may perhaps more fully explain how this has been done. And blessed be the home which has turned back her wandering steps, has healed the wounds of her heart, and has offered her a peaceful haven, an affectionate defence, where she has time to rest after the storms, and to collect and to know herself. Without this home, without this influence, Petrea certainly might have become a witch, and not, as now, a tolerably reasonable person.

where live flowers, birds, and Gabriele. The | get into conceit, and then with various other morning would lose its sweetest charms, if du- things, as well within her as without her, and ring the same Gabriele's birds and flowers did for a long time it seemed as if her own world not play a part, and the evening twilight would would never come forth out of chaos. be duskier if it were not enlivened by Gabriele's "It has, however. With eyes full of grateful gutar and songs. Her flower-stand has ex-tears I will dare to say this, and some time I tended itself by degrees into an orangery-not large to be sure, but yet large enough to shelter a beautiful vine, which is now covered with grapes, and many beautiful and rare plants also, so as to present to the family a little Italy, where they may enjoy all, the charms of the south, in the midst of a northern winter. A covered way leads from the dwelling-house down into the orangery, and it is generally there that in vinter they take their afternoon coffee. The aviary is removed thither; and there upon a table covered with a green cloth, lie works on botany, together with the writings of the SweJish gardening society, which often contain such interesting articles. There stand two comfortable armed chairs, on which the most magnificent birds and flowers are worked, you can easily imagine for whom. There my mother sits gladly, and reads or looks at her 'little lady' (she never grows out of this appellation) as she tends her flowers in the sun, or plays with her tame birds. One may say, in fact, that Gabriele strews the evening of her mother's days with-what matters it? What matter if the eyeHovers.

"You know my present activity, which, while it conducts me deeper into life, discovers to me more beauty, more poetry than I had ever conceived of it in the dreams of my youth. Not merely from this cause, although greatly owing to it, a spring has begun to blossom for me on the other side of my thirty years, which, were it ever to wither, would be from my own fault. And if even still a painful tear may be shed over past errors or present faults; if the longing after what is yet unattainably better, purer, and brighter, may occasion many a pang,

water burn, so that the eye only become clear? if heaven humiliate, so that it only draws us upwards?

"A man dear to the Swedish heart has said, 'that the grand natural feature of northern life is a conquered winter,' and this applies equally "One of Petrea's means of happiness is, to to life individually, to family life, and to that of require very few of the temporal things of earth. individual persons. It so readily freezes and She regards such things as nearly related to the grows stiff, snow so readily falls upon the heart; family of illusions, and will, on that account, and winter makes his power felt as much within | have as little as possible to do with them. And as without the house. In order to keep it warm thus has she also the means of obtaining for herwithin, in order that life may flourish and bloom, self many a hearty and enduring pleasure. I it is needful to preserve the holy fire ever burn- will not, however, be answerable for her not ing. Love must not turn to ashes and die out; very soon being taken by a frenzy of giving a if it do, then all is labour and heaviness, and feast up in her garret, and thereby producing all one may as well do nothing but-sleep. But if kinds of illusions; such, for example, as the fire be borrowed from heaven, this will not hap-eating little cakes, the favourite illusion of my pen; then will house and heart be warm, and life bloom incessantly, and a thousand causes will become rich sources of joy to all. If it be so within the house-then may it snow without -then, winter, thou mayst do thy worst!

"But I return to Gabriele, whose lively wit and joyous temper, united to her affectionate and innocent heart, make her deservedly the favourite of her parents, and the joy of every one. She asserts continually her own good-fornothingness, her uselessness, and incorrigible love to a sweet 'far niente,' but nobody is of her opinion in this respect, for nobody can do without her, and one sees that when it is necessary, she can be as decided and as able as any one need be. It is now some time since Gabriele made any charades. I almost fancy that the cause of this is a certain Baron Rudger L., who was suspected for a long time of having set fire to a house, and who now is suspected of a design of setting fire to a heart, and who with certain words and glances has put all sorts of whims into her head-I will not say heart.

