felt as if he had been left a widower for the second time. Dürten had gone out of the back door, and went through the back streets to her father's house. She looked neither to the right nor to the left; it seemed to her as if people could read in her face what had happened to her, and how she had been dismissed from the Herr Conrector's ser vice. Der. What is to become of me, poor creature?" said she to her perplexed heart. She went in at the back door, which led into her father's workshop. "Thank God! it is Whitsuntide, the workshop will be empty. Well, I shall remember this Whitsuntide my life long." She went in; she sank down on a workbench, and her hands dropped in her lap; her head sank upon her breast, while she gazed, in deep thought, at a heap of shavings in the cor"Dear heart! what will become of me? I cannot stay here. What should I do here? To take the bread from the mouths of my sister and my old father! No, no! Oh, I can get another place, to be sure; but where? There are none here in the city; and in the country? Oh, yes, very likely; but then I could not look after things here, and everything would go to rack and ruin. The old man cannot help it, and Stining has her head full of other things, and is too good-natured to say it shall be so and not otherwise! And yet I must needs go and quarrel with her this morning! God preserve us!" cried she, and put her apron to her eyes, "it stirred everything up in me!" and she wept bitterly." And yet I was right, what had Stining to do between me and my master? And I was in the right with him, too; I was perfectly in the right!" she cried, and kicked an old barrel hoop, which lay in her way, against the wall, and the old hoop bounded back, and she threw it against the wall again: "Lie there, you old thing! No, one must get angry at everything! And she sat there, and thought and thought, and with all her thinking she came ever to the same conclusion - she was right and the Herr Conrector wrong; and all at once she sprang up: "Good Heavens! how I have forgotten. The dinner is on the fire, and will be burned and spoiled. Well, let it; what does it matter to me? No, that won't do, that will never do, and I won't be in fault. And he shall not say that I have done him any harm." With that, she returned by the way that she had come, and went in to the back gate of the Conrector's yard. 'She stepped very lightly, for she felt as if she were breaking into a strange house and might be accused of wrong-doing. She slipped into the kitchen, and found her bacon cooking beautifully; she took a cloth and spread the table in the Herr Conrector's room. "He shall see that I have done my duty faithfully to the last," said she. She took up the dinner, and as she was going through the passage and out of the house, she saw the unlucky article of apparel which was the cause of all the trouble, and which Pagel had left on the table. All the anger of the morning arose in her again. She seized the breeches, and, rolling them up in a bundle, put it on the table on a plate, and covered a napkin over it, saying: "Lie there! Not even an old spencer can be got out of the old thing! But he shall see that I stand up for my rights, to the last! So! Much good may it do you!" but With that she started out of the room, The Herr Conrector had been sitting in his garden in troubled thought. He also had asked himself: "What shall I, poor, lonely creature, do?" It seemed to him, all at once, that he heard somebody stirring in the house; but that could not be. Now the clock struck twelve, and his stomach also reminded him that it was dinnertime; he must go back to Baker Schultz's, but first he would deposit his half-smoked pipe in his room; so he went into the house, but! Dürten stood before him, red with shame, which one might suppose had some deeper cause than mere hastiness or feeling of obligation. She tried to pass her master, but he stood with outstretched arm, and looked at the dinner on the table and then at Dürten, and thought it was all out of love for him and desire of doing her duty. 66 I "No!" he cried, as Dürten tried to slip out under his arm, and he put it around her, and held her fast, "no, Dürten! know you have put that all out of your mind, and you wanted to do me a pleasure." "Let me go, Herr Conrector!" 66 No, Dürten, I know, Schultsch has told me that was a stupid blunder of the boy, of Pagel." "So?" asked Dürten, rather sharply, and she showed herself a true daughter of Eve, for she went on: "And yet you are such a learned and clever man! Who sends a lame man as a courier, and chooses a stammerer to deliver a message!" "Dürten," said the Conrector, and he had his arm about her still, "I was to 66 blame; I said Büx, and meant Büss, the not that the Justizrath Schroeder going black box; and it made me a laughing-by? Ah, no; I am mistaken, —it must stock at the church, and they joked me be the Herr Superintendent." One must about it, and I was angry, and and know that the Herr Superintendent is not he stroked her cheek. But she did not get her will, for the Herr Conrector took her will from her lips with a good, hearty kiss. So now it was settled; now she stood still, what next? Properly speaking, it was Dürten's turn now, for the Herr Conrector had made full amends for his fault; but Dürten did nothing and said nothing; for the morning's thoughts were springing up and blooming so beautifully, she could not keep them down, she must needs cherish them, and she watered them with warm tears, which flowed from her eyes as she saw how the