and entered a forest, with every track of which their guide seemed perfectly acquainted, for he led them through its most tangled mazes with as much security as if there had been a beaten path. It was growing dark when Waldmann gave a bark, which was answered by a merry shout from young voices, and a sudden turn brought them to the door of a cottage, the abode of the woodcutter; for such was the calling of our friend Martin. "Here's father! here's father!" cried his children, and they clung round him so as to prevent for a minute his entrance at the open door. "Bless the little fools, one would think their father had never been out of their sight in his life before," said the good man; and kissing first one and then another, he contrived to make his way into the house, where he was received by the housewife with a salute so warm as to leave no doubt that his absence from home must have been longer than usual. “O, Martin!" cried she, "I'm right glad to see you back again, so many things want Martin Schmidt had his own reasons for this request. He had a wife whom he was accustomed to consider a very clever woman, and a wonderful manager, and who certainly far outshone himself in the homely virtue of prudence. Margot was upon the whole a good-natured and wellmeaning person, but she held, as a fundamental maxim of her morality, that charity begins at home. Personal sacrifices for the sake of husband and children she was ready enough to make, but she did not conceive it to be incumbent on herself or Martin to help other people, | when it could only be done by some infringement on the well-being of their own family circle. Not many days back, Martin had got into disgrace with her for giving away half their last loaf to a way-looking after. But whom have you here ?” farer, before the children had got their supper; and a short time before, a quarrel having taken place between a rich and powerful neighbor and a poor and insignificant one, he had been guilty of the still less pardonable delinquency of interfering in favor of the weaker party. "Martin Schmidt," she said to him on this occasion, "thou art a fool! What matter is it to thee who is right or who is wrong? But it will matter, if thou makest thyself an enemy who is powerful enough to do thee mischief." Knowing this trait in the good woman's character, Martin was very anxious that she should not suspect, as he himself did, that his young guests were connected with the banished heretics. Indeed, the rigor which was exercised toward all who befriended those unfortunate people was enough to excuse some backwardness in offering help to any supposed to belong to them. But prudent doubts never entered the head of Martin Schmidt, when his heart was touched by the sight of suffering. He took Hans by the hand, helped him over the rough places in the road, and so cheered both the boys with his hearty voice, that they performed the hour's walk which remained better than might have been expected. They crossed the heath, she inquired, as soon as she was aware that Martin was not alone. 66 "Only two lads, who are going to Lauffen, and have lost their way in trying to make a short cut across the heath," answered Martin, carelessly; we must take them in to-night. They'll do the same for me when I travel their way, I have no doubt." Hospitality is a virtue of which there is no lack among the German peasantry, and though, perhaps, Margot would rather her husband had returned alone, a feeling strengthened by a rapid calculation of the contents of her larder, she received her unexpected guests with tolerable courtesy, while the children greeted them with a hearty and boisterous welcome. There was plenty of supper for everybody, and never did epicure relish the most luxurious repast more than the hungry boys the coarse bread and cheese which Margot placed before them for the evening's meal. When they had finished, Hans became so drowsy, that he was soon glad to betake himself to the bed which his hostess had prepared for him and his brother beside the stove, and Rudolph was nothing loth to follow his example. Margot remarked that they seemed very tired. Where could they have come from, to look so travel-worn? ferings, and his schemes for the future, and ended by asking advice how to proceed in his unndertaking. Her husband fore his host was in possession of all his accounted for it by their having lost their | little history. He detailed his past sufway, and she asked no more questions. To do her justice, Margot was not curious about other people's business. Her own was too intensely interesting to her to leave time for speculation upon that of her neighbors. "Poor things," she merely remarked, "I hope they will be rested in the morning, and ready to start again." The morning came, and, in spite of his weariness, Rudolph was stirring as soon as his host, and ready, at an early hour, to take his departure. Not so Hans. He slept so soundly after the unusual toil which he had undergone, that not all the efforts of his brother could rouse him to exertion. He did not seem to comprehend what was required of him, and fell back into a heavy slumber as soon as Rudolph desisted from shaking him, and calling on him to rise. In spite of her wish over-night, Margot's heart filled with pity as she looked upon the weary boy. "Let him alone; let him lie," said she; "he will travel all the better for another hour's rest." "Yes, yes; let him lie," added her husband; he must be sadly tired, to sleep in that way." Rudolph acquiesced, but unwillingly, for he was so anxious to proceed, that any delay seemed intolerable to him. But when he reflected how much better Hans would be able to pursue his journey when thoroughly rested, he thanked the kind people heartily, and agreed to wait an hour or two without disturbing him. Meanwhile, was there nothing he could do to make himself useful to his kind host and hostess? He received an invitation to accompany the woodcutter to the forest, and assist him in his occupation. This proposal was gladly acceded to, and leaving Hans to the care of Margot, they set out together. As they walked and talked, honest Martin forgot the prudent restraint which he had determined to put on his curiosity, and soon found himself making rapid progress in the confidence of his young acquaintance. Something about the boy interested him, and he could