ilver rivulet again meanders in silent solitude
through the concealed valley. The huge rock hurled down by the
lightning's stroke yet lies, a lasting monument, in the middle of the
road, and the medallion may yet be recognised. Time has effaced the
inscription, and the guide who now conducts the curious visitor knows
only a legend of an English gentleman, who atoned for his desire to
view a thunderstorm among the rocks by being very nearly crushed by the
fall of this rifted fragment. In memory of his imminent danger, and in
gratitude for his almost miraculous preservation, he is said to have
caused the medallion to be carved in the rock. Of the punishment of the
reprobate captain and the deep repentance of the colonel of the
converters, they have long since forgotten the tradition; and FANCY may
therefore be allowed to erect her light and airy castle upon the
granite foundation of history; to picture forth to those now living the
savage contests for opinion, of former times,--and to warn them against
the evils of an exclusive and intolerant spirit, into which we are in
constant danger of relapsing.

THE SORCERESS.

BY C. F. VAN DER VELDE.

CHAPTER I.

The first rays of the morning sun were brilliantly reflected by the
polished arms of Ryno and Idallan, as they rode gaily forth in search
of adventures. It was not their first similar excursion. As usual with
errant knights, they had struck down many a dragon, vanquished many a
giant, and rescued many a damsel from the clutches of wicked magicians.
Delicate arms had clasped their knees in gratitude, tender bosoms had
feverishly beat against their iron breastplates, ruby lips had pledged
them in golden cups of the juice of the Syracusan grape, and yet their
hearts remained cold and impenetrable as the pure steel of their armor.
The delightful consciousness of freedom, strength, and youthful
spirits, spoke in their every movement. Stately and beautiful they
passed on their way, their sharp lances resting quietly upon their
right stirrups, their swords peacefully clinking in their scabbards,
and their hands carelessly holding their highly ornamented bridle
reins.

Suddenly they heard female voices uttering distressing cries for help.
The steeds snorted and pricked up their ears; the knights involuntarily
drew a tighter rein, seized their lances, and applied the spur; a