Herr Conrector placed a chair for her at the table, and opened the drawers here and there, as if he expected to find knives and forks in his writing-table. And when Dürten was finally seated, the Herr Conrector said, very seriously: "Dürten, you must not think that we learned people are wise in everything; and he looked as honest as if it were really nearly so tall as the Justizrath, and the Justizrath not nearly so stout as the Herr Superintendent, and if one runs to the window and looks out, it is generally some old woman with a basket on her arm, and the Herr Doctor Dolli begins to complain of his short sight, and so gets out of his embarrassment. Dürten made use of a similar expedient; she cried, in her dis tress: "Herr Conrector, look out, look out! Is not that the Soltmann going by?" "Eh, no," said Herr Conrector. "Yes," said Dürten, "that is she-she has on a brown dress to-day." "Eh, Dürten, it was a blue one." "No, no, it was brown; look once more. If she goes in at Doctor Hempel's, it is she." "It was blue, though," persisted the Conrector; but he rose and looked out of the window. Like a flash, Dürten pulled the breeches from under the napkin, and hid them under her apron. "How could you be so mistaken, Dürten? It certainly was a blue dress." "So?" said Dürten, quite resigned to her mistake. "Well, it is possible it was blue; things look brown to me, sometimes;" and with that she stood up and started to leave the room. But the Conrector was full of mischief to-day; he sprang after her, and held her fast: "You see now, Dürten, it will never do "No, Dürten, no! You are not to run for you to leave me; I should do all man-away from me like that; first we must enner of stupid things. And here, you have certainly got me some special treat for Whitsuntide," and he was about to take the napkin from the covered dish. In her happiness Dürten had quite forgotten this unlucky dish; she sprang up and held the napkin down with both hands. The Conrector naturally took it for a prac tical joke, intended to make the surprise the greater, and so, to carry on the joke, he tried to lift the corner of the napkin and peep under. This would never do, or farewell to happiness and contentment, peace and joy! This black velvet tempest had overshadowed Dürten's heaven long enough, and thunder and lightning had already fallen upon her; she must find a lightning conductor, and she was as skilful at this business as my friend, Herr Doctor Dolli of Treptow. When he becomes embarrassed, he makes a long neck, looks quickly out of the window, and asks: "Is joy this treat together. How? What! Where has it gone to?—The dish that you were going to treat me with?" and he bent down, as if he meant to taste a forbidden treat from Dürten's lips. But Dürten tore herself loose and pushed him back, and said, very earnestly: "Herr Conrector, my dear Herr Conrector, the dish which stood covered between us to-day must always remain a covered dish; for I hope peace and rest will continue between us, and by and by you shall know what it was. And, Herr Conrector, if you wish it, I will gladly remain your housekeeper, and I will try to fill the post more faithfully than before; but, Herr, I am a poor girl, I have nothing but my honest name." With that she turned to go, blushing deeply, and her hand sought twice for the latch of the door before she found it. The Conrector stood still, looking at the place where she had vanished from his ter? And what had he done? He had eyes. After a while he turned around and given her a kiss. Well, it was a stupid went, by force of habit, up to his pipe- trick, a boy's trick. What had he to do shelf, as if he would light his after-dinner with kissing? He had kissed her twice pipe. He did not do it, however, but stood now, and the last time on the lips; this looking at the old pipe-stems in the cor- foolish kissing might bring him into diffiner, as they lay scattersd crosswise over culties. How came he to do such a thing? each other, as if they were his own Yes, it was true, he had often thought thoughts. He had been so pleased and of marrying; but he had thought of it happy at finding his Durten again, his mood quite differently, not at all in connection at dinner had been so jovial, his heart was with kissing, he had thought of it as a so light; but it was not as if flowers were sort of business partnership, with mutual blooming there; it was green, green assistance and the highest respect on both throughout, like a beautiful meadow, in sides, where "our Aepinus" would attend which all sorts of useful cattle were graz-to the outside business at the school, and ing; he had his housekeeper again. But, -but, now, when Dürten had repulsed him in his frolicsome mood, it seemed to him as if she had driven all the cattle out of his meadow, and the grass grew higher and higher, and flower buds showed themselves amid the grass, and if the Lord should send a warm rain and bright sunshine, why should not even an old meadow begin to bloom? He forgot his pipe; he did not sit down in his arm-chair; he began to walk up and down the room. Good heavens! how differently Dürten had looked, as she went out of the door, from usual! So earnest, quiet and gentle was her manner, and her words also. She had said so softly," My dear Herr, I have nothing but my honest name." But was he, the Conrector Aepinus, a dangerous charac-order. his "Company" take charge of the kitchen. But where was the "high respect " for Dürten, if he kissed her so? Was he really? Oh, preserve us, how was it possible? Yes, was