ent him garlands, and beg him to sing their festival; the Zephyrs,
which were wont to play amid his harp-strings, seek in the bushes, and
ask whether he has forgotten them there; caress the old man, and seek
again, but in vain. They are about to fly, but he entreats:

O dear ones, depart not I pray!
O flowers, spread with beauty my way!
My harp is broken, but no sigh
Spring's spirits gay shall cause to fly.
And I am still so blest;
In my heart is heavenly rest.

"He wanders farther, and seeks out every beloved nook. The youth of the
country assemble, and surround the aged singer--'the friend of youth and
gladness.' They entreat him with his music to beautify their festival:

For spring is dead, with all its pleasure,
Without the harp and song's glad measure.

"The old man replies:

Quenched, ye youth, is my fire so wild;
My evening twilight is cool, but mild;
And the blissful hours of my youth are brought,
By your lively songs, into my thought.
Bewail me not; I am still so blest--
In my heart lieth heaven's own rest.

"And now he exhorts the songsters of the wood, flowers, youth,
everything that is lovely in nature and in life, to rejoice in its
existence, and to praise the Creator. The beauty and joy of all
creatures are the garland in his silver hair; and grateful and happy,
admiring and singing praises, he sinks softly into the maternal bosom of
Nature."

Alette was silent; a tender emotion trembled in her voice as she uttered
the last words, and beamed in her charming countenance. The tears of
Mrs. Astrid flowed; her hands were convulsively clasped together, whilst
she exclaimed, "Oh thus to feel before one dies! and thus to be
permitted to die!" She drew Alette to her with a kind of vehemence,
kissed her, and then wept silently, leaning on her shoulder. Harald,
too, was affected; but he appeared to restrain his feelings, and gazed
with earnest and tearful eyes on the group before him.

Silently and unobserved stole Susanna out of the room. She felt a sting
in her heart; a serpent raged in her bosom. Driven by a nameless
agonised disquiet, she hastened forth into the free air, and ascended,
almost without being aware of it herself, the steep footpath up the
mountain, where many a time, in calmer moments, she had admired the
beautiful prospect.

Great and beautiful scenes had, during the foregoing conversation,
arisen before her view;--she felt herself so little, so poor bes