not avoid showing it. Interest and sympathy were so new to Rudolph, he had felt so much need of them lately, that they lured his secret from him, and it was not long be It was difficult to advise in an enterprise so desperate: The most immediate danger, however, was that of detection, and the generous woodcutter recommended that the boys should remain in his house for a day or two, suggesting that the search (should any be made for them) would most probably be over by that time, and that, meanwhile, in so secluded a retreat they would be almost certain to escape observation. Rudolph saw how much this plan would be to his advantage; but, nevertheless, it was not altogether agreeable to him, so impatient did he feel to press on toward the Bavarian frontier. Martin's arguments, however, reconciled him to the proposal, and when his last scruples were removed, by the assurance that his labor for the next few days would fully compensate for the expense of his own and his brother's maintenance, the matter was settled. We say it was settled, for, in spite of his respect for his wife, and his pliability in matters of no consequence, when once he had made up his mind o any step, Martin was not to be move▲ by her most eloquent remonstrances. Nevertheless, words, airy as they are, produce an effect even on the most stolid, a class to which our friend Martin by no means belonged, and we must excuse him if he devoutly hoped that his better half would remain in ignorance of the true character of his guests, and if he framed a reasonable excuse for detaining them, by declaring that he had found Rudolph a valuable assistant, and that he had engaged him to assist in executing an order for wood, which he could not accomplish by himself in the given time. This was true as far as it went, and Martin was chuckling over his little stratagem, in the full belief of its entire success, while Hans, the luckless Hans, was busy in the cottage overturning it completely. Hans was one of the most luckless, and at the same time one of the luckiest, urchins that ever made a mother's delight and a mother's torment. No boy of his age more frequently rent his clothes, upset earthenware, or, in fine, was guilty of a greater number of domestic delinquencies than Hans; and yet no other boy made more friends, got out of every trouble more easily, or, upon the whole, led a merrier life than he did. If he lost his dinner, some one gave him another; if he fell, some one picked him up; if he of- | fended his parents, some one was at hand to intercede for him, and make his peace. His fortune was true to him this morning; as usual he made a blunder, but, as usual, he made a friend. He awoke from his heavy slumbers rested and refreshed, and after breakfast was completely himself. He and the children of the cottage were soon at play, and as Margot looked at them every now and then from her washtub, she felt, though she did not put the feeling into words, that the happy party made as pretty a group as the eye could rest upon. But, though a painter might have contemplated it sometimes with satisfaction, the good housewife could not. Idleness she held in the most utter contempt and abhorrence, and play of all kinds she considered but as a form of idleness, only to be tolerated in the mere baby members of the family. She always repeated, that even children might be useful, and she soon interrupted the amusement by calling upon them to perform several little tasks about the house which were suitable to their age and strength. Hans, always good-humored and ready, made himself very useful; he had been accustomed to help his mother at home, and it was pleasant to him to fall into the same kind of life again. Margot grew quite interested in him, as she listened to his merry voice, and looked into his laughing eyes. As he moved about, she observed that he still limped a little. | the same thing—and they live at Lauffen, do they ?" "Where ?" asked Hans, for he troubled himself very little about the names of the places on their way, and he had forgotten that this was the town to which they were supposed to be journeying. "At Lauffen, where you are going; are your father and mother there now ?" "I don't know," was the unexpected response to this last question. "Don't know where your own parents are!" cried Margot, with a hearty laugh. She little thought how true this answer was! It seemed to her very strange, and his manner was so different from the frank, open ease with which he had before conversed, that her curiosity was excited, and she questioned him further. Hans was little able to dissimulate, and his secret escaped him. As soon as Margot comprehended that she was aiding and abetting two of the children of the exiled heretics to escape from the guardianship of the Church, she stood mute with amazement and horror. Then she dried her hands, went to the cottage-door, and called out, "Martin!" A moment's reflection apparently reminded her that Martin, far away in the forest, was not likely to hear her voice, for she returned and resumed her employment, but with such an air of trouble and vexation, that poor Hans was in despair at the effect of his mistimed confidence. He implored her not to betray them; and, now that no other further mischief could be done, told her in his childish way all their history. As she listened, she unconsciously forgot her own risk in compassion for the parents bereaved of their children; the children snatched from their parents, and wandering friendless over the wide world to seek them. It was well that her feelings had experienced this revolution before the return of her husband and Rudolph to dinner; for though, when she heard Martin's plan, she did not fail to inform him of what she had learned from Hans as an indisputable reason why the boys should be no longer detained; yet, when she found him quite determined, she entered into his views more cordially than might have been expected. She already knew so much, that They did not send us," answered there was no reason why complete conHans, grave enough now, and much em- fidence should not be placed in her; so barrassed. Martin represented how they might save "O, they sent you to Salzburgh-it is these poor boys from much peril by shel "Your feet are sore yet, my boy," she said, compassionately; "you have been sent a long way on an errand." Hans