smile; 'there
is no animal however small that will not fight for its life. It was a
bad business, yet has turned out well.' The party laughed.

"'Be careful,' said the old gentleman in going away, 'that you do not
get jammed between the branches of the deer you are riding on there.' At
this they all laughed heartily, and I could, from time to time, hear the
old man's jolly roar, that resounded far in the wood.

"'What does that allude to?' said I to my companion, 'and who are these
two old men?'

"'The one,' answered she, 'in the green frock, with the gray hat, is the
gamekeeper. The other, in the brown habit, is Mads the under-ranger, who
lives close by, and whom the young gentleman brought with him. The story
of the deer I will tell you.'

"While she was relating this and the whole history of the elopement, my
notice was attracted by a pair, who were having a dance to themselves,
while all the others stood watching them.

"'Who are they?' inquired I; 'they look a little remarkable,
particularly the youth in the long yellow skin ineffables, in that blue
jacket, and that extraordinary cap on his head?'

"'He is no youth,' answered she, 'but a married man; it is his wife he
is dancing with; he comes from Turkey, and accompanied his young master
home from the wars. He is secretary and gardener, and is both pot and
pan in the house. His wife has been long in the young lady's service,
and, they say, helped her away when she eloped from her parent's
house.'"

And now my story is ended. Many ages of man lie between then and now.
There has been ringing and singing over several generations since the
persons therein commemorated passed to eternal rest. Both the old and
the young lords of Ansbjerg have long been forgotten in the
neighbourhood, and no one now knows aught to tell of Black Mads. The
manor-house has often changed its proprietors, the lands have been sold
and divided.

Of the robber's cave alone, an obscure and confused tradition has been
preserved. On the great heath, about two miles west of Karup stream, are
some heath-covered hills, which yet bear, and ever will bear that
sinister name; but no one now thinks that there was once an asylum for
tender and steadfast love, a paradise underground.

A RIDE TO MAGNESIA.

The sun was already below the horizon, when we entered on the plain of
Magnesia. Our poor brutes were sadly jaded; for the latter part of the
journey had been very severe. For some ti