ERMAN OF AUERSPERG.)

Through the city's narrow gateway
Forth an aged beggar fares,
None is there to give him escort,
And no farewell word he bears.

Heaven's grey cloud to no one whispers
Of God's message in its fold;
Earth's grey rock to no one whispers
That it hides the shaft of gold.

And the naked tree in winter
Tells not straightway to the eye
That it once so greenly glistened,
Bloomed and bore so bounteously.

None would dream that yon old beggar,
Tottering, bending toward the ground,
Once was clothed in royal purple,
And his silver locks gold-crowned!

Foul conspirators discrowned him,
Tore the radiant purple off,
Placing in his hands, for sceptre,
Yonder wormy pilgrim-staff.

Thus, for years, now, has he wandered,
All ungreeted and unknown,
Through so many a foreign country,
Bowed and broken and alone.

Weary unto death, he lays him
'Neath a tree, in evening's beam,
Music in the twigs and blossoms
Sings him to an endless dream.

Men that to and fro pass by him,
Speak in softened tones of grief;
Who may be the poor old beggar,
That has found this sad relief?

But mild Nature, soft-eyed Nature,
Knows the aged sleeper there,
Obsequies of solemn splendor,
Meet for king, will she prepare.

From the tree fall wreaths of blossoms,
Floating down to crown his head,
And a sceptre's golden lustre
Sunset on his staff hath shed.

For a canopy above him
Rustling twigs a green arch throw,
And he wears a royal purple
In the evening's mantling glow.

RECOLLECTIONS OF NEANDER,

THE CHURCH HISTORIAN.

BY THE REV. ROSWELL D. HITCHCOCK, D.D.

In the spring of 1848, during the progress of the European revolutions,
which promised so much and performed so little, I spent several weeks in
Berlin, the capital of Prussia, and saw much, both in public and in
private, of "the father of modern church history," whose name I had long
revered, and whose image now is one of the choicest treasures of memory.
Of all the Christian scholars I have ever known, he stands in my thoughts
without a rival; a child in simplicity, a sage in learning, and in broad,
catholic and fervent piety, a noble saint. In common with hundreds of my
countrymen, I owe him a debt of gratitude, of which this humbl