he really falling in love? What! In his position, and at his age, and then with his housekeeper! It was a confounded business, and there was no one whose advice he could ask, for the only one who gave him good counsel, and always had, was his Dürten, — and that was out of the question. Then the bells rang for church; he must go and sing and play; but as he sat before his organ, he had visions of the black velvet breeches of the morning, and then of Dürten as she went out of the room after dinner, and his playing and singing were not of the highest 66 EARLY POEM. In closing his sermon on | THE PHYSICS OF A FOG. At the meeting of Good Works v. Good Words, in the parish the Manchester Philosophical Society October church of St. Andrew's, on August 25, 1872, 29, 1872, Dr. R. Angus Smith, F.R.S., described Dean Stanley of Westminster quoted the follow- a remarkable fog which he saw in Iceland. It ing lines, of which, he said, it was doubtful appeared to rise from a small lake and from the whether they were written by one of the earliest sea at about the same time, when it rolled from Deans of Westminster or by one of the earliest both places, and the two streams met in the Scottish Reformers: town of Reykjavik. It had the appearance of dust, and was called dust by some persons there the particles of which it was composed. They at first sight. This arose from the great size of were believed to be from 1-400 to 1-300 of an inch in diameter. They did not show any signs of being vesicular, but through a small magnifier looked like transparent concrete globules of water. They were continually tending downwards, and their place was supplied by others that rolled over. Popular Science Review. Say well is good, but do well is better; ease; Say well to silence sometimes is bound, Then all were done, all were won, and gotten A WRITER in the Athenæum states that Mrs. Somerville had written an autobiography which she intended for publication after her death. From Macmillan's Magazine. A SLIP IN THE FENS. "LOOK here, mother," she said, as Mrs. Reade came to the door in her pattens, with the dripping broom in her hand, "I don't think this worth a patch, I shall only darn it; what do you think?" and she pointed to a rent in the little print frock she was holding up. But Mrs. Reade did not look at it; her attention was fixed on the path over the fen. "I do believe," she said. "What is it, mother?" Elsie exclaimed in a sudden access of nervousness. 66 Why, a gentleman! and it's my belief he's coming here, yes, so he is! Just to think," and she moved the pail from before the door,-"that it should be now, when I'm all behind with my work, and sometimes for weeks there isn't a creature passing, and to-day we can't have a minute to ourselves!" Elsie said nothing. She sat still, listening to the approaching step. She saw the broken shadow pass over the flowers, but she did not move till she heard the gate open; then she felt bound to look up, and, to her infinite satisfaction, she saw a stranger. She laid her work aside, and rose to hear what he wanted, with a strained composure that reminded Dobree of their former meeting. "What a strange girl!" he thought. He asked her if her name was Reade. "Yes, sir." "Elsie, don't take the gentleman all that way round. Yon needn't spare my bricks, sir; you can't do any harm; and it's a shame that it should have been left about so late." Here Mrs. Reade stopped suddenly in her apologies, and looked towards the gate in astonishment. There was Rettie with the boys. "And what's brought you home at this time o' day, and how is it you've got nothing? "We han't been at all. We han't been gleanin'. We ha' been at Mrs. Bailey's," exclaimed all the children at once. "Be quiet, can't you? and let Rettie speak. Now, Rettie what have you got to say?" 66 bit if we stayed, and she was sure you wouldn't mind, for all the cows are goin' to die, and she means to save hers, and she wants to know if you'd like some beef, for she's sent for the man to kill the old 'un, and she'll sell it at threepence a pound.' Rettie stopped for want of breath; it had been a day of great excitement to her. No, sure," said her mother; "we don't want none o' such beef as that." 66 "It's quite good," insisted Rettie, who had imbibed a party interest in the speculation, "and wonderful cheap." "And what did you do to help?" asked Dobree, amused at her enthusiasm. Rettie had not noticed the stranger in her anxiety to tell the day's wonders. She looked down, quite abashed, and answered in a subdued tone, Hanging up onions, sir." 66 "Hanging up onions?" repeated Mrs. Reade; what had that to do with it?" “Oh! when we got there," Rettie began in her former breathless manner, "there was Bailey in the garden in a great way, sayin' it was no use, he'd dig graves for 'em; and he was lookin' about for a place. But Mrs. Bailey, she goes up to him, and says, 'Just let me see you do it, and you shall be the first to be buried in it! You'd better stir yourself, and help me to empty the barn. So we all set to work, and the barn was clear in no time; and Joe, be ran up street for some lime, and we sprinkled it all over the place, and tied up strings o' onions all along the walls, and turned the cows in, and I think they'll do." "Sure to do; Mrs. Bailey said so," broke in the boys, who had had great difficulty in keeping silence all this time. He "They can't help it, if you've had a hand in it," said Grandfather, laughing. had come through the house while they were talking, and had overheard their account