can claim your sympathy or awaken your
attention; if the "Dark Ages" be to you Ages of Faith, or even lit with
the gray morning-light of civilization, come wander back with me beyond
the experimental revolution of the sixteenth century, to the time when
the Gothic temples of the living God were new.

It was the eleventh century: the sun shone as brightly then as now; ay,
and virtue too, though sympathy for a lustful tyrant has stamped the age
with infamy. Through an extensive forest in Suabia, as the old chronicle
from which I copy relates, a gallant youth was urging on, with voice and
rein, a steed that seemed as bold and fiery as his rider. The youth's
flashing eye, and the spear in his hand, told clearly enough that the
boar was before him. On he went, as if the forest were his element, now
bending low beneath the knotted bough, now swerving aside from the stern
old trunk which sturdily opposed his progress, and seemed to mock him as
he passed. On he went, as if danger were behind and safety before him;
as if he galloped to save his own life, not to risk it in taking a
boar's. An angry bark and a fearful howl rang in the distance, and the
hunter's bugle sounded a merry blast. On he went, faster than before,
and now as if he sought his mortal foe. The boar was at bay; monarch of
the wood, he had turned to defend his realm, and his white tusks were
soon red with the blood of the noble hounds who fearlessly disputed his
right. The youth leaped from his horse with the speed of thought. Bred
to the chase, the well-trained animal stood firm while his master
cautiously, but with the calmness of the victor of a hundred frays,
advanced against the bristling monster. Quitting the dogs for this new
assailant, the boar came madly on; the huntsman sank upon one knee, and
so true was his eye, and so firm his hand, that the heart of the savage
was cloven by the spear. The youth rose to his feet, dizzy from the
shock, and, springing nimbly upon the grim body of his prostrate victim,
his fine form swelling with the rapture of his recent triumph, brought
his horn to his lips, and again its notes went ringing merrily through
the woods.

Echoes, like fading memories, growing fainter and fainter as they
receded, gave the only response.

"Where can they be?" said the youth, "their steeds were fleet. Out of
sight and out of hearing! How completely I have beaten them."

He laughed triumphantly as he said this, and, sitting down upon the