"And so then we have nothing bad to say of this here Petrea,' as one of the friends of the house calls her. This Petrea has had all kind of botherations in the world: in the first place with her own nose, with which she could not

mother, and citron-soufflé, the almost perfect earthly felicity of our eldest,' in which a reconciliation skäl with the frenzy-feast might be proposed to her beloved 'eldest.'

"If you would make a summa summarum of Petrea's state, it stands thus: that which was once a fountain of disquiet in her is now become a fountain of quiet. She believes in the truth of life. She does not allow her peace to be disturbed by accidental troubles, be they from within or from without; she calls them mist-clouds, passing storms, after which the sun will come forth again. And should her little garret tumble to pieces one of these days, she would regard even that as a passing misfortune, and hold herself ready, in all humility, to mount up yet a little higher.

"But enough of Petrea and her future ascension. One other daughter stlil dwelt in the family, and her lovely image lives still in the remembrance of all, but a mourning veil hangs over it; for she left home, but not in peace. She was not happy, and for many years her life is wrapped in darkness. People think that she is dead; her friends have long believed so, and mourned her as such; but one among them believes it not. I do not believe that she is dead. I have a strong presentiment that she will re

turn; and it would gladden me to show her how | My father has long wished to possess a particu dear she is to me. I have built plans for her future with us, and I expect her continually, or else a token where I may be able to find her; and be it in Greenland or in Arabia Deserta whence her voice calls me, I will find out a way to her.

lar piece of building land which adjoins our lit tle garden, in order to lay it out for a great and general advantage; but he has sacrificed so much for his children, that he has nothing remaining wherewith to carry out his favourite plan. His children in the mean time have, du"I would that I could now describe to you ring the last twelve years, laid by a sum togeththe aged pair, to whom all in the house look up er, and now have latterly borrowed what was with love and reverence, who soon will have wanting for the purchase of the land. On the been a wedded couple forty years, and who ap-father's seventieth birth-day, therefore, with the pear no longer able to live the one without the joint help of the Berserkers,' will the wooden other-but my pen is too weak for that. I will fence be pulled down, and the genius of the new only venture upon a slight outline sketch. My place, represented by the graceful figure of Gafather is nearly seventy years old-but do you briele, will deliver over to him the purchasethink he indulges himself with rest? He would deed, which is made out in his name. How be extremely displeased if he were to sleep any happy he will be! Oh, it makes us all happy to later in a morning than usual: he rises every think of it! How he will clear away, and dig, morning at six, it being deeply impressed upon and plant! and how it will gladden and refresh him to lose as little of life as possible. It is un- his old age. May he live so long that the trees pleasant to him that his declining sight compels which he plants may shake their leafy branches him now to less activity. He likes that we over his head, and may their rustling foretell should read aloud to him in an evening, and to him the blessing, which his posterity to the that-romances. My mother smilingly takes third and fourth generations will pronounce upon credit to herself for having seduced him to this his activity. kind of reading; and he confesses, with smiles, that it is really useful for old people, because it contributes to preserve the heart young. For the rest, he is in all respects equally, perhaps more, good, more noble-hearted than ever; and from that cause he is to us equally respect-in-a spiring and dear. O Ida, it is a happy feeling to be able intrinsically to honour and love those who have given us life!

"I would speak of the circle of friends which ever enclosed our home most cordially, of the new Governor Sternhok and his wife, whom we like so much, and whose removal here was particularly welcome to my father, who almost sees son in him. I would speak also of the ser vants of the house, who are yet more friends than servants—but I fear extending my letter to too great a length.

66

Perhaps you blame me secretly for painting my pictures in colours too uniformly bright; perhaps you will ask, 'Come there then not into this house those little knocks, disturbances, rubs, overhastinesses, stupidities, procrastinations, losses, and whatever those spiritual mosquitoes may be called, which occasion by their stings irritation, unquiet, and vexation, and whose visits the very happiest families cannot avoid?'

