Languedoc was my home and birth-place. I lost my
mother very early. My father, a poor farmer, could spend but little
for my education, although he was very saving; and yet he was far from
being the poorest in the village. He was obliged to give for taxes,
besides the tithe on his vineyards, olive plantations, and corn lands,
a fourth of what he earned with great trouble. Our daily food was
porridge, with black bread and turnips.

My father sank under his troubles. This grieved him very sorely.
"Colas," said he frequently to me, with troubled voice, laying his hand
upon my head, "hope forsakes me. I shall not, in spite of the sweat on
my brow, lay my head down in the coffin without leaving debts behind.
How shall I keep the promise which I made to your mother, with the last
kiss, on her death-bed? I solemnly promised her to send you to school
and make a clergyman of you. You will become a labourer and a servant
to strangers."

In such moments I comforted the good o