started, and colored deeply. "Who told you we were sent on an errand ?" asked he. 66 Why, what ails the boy? one would think I had charged him with theft! I suppose people do not walk so as to make their feet sore without something to go for. Your father and mother have sent you to Lauffen for something or other, have they not?" 66 tering them for a day or two, and how small a risk they would themselves incur, seeing that it was extremely improbable that any search would be made in so remote a situation, to which the merest chance alone had directed the fugitives. Danger often bears a more formidable aspect when viewed from a distance than when fairly confronted face to face, and Margot was astonished to find that she could go coolly about her usual occupations with two of the proscribed and persecuted sect actually under her roof. However, she did not altogether lay aside her native prudence. She stipulated that the boys should not remain in the cottage during the day; and this was a proposition too reasonable to be objected to. Hans could at any rate help to bind up fagots, so he was to accompany his brother to the forest; and, as Martin's eldest boy begged to be allowed to go also, the arrangement was tolerably satisfactory to all parties. The few days of their stay passed very quickly; and sorry, indeed, was every member of the juvenile party when they were over. Martin had not been idle in the interval. He had made a journey to the nearest town, and had gained some information respecting the route to Passau. He had also contrived, by means of some Jew merchants with whom he fortunately met, to procure clothes for the boys, such as were worn by the Bavarian peasantry, in exchange for their own; which, having been supplied at the cloister, were rather remarkable, and likely to lead to observation. As might be expected, the change was for the worse with respect to the quality of the habits; but that was a price willingly paid for the additional security. Happily Rudolph had contrived to bring away his flute, and Martin recommended him to assume the character of a wandering minstrel, and to make that profession the plea for his journey and a means of support. He good-naturedly warned them against being as free with their confidence to others whom they might encounter on their journey as they had been to him. Rudolph promised to be careful. better prepared now than he had been in the hurry and apprehension of their flight, uncertain which way to turn, or where to look for guidance and shelter. Martin had provided for their first night's entertainment in a place of security. He had spoken to a cousin of his who kept a little VOL. IV., No. 6.—QQ He was inn at a village about seven leagues on their way, and she would take them in for his sake, and give them a bed and a supper. "She was well-to-do in the world," he said, "had plenty of everything, and, what was better, was a good woman, and ready to give to those who had nothing." On the morning of the sixth day they set out. It was like the departure of a vessel from a friendly harbor, to tempt once more the uncertain ocean. Rudolph and Hans felt equally sad when they caught the last glimpse of Margot's kind countenance and the children's tearful faces. The woodcutter accompanied them through the forest. When he had brought them to the road, he repeated his directions for their future progress, and announced that he must return. With broken voices the boys said, "Good-by." Hans cried outright, and Rudolph had to exercise all his self-command to restrain his sobs. With desperate resolution he took his brother by the hand, and once more muttering some broken expressions of gratitude and farewell, hurried onward. Martin stood upon the hill on which they had parted, and watched them till they were quite out of sight. "God help them, poor young things!" said he to himself, as he walked homeward; "they have a long journey to make in a rough world, and a forlorn hope at the end of it!" As he thought of all they must endure, and of much that they might have to suffer, his step grew slower, and his countenance still more grave. Once he seemed about to turn and recall them. But he shook his head, and muttered, "It would be of no use, even if I had plenty, and could afford to keep them; that boy would not give up his design, if he might live like a king." With a sigh he once more committed them to the care of the Almighty, and pursued his way homeward with a quicker step. There was a saying, which he had heard either from a pious priest or from one of his heretic acquaintances, (for he, too, had known some of the members of the persecuted Church,) which came to his mind, and which comforted him :— "Providence must have brought me to them," said he, " and they will surely find others whose hearts will open to them; for it is doubtless true, he does' temper the wind to the shorn lamb.'” or historian only melancholy echoes, like those of Chios, Janina, and Navarino, notwithstanding its extraordinary topographical situation, with its inclosure of ramparts, and imposing monumental mass of the Acropolis, which crowns it, in 1847 -9 appeared to be one of the most peaceable and quiet of provincial towns. The brilliant capital of the kingdom of Pontus and of Mithridates, which was regarded by the Romans, even, as a place of importance, is now a decayed city. Its population, consisting of about three thousand Turks and fifteen hundred Rayas, (subjects of the Porte, but not Mussulmans,) has no resources beyond the construction of a few merchant vessels, and the chance trade which may be brought by the steamboats plying between Constantinople and Trebi exalted reputation for idleness, supported by an annual consumption of brandy, at an almost incredible expense. In every quarter of the town there are numerous cafes. There is scarcely an attempt at agriculture; though in the few cultivated spots to be met with, the soil appears exceedingly fertile. The port of Sinope is, however, the best on the Anatolian coast; its buildings are so firmly founded as to defy the winds and waves. We saw four beautiful brigs in its dock-yard, which dock-yard, bythe-way, was so celebrated, that the Prince de Joinville visited it about fifteen years since, expressly to examine its construction. It is now only used for the imperial marine. From the elevated summit of the Cape |