"And now must I, with a bleeding heart, throw a mournful shadow over the bright picture of the house, and that shadow comes at the same time from a beautiful image-from my mother! I fear, I fear she is on the way to leave us! Her strength has been declining for two years. She has no decided malady, but she becomes visibly weaker and feebler, and no remedy, as yet, has shown itself availing for her. They talk now of the air of next spring-of Selzer-water, and a summer-journey; my father would travel to the world's end with her; they hope with certainty that she will recover; she hopes so herself, and says she would gladly live with us—that she is happy with us, yet nevertheless there is a something about her, and even in her smiles, that tells me that she herself does not cherish full faith in the hope which she expresses. Ah! when I see daily her still paler countenance; the unearthly expression in her gentle features-when I perceive her ever-truth of the picture, come here and see for yourslower gait, as she moves about, still arranging the house and preparing little gratifications for her family; then comes the thought to me that she perhaps will soon leave us, and it sometimes is difficult to repress my tears.

But why should I thus despair? Why not hope like all the rest? Ah, I will hope, and particularly for the sake of him who, without her, could no more be joyful on earth. For the present, she is stronger and livelier than she has been for a long time. The arrival of Louise and her family have contributed to this, as also another day of joy which is approaching, and which has properly reference to my father. She goes about now with such joy of heart, with the almanac in her hand, and prepares every thing, and thinks of every thing for the joyful festival.

"Yes, certainly. They come, but they vanish as quickly as they come, and never leave a poisonous sting behind, because a universal remedy is employed against them, which is called 'Forgive, forgive, amend!' and which, the earlier applied the better, and which make also the visits of these fiends of rarer occurrence; they come, indeed, in pure and mild atmospheres never properly forth.

"Would you, dearest Ida, be convinced of the

self. We should all like it so much. Come, and let our house provide for you the divertisement, perhaps also the rest which is so needful to your heart. Come, and believe me, Ida, when one observes the world from somewhat of an elevation-as, for instance, a garret-one sees illusions like mist, passing over the earth, but above it heaven vaulting itself in eternal brightness"

CHAPTER II.

A MORNING HOUR.

"Good morning!" said Jeremias Munter, as with his pocket full of books, he entered Petrea's garret, which was distinguished from all other

rooms merely by its perfect simplicity and its | a people whose life will be to observe, to com lack of all ornament. A glass containing beautiful flowers was its only luxury.

"Oh, you are heartily welcome!" exclaimed Petrea, as she looked with beaming eyes on her visitor and on his valuable appendages. "Yes, to-day," said he, "I am of opinion that I am welcome! Here's a treat for Miss Petrea. Here, and here, and here !"

prehend, and to adore, revering their Creator in spirit and in truth. Then comes the day of which the angels sung 'Peace on earth!'"

"Peace on earth!" repeated Jeremias, in a slow and melancholy voice, "when comes it? It must first enter into the heart; and there, there live so many demons, so much disquiet and painful longing-but what-what is amiss now?"

So saying, the Assessor laid one book after another upon the table, naming, at the same time, their contents. They belonged to that" she lives she lives !" class of books which open new worlds to the eye of reflecting minds. Petrea took them up with a delight which can only be understood by such as have sought and thirsted after the same fountains of joy, and who have found them. The Assessor rejoiced quietly in her delight, as she looked through the books and talked about them.

Ah, my God!" exclaimed Petrea wildly, "What! her? who lives? No, really, Petrea, all is not right with you," said the Assessor, ri sing.

"How good, how cordially good of you," said Petrea, "to think about me. But you must see that I also have expected you to-day ;" and with eyes that beamed with the most heartfelt satisfaction, she took out of a cupboard two fine china plates, on one of which lay cakes of light wheaten bread, and on the other piled up the most magnificent grapes reposing amid a garland of their own leaves, which were tastefully arranged in various shades against the golden border of the plate. These Petrea placed upon a little table in the window, so that the sun shone upon them.

The Assessor regarded them with the eye of a Dutch fruit painter, and appeared to rejoice himself over a beautful picture after his own

manner.

"You must not only look at your breakfast, but you must eat it," said the lively Petrea; "the bread is home-baked, and-Eva has arranged the grapes on the plate and brought them up here."

"Eva!" said he, "now, she could not know that I was coming here to-day?"

"And precisely because she thought so ás well as me, would she provide your breakfast;" with these words Petrea looked archly at the Assessor, who did not conceal a pleasurable sensation-broke off a little grape, seated himself, and said nothing.

