storian was
somewhat at a discount, and the minstrel wrote the only records, with
his harp and voice, upon the memory of his hearers; save that here and
there a solitary monk wore out his days in copying the treasures of
antiquity, and used his imagination in embellishing the lives of saints
and martyrs. When the manuscript is found which settles the exact date
of King Lear's reign, I cannot doubt that it will give all particulars
about my kings also.

In those happy, misty days, there lived an Emperor of Germany,
Hildebrand by name, a potent monarch. His court was splendid, and his
retinue large and magnificent. But the chief glory of his palace, and
the pride of his heart, was his daughter Clotilda, whose amazing beauty
formed the theme of poets' praise, and whose fame was spread far beyond
the limits of the Empire. Her form was of queenly majesty, her movements
swan-like. Her glossy raven tresses set off a complexion of the greatest
brilliancy: her faultless features would have served as a model to the
sculptor. Large, sparkling eyes gave animation to her countenance, and
took all hearts by storm. Add to these rare endowments a lively though
malicious wit, great skill in all showy accomplishments, and especially
in the arts of coquetry, and is it wonderful that she was almost
worshipped in her father's court as a divinity?

To win her hand, embassies were sent from distant lands, and kings even
came in person to plead their cause; but, hitherto, none had been
successful. The fair Clotilda knew that she could choose among very many
suitors, and her heart was none of the softest. Besides, she was well
aware that she should be no portionless bride, as she and her younger
sister Edith were her father's only heirs. She loved to keep many
admirers in her train, but possessed too high a spirit to throw herself
away upon any one inferior to herself in rank, power, or wealth. In
addition to this, she had too keen a wit not to perceive and to enjoy
the ridiculous, even in a suitor anxiously striving to gain her love.
Truth to say, the adorable Clotilda had one small fault, unperceived by
her worshippers, and hidden by the splendor of her beauty. She was
heartless. If born with that important organ, she had early offered it
up upon the altar of her own pride and vanity. Deprived of her mother at
a very early age, and deferred to by all around, including her
imperious father, she had soon learned to issue her commands with
aut