*According to Baird and Girard, Catalogue of the Reptiles of the United States.]

sylvatica.

horiconensis ?

versicolor.

*The Cottus is quite abundant in our cold streams, and offers the characteristics of at least two species as given in the best monograph; but these differences may be the result of age or sex.

Since writing the above, specimens have been submitted to Dr. Jeffries Wyman of Cambridge, who writes: "They have been compared with those in Prof Agassiz's collection, and prove to be the cottus viscosus, which is synonymous with C. gobio of Ayers, C. gracilis of Heckel, and Uranoidea quiescens of De Kay."

↑ If we have not two species of trout, then the S. fontalis presents a great variety of appearances. Some have been taken in the river weighing four pounds. The Baione fontalis of Dekay is found here. This probably is the young of the S. fontalis. It is so regarded by Professor Agassiz. It has none of the red spots of the trout, and the fry of the trout is sometimes found perfectly marked, smaller than the Baione. This, with several of our small species, needs careful study.

Those not found in Gould's Report, are, according to Binney, (Terrestrial Moleusks and shells of the United States.)

THE NIEBELUNGENLIED.

CONCLUDED FROM PAGE 257.

As soon as they have reached the boundaries of Hungary, and spent their first night in tents on that foreign soil, the old Hildebrand, Dietrich's vassal, learns of their arrival, and hastens to announce it to his master Dietrich, with his faithful band, the Wolfskins, mount their steeds and go to meet the strangers. Hagen sees him from a distance, and cries— "rise, noble kings and lords from your seats, yonder comes a royal retinue; they are the swift heroes of the Amalungs, he of Bern is their leader." And the Burgundian Kings rose up before the mighty Theodoric and his band, who now dismount and come to meet them.

"All welcome, Gunther, Gernot and Giselher, welcome Hagen, Folker and Dankwart; know you not that Kriemhild weeps bitterly yet for the hero of the land of the Niebelungs?" "She may," answers Hagen in grim, insolent defiance, "she may weep as long as she will; he has lain dead many a year; she may cling to her Hungarian husband; Sigfried will never come again, he was buried long ago."

"How Sigfried received his death-wound," replies the Gothic king with earnestness, "we will not further inquire; it is enough, that as long as Frau Kriemhild lives, some great evil is imminent. Do you Hagen, especially, guard yourself from it." And in secret conversation with the Burgundian kings, Dietrich says more definitely, that he, although he knows of no settled plan of vengeance, yet knows this much, that every morning Etzel's wife raises loud complaints to the great God in Heaven for the murdered life of the valiant Sigfried.

"It cannot be helped," answers Folker, the bold and joyful minstrel, "let us journey on to Etzel's court, and await what shall befall us among the Huns."

And now the news of the arrival of the Burgundian host is carried to the camp and court of the Hungarian king; Etzel and Kreimhild go to the window to see them enter; then appear in the distance the well

"Those are my

known Burgundian escutcheons and eagle helmets. relatives," cries Kriemhild, "he who will now look tamely on, let him

think of my injury."

The Huns crowd around in order to see pass the terrible Hagen of Tronei, who had slain Sigfried of the Netherlands, the mightiest of heroes, Frau Kriemhild's first husband. He rides upon a lofty steed, that dark-browed, fear-inspiring hero, great of person, and flashing his dark angry eye on the spectators far and near, strong as iron in his breast and shoulders, his hair mingled with gray, and the lines of his face dark and stern. He dismounts and steps up to Dietrich, who here also bids him welcome.

Then Etzel [Attila] asks from the window, "who is that mighty hero who stands yonder near Dietrich ?" And an old Burgundian, who had come into the country with Kriemhild, answers: "It is he of Tronei. Aldrian was his father, he seems very gentle now with Dietrich, but he is a man of grimest courage." And the king remembers the times long past when Aldrian too, had been at his court, and Hagen and Walter of Wasichenstein, had practised with him, himself then a youth, joyous knightly exercises. Bloodiest reality was now to take the place of those joyful, youthful sports.

The crowd of inferior nobility with the servants, were lodged in a vineyard and put under the care and commands of Dankwart; the higher nobility go with the kings to the court of Attila's palace. In the crowd in the inner court of the castle, Hagen finds Folker, and in the conviction that everything is now hastening to a bloody end, those two boldest heroes of the Burgundian host knit together the death-alliance; before one of the buildings of the palace they sit down upon a stone bench, while the Huns stand around looking at the two mighties in astonished but reverent silence. Also Kriemhild sees from her window her mortal enemy sitting there, as it were, in her presence, and she breaks out into angry tears, and to the question of her attendants, what agitates her, she answers by beseeching her faithful vassals to take vengeance for the great sorrow which Hagen had caused her. Sixty men arose in order to slay Hagen and Folker, and at the head of this number Kriemhild herself, encircled by the royal crown, descends into the court to draw from Hagen's own mouth a confession of his murderous deed, as a testimony for her train. "He is so bold and insolent," said she, "he will not deny it, and then whatever may happen to him will result from his own confession."

66

Folker draws Hagen's attention to the armed band descending the steps, and the latter cries out, glowing with anger and battle courage, "I know well that all this concerns me alone, yet before those there, I could ride back unharmed to Burgundy. But Folker, tell me, will you stand by me in this hot conflict in faithful love, as I shall stand by you ?” "So long as I shall live," is Folker's answer; and though all the heroes of the Huns should attack us alone, I will not go a foot's breath from you." "God reward you, noble Folker-what need I more? Let them come on, those armed minions," said Hagen. And this faithful alliance of friendship between Folker and Hagen, which continues now through the whole coming contest, pours into our hearts a drop of tender reconciliation with the fearful man who would otherwise seem to us al

most monstrous.

scorn.

At this moment Kriemhild steps up to the two men. Folker bethinks himself to rise before the Queen, but Hagen keeps sitting in stern defiance, that no one may suppose that he fears. Yet with this insolent contempt of good manners, he fiercely connects a second, a far more insolent He lays across his knee, just as Kriemhild comes up, a gleaming sword, on whose jeweled hilt an emerald, greener than the grass, shone forth. It was Sigfried's sword, the famous legendary Balmung. Kriemhild recognized it at once. There were the golden hangings, the sheath wrought with red, which she had so often seen on Sigfried's side. For six and twenty years her grief had not been so aroused as now. Frightfully was the wound torn open by him who had first, given it. Close to the feet of the defiant, still seated hero, Kriemhild steps and offers him friendy greeting. "Who sent after you, Sir Hagen, that you should come hither? You know well what you have done to me." "No one sent after me," answers Hagen, "three kings have been invited hither, they are my masters, I their vassal; where they are there am I.” "Yet you know," continues Kriemhild, "why I hate you. You have slain Sigfried, and on that account I have to weep till my dying day." "What's the use of parleying," shouts the grim Hagen, "yes, I Hagen, I slew Sigfried the mighty, because Frau Kriemhild insulted the beautiful Brunhild. Avenge it-now he who will; I confess I have done you great injury."

Thus was the war for life and death declared, "but it did not immediately begin. The sixty Huns who surround Kriemhild, do not venture to attack the two German heroes who sit there before them; the grim Hagen with Sigfried's sword, and the bold minstrel, Folker, with his