Petrea turned herself to her books: "Oh," said she, "why is life so short, when there is such an infinite deal to learn? Yet this is not right, and it evidences ignorance to imagine the time of learning limited; besides, this remark about the shortness of time and the length of art proceeds from the heathen writer Hippocra

tes.

But let us praise God for the hope, for the certainty, that we may be scholars to all eter nity. Ah, Mr. Munter, I rejoice myself heartily over the industrial spirit of our age! It will make it easy for the masses to clothe and feed themselves, and then will they begin also to live for mind. For true is that sentiment, which is about two thousand years old, When common needs are satisfied, man turns himself to what is more universal and exalted.' Thus, when the great week of the world is past, the Sabbath will commence, in which a people of quiet worshippers will spread themselves over the earth, no more striving after decaying treasures, but seeking after those which are eternal;

"See! see!" cried Petrea, trembling with emotion, and showing to the Assessor a torn piece of paper, "see, this lay in the book!"

"Well, what then? It is indeed torn from a sepia picture a hand strewing roses on a grave, I believe. Have I not seen this somewhere already?"

"Yes, certainly; yes, certainly! It is the girl by the rose-bush which I, as a child, gave to Sara! Sara lives! see, here has she written!"

The back of the picture seemed to have been scrawled over by a child's hand; but in one vacant spot stood these words, in Sara's own remarkably beautiful handwriting.

"No rose on Sara's grave!

Oh Petrea! if thou knew'st-" The sentence was unfinished, whilst several drops seemed to prove that it had been closed by tears. "these

"Extraordinary!" said the Assessor: books which I purchased yesterday were bought in U. Could she be there? But-"

Certainly! certainly she is there," exclaimed Petrea, "look at the book in which the picture lay-see, on the first page is the name, Sara Schwartz-although it has been erased. Oh! certainly she is in U., or there we can obtain intelligence of her! Oh, Sara, my poor Sara! She lives, but perhaps in want, in sor row! I will be with her to-day if she be in U. !" That, Miss Petrea will hardly manage," said the Assessor, "unless she can fly. It is one hundred and two (English) miles from here to U."

"Alas, that my father should at this time be absent, should have the carriage with him; otherwise he would have gone with me! But he has an old chaise, I will take it-"

"Very pretty, indeed," returned he, "for a lady to be travelling alone in an old chaise, especially when the roads are spoiled with rain; and see what masses of cloud are coming up with the south wind-you'll have soaking rain the whole day through in the chaise."

"And if it rain pokers," interrupted Petrea, warmly, "I must go. O heaven! she was indeed my sister, she is so yet, and she shall not call on me in vain! I will run down to my mother in this moment and-" Petrea took her bonnet and cloak in her hand.

"Calm yourself a little, Miss Petrea," he said, "I tell you, you could not travel in this way. The chaise would not hold together. Alas, I have tried it myself you could not go in it!"

"Now then," exclaimed Petrea determinately, "I will go; and if I cannot go I'll creep-bus go I will!"

The Assessor shuddered involuntarily at the sight of her, and remarked; "What a difference is there between woman and woman-the loveliest upon earth and the most horrible is yet-self with lively words and looks to her travelling woman!"

Sara, together with a little daughter, had been | which she had taken to entertain her old friend in the city, and had resided in the very inn in succeed so well. The two spent a pleasant which Petrea and the Assessor now were, al- evening together. They made each other muthough they travelled under a foreign name.tually acqainted with the evil omens and the She was described as being in the highest de- impressions which they had occasioned, and gree weak and sickly; and, as might be expect- bantered one another a little thereon; but deed in her circumstances, it appeared that she had cided positively that such fore-tokenings for the besought the host to sell some books for her, most part-betoken nothing at all. which he had done. One of these books it was which, with its forgotten mark, had fallen into the hand of Petrea. Sara, on account of her debility, had been compelled to remain several days in that place, but she had been gone from there probably a week; and they saw by the Day-book* that it had been her intention to proceed thence to an inn which lay on the road to Petrea's native place; not, however, on the road by which they had travelled to U., but upon one which was shorter, although much worse.

