see there the erthe of the tombe apertly many tymes steren and moven, as there weren quykke thinges undre." The connexion of this legend of S. John with Ephesus may have had something to do with turning the seven martyrs of that city into seven sleepers.

The annals of Iceland relate that in 1403, a Finn of the name of Fethmingr, living in Halogaland, in the North of Norway, happening to enter a cave, fell asleep, and woke not for three whole years, lying with his bow and arrows at his side, untouched by bird or beast.

There certainly are authentic accounts of persons having slept for an extraordinary length of time, but I shall not mention any, as I believe the legend we are considering, not to have been an exaggeration of facts, but a Christianized myth of paganism. The fact of the number seven being so prominent in many of the tales, seems to lead to this conclusion. Barbarossa changes his position every seven years. Charlemagne starts in his chair at similar intervals. Olger Dansk stamps his iron mace on the floor once every seven years. Olaf Redbeard in Sweden uncloses his eyes at precisely the same distances of time.

I believe that the mythological core of this

picturesque legend is the repose of the earth through the seven winter months. In the North Frederic and Charlemagne certainly replace Odin.

The German and Scandinavian still heathen legends represent the heroes as about to issue forth for the defence of Fatherland in the hour of direst need. The converted and Christianized tale brings the martyr youths forth in the hour when a heresy is afflicting the Church, that they may destroy the heresy by their witness to the truth of the Resurrection.

If there is something majestic in the heathen myth, there is singular grace and beauty in the Christian tale, teaching as it does such a glorious doctrine; but it is surpassed in delicacy by the modern form which the same myth has assumed a form which is a real transformation, leaving the doctrine taught the same. It has been made into a romance by Hoffman, and is versified by Trinius. I may perhaps be allowed to translate with some freedom the poem of the latter:

In an ancient shaft of Falum,
Year by year a body lay,

God-preserved, as though a treasure,
Kept unto the waking day.

Not the turmoil, nor the passions,
Of the busy world o'erhead,
Sounds of war, or peace rejoicings,
Could disturb the placid dead.

Once a youthful miner, whistling,
Hew'd the chamber, now his tomb,
Crash! the rocky fragments tumbled,
Closed him in abysmal gloom.

Sixty years pass'd by, ere miners
Toiling, hundred fathoms deep,
Broke upon the shaft where rested
That poor miner in his sleep.

As the gold-grains lie untarnish'd
In the dingy soil and sand,
Till they gleam and flicker, stainless,
In the digger's sifting hand;

As the gem in virgin brilliance
Rests, till usher'd into day ;-

So uninjured, uncorrupted,

Fresh and fair the body lay.

And the miners bore it upward,
Laid it in the yellow sun,

Up, from out the neighb'ring houses,
Fast the curious peasants run.

"Who is he?" with eyes they question. "Who is he?" they ask aloud :

Hush! a wizen'd hag comes hobbling, Panting through the wond'ring crowd.

Oh! the cry-half joy, half sorrow—
As she flings her at his side,
"John! the sweetheart of my girlhood,
Here am I, am I, thy bride.

"Time on thee has left no traces,

Death from wear has shielded thee; I am aged, worn, and wasted,

Oh! what life has done to me!"

Then, his smooth unfurrow'd forehead Kiss'd that ancient wither'd crone; And the Death which had divided, Now united them in one.

William Tell

SUPPOSE that most people regard the story

of Tell and the apple as an historical event; and with corresponding interest, when they undertake the regular Swiss round, visit the marketplace of Altorf, where is pointed out the site of the lime-tree to which Tell's child was bound, and contemplate the plaster statue which is asserted to mark the spot where Tell stood to take aim. Once, moreover, there stood another monument erected near Lucerne in commemoration of this event, a wooden obelisk, painted to look like granite, surmounted by a rosy-cheeked apple transfixed by a golden arrow. This gingerbread memorial of bad taste has perished, struck by lightning. We shall in the following pages demolish the very story which that erection was intended to commemorate.