of themselves. "They look as if they had been working with a will," said Dobree, making way for the old man. "And what did you get for your day's work?" They were too shy to answer; but the brown fingers closed tightly over the sixpences he gave them, as they ran off, impatient to get away with their prize. "Those are the little ones, I suppose?' said Dobree. "She is my youngest child, sir," and Mrs. Reade pointed to Rettie. "Those are my son's boys." Dobree looked surprised, and she was Why, when we got to Mrs. Bailey's we not insensible to the flattering suggestion. found her all in a bustle, and not goin'"My Jonathan, he married before he was gleanin,' and she said we could help her a twenty, and his wife died, leaving four; so what could we do but take care of them?, dering when Lillingstone would come; And besides that, I've got two other sons, wishing that he made no secret of his comunder Jonathan but really, sir, I'm ing; hoping that no one would be at home ashamed we should have kept you waiting when he did come; and worrying her at the door so long. We will go and head to calculate what chance could time choose your ferns now unless you will his second visit so well for him as the first. do us the honour to come in and rest." The quiet Sunday, with its leisure hours, Then aside to Rettie, "Run round to the greatly helped such vague speculation; back, and get Martha out of the way." and so the week passed, and Thursday came round again. "Thank you; I cannot wait long," said Dobree, and he turned towards the garden. "You see I know my way better than you think. I came here the day before yesterday, and explored all round the house to see if there was anyone at home; and then I was very glad to rest in that cool corner by the well. I made friends, too, with a friend of yours," he added, turning to Elsie, curious to hear her speak. But she said nothing, she only looked at him inquiringly. "I mean your kitten,” he continued; "it was playing with your knitting; and, though I picked it up as soon as I saw it, I fear it was too late to save it from a rather rough game." "Thank you, sir." Mrs. Reade had stayed at home for the baking, and Rettie was sent out with all the little ones "anywhere," to be out of the way. Mrs. Lister was better; the fever had left her some days ago; but the neighbours doubted whether she would get over it even now. She, however, was more hopeful for herself, and had sent in for the old man to go and read to her a little while this afternoon, so Mrs. Reade and Elsie were alone. They were both always glad when they could be together; for even if there was not much to talk about, it was pleasure enough for them to spend a few quiet hours undisturbed. Elsie was sitting in Grandfather's chair, which she The uneasiness which had been estab-had drawn to her own place near the open lished during the last two days made her manner still more reserved. They had now reached the end of the garden. "Are these any of the ferns you want?" and she drew aside the alder branch for him to look into the lode. 66 " lattice, busy with her knitting. She had on her brown working dress, and Rettie's little blue shawl was folded square over her shoulders. Her sleeve was turned up to the elbow; her round arm tapered to a hand that showed traces of hard work; but it was well-shaped, and its firm action "What a good contrivance you have for suited the massiveness of her figure. Her keeping them," he said, taking the branch hair had been gathered back as usual, but from her hand. My friend told me I should it was gradually creeping down; an evil find them in admirable order." Elsie that befel Elsie every day, and of which looked up for the first time quickly. "I her mother reminded her as regularly, on want them for Mr. Scholefield. You re- principle, though with secret pride in the member him, I daresay?" The delighted luxuriance which made prim neatness imsmile with which Elsie acknowledged this possible. Save for a golden gleam round surprised him a little. "How soon do her forehead, her head was in the shadow you think you can collect those I want? of the myrtle, now more thickly starred he asked, as he gave her a written list of with blossoms. The ball of worsted was them. put behind it, to be safe from the frolics of the kitten that, perched on the edge of the table a little way off, was fidgeting restlessly as it saw the thread rise and fall with the stitches, hoping that some happy chance might bring the coveted treasure rolling on the ground. Now and then it consoled itself with furtive attacks on a long spray of honeysuckle; but its efforts were not fortunate to-day, and Elsie did not take much notice of it either. The curtain was unhung from one side of the chimney, and thrown over the chair in the opposite corner. A quantity of dried gorse and wood was lying round the hearth; During all that evening, in the intervals and Mrs. Reade showed how little of her of her care of the children, she kept won-youthful agility she had lost, as she tripped "By the end of next week, I hope;" and she folded the paper in her hand. A few minutes after, little Dot was pressing her fat cheeks against the bars of the wicket, that she might get the last glimpse of the stranger as he disappeared down the lane. When he had gone, Elsie looked into the kitchen and said to her mother, "I think I'll go in next door and see Mrs. Lister." She was glad to have a few minutes to enjoy the relief from her suspense; so the short time of solitude even in that atmosphere was grateful to her. |