Sara then also was on her way home, yes, perhaps, might be there already. This thought was an indescribable consolation for Petrea's heart, which, from the account she had received of Sara's condition, was anxious in the highest degree. But when she thought on the long time which had passed since Sara's journey from the city, she was filled with anxiety, and feared that Sara might be ill upon the road.

Willingly would Petrea have turned back again on the same evening to seek out traces of Sara; but care for her old friend prevented her from doing more than speaking of it. The Assessor, indeed, found himself unwell, and required rest. The cold and wet weather had operated prejudicially upon him, both mind and body. It was adopted as unquestionable that they could not continue the journey till the following morning.

As they separated for the night the Assessor pressed Petrea's hand with the assurance that very rarely had a day given him such a joyous evening. Grateful for these words, and grateful for the hope of soon finding again the lost and wept friend of her youth, Petrea went to rest, but the Assessor remained up late-midnight saw him still writing.

Man and woman! There is a deal, especially in romances, said about man and woman, as of separate beings. However that may be, human beings are they both-and as human beings, as morally sentient and thinking creatures, they influence one another for life. Their ways and manners, their gifts, are different; and it is this very difference which, by mutual benefits, and mutual endeavours to sweeten life to one another, produces what is so beautiful and so perfect.

The clearest sun brightened the following morning; but the eyes of the Assessor were troubled, as if they had enjoyed but little repose. Whilst he and Petrea were breakfasting, he was called out to inspect something relative to the carriage.

Was it now the hereditary sin of mother Eve, or was it any other cause which induced Petrea at this moment to approach the table on which the Assessor's money lay, together with papers ready to be put into a travelling writing-case. Enough! she did it-she did certainly what no The Assessor had told Petrea that this was upright reader will pardon her for doing, quickly his birthday, and perhaps it was this thought ran her eyes over one of the papers which seemwhich caused him to be uncommonly melancholy ed just lately to have received from the pen imthe whole day. Petrea, who was infinitely depressions of thought, and-took it. Shortly sirous of cheering him, hastened, whilst he was gone out to seek an acquaintance, to prepare a little festival for his return.

With flowers and foliage which Petrea obtained, heaven knows how!-but when people are resolutely bent on anything they find out the means to do it--with these then, with lights, a good fire, with a table covered with his favourite dishes and such like, although in a somewhat disagreeable public-house room, such a picture of comfort and pleasantness was presented as the Assessor much loved.

Fathers and mothers, and all the members of happy families, are accustomed to birthday festivals, flower-garlands, and well-covered tables; but nobody had celebrated the birthday of the Assessor during his solitary wandering; he had not been indulged with those little flower-surprises of life-if one may so call them; hence it happened that he entered from the dark, wet street into this festal room with an exclamation of astonishment and heartfelt pleasure.

Petrea, on her part, was inexpressibly cordial, and was quite happy when she saw the pains

A Day-book (Dagbok) is kept at every inn in Sweden. The name of every traveller who takes thence horses, and the name of the next town to which he proceeds, are entered in it; and thus, when on the trace, nothing could be easier than to discover such a traveller. The Day-book is rewed each month.-M. H.

afterwards the Assessor entered, and as it was somewhat late, he hastily put together his papers, and they set off on their journey.

The weather was glorious, and Petrea rejoiced like-nay, even more than a child, over the objects which met her eyes, and which, after the rain, stood in the bright sunshine, as if in the glory of a festive-day. The world was to her now more than ever a magic ring; not the perplexing, half-heathenish, but the purely Christian, in which every thing, every moment has its signification, even as every dewdrop receives its beaming point of light from the splendour of the sun. Autumn was, above all, Petrea's favourite season, and its abundance now made her soul overflow with joyful thoughts. It is the time in which the earth gives a feast to all her children, and joyous and changing scenes were represented by the way-sides. Here the corn-field raised to heaven its golden sheaves, and the harvesters sang; there, around the purple berries of the service-tree circled beautiful flocks of the twittering silktails; round the solitary huts, the flowering potatoe-fields told that the fruit was ripe, and merry little barefooted children sprang into the wood to gather bilberries. Petrea thanked heaven in her heart for all the innocent joys of earth. She thought of her home, of her parents, of her sisters, of Sara, who would soon again be one of their circle, and of how she