THE MYSTERIOUS WEDDING A DANISH STORY-BY HENRY STEFFENS. Ń the north-west of Zealand stretches a small fertile peninsula, studded with hamlets, and connected with the main land by a narrow strip of waste ground. Beyond the only town which this little peninsula possesses, the land runs out into the stormy Cattegat, and presents an awfully wild and sterile appearance. The living sands have here obliterated every trace of vegetation; and the hurricanes which blow from all points of the ocean are constantly operating a change on the fluctuating surface of the desert, whose hills of sand rise and fall with a motion as incessant as that of the waves which roar around them. In traveling through this country, I spent upwards of an hour in this district, and never shall I forget the impression which the scene made upon my mind. While riding along through the desolate region, a thunder storm rose over the ocean towards the north-the waves roared-the clouds scudded along in gloomy masses before the wind-the sky grew every instant more dark, "menacing earth and sea"-the sand began to move in increasing volumes under my horse's feet, a whirlwind arose and filled the atmosphere with dust, the traces of the path became invisible-while air, earth, and ocean seemed mingled and blended together, every object being involved in a cloud of dust and vapor. I could not discern the slightest trace of life or vegetation around the dismal scene-the storm roared above me-the waves of the sea lashed mournfully against the shore-the thunder rolled in the distance-and scarcely could the lurid lightning-flash pierce the heavy cloud of sand which whirled around me. My danger became evident and extreme; but a sudden shower of rain laid the sand, and enabled me to push my way to the little town. The storm I had just encountered was a horrid mingling of all elements. An earthquake has been described as the sigh which troubled nature heaves from the depth of her bosom; perhaps not more fancifully might this chaotic tempest have typified the confusion of a widely distracted mind, to which pleasure and even hope itself have been long strangers-the cheerless desert of the past revealing only remorse and grief-the voice of conscience threatened like the thunder, and her awful anticipations casting a lurid light over the gloomy spirit-till at last the long sealed-up sources of tears open away for their floods, and bury the anguish of the distracted soul beneath their waves. In this desolate country there existed in former times a village called Roerwig, about a mile distant from the shore. The moving sands have now buried the village; and the descendants of its inhabitants-mostly shepherds and fishermen have removed their cottages close to the shore. A single solitary building, situated upon a hill, yet tears its head above the cheerless shifting desert. This building-and the village churchwas the scene of the following mysterious transaction: In an early year of the last century, the venerable curé of Roerwig was one night seated in his study, absorbed in pious meditations. His house lay at the extremity of the village, and the simple manners of the inhabitants were so little tinged with distrust, that bolts and locks were unknown among them, and every door remained open and unguarded. The lamp burned gloomily, and the sullen silence of the midnight hour was only interrupted by the rushing noise of the sea, on whose waves the pale moon shone reflected, when the curé heard the door below opened, and the next moment the sound of men's steps on the stair. He was anticipating a call to administer the last offices of religion to some parishioners on the point of death, when two foreigners, wrapped up in white cloaks, entered the room. One of them, approaching, addressed him with politeness: "Sir you will have the goodness to follow us instantly. You must perform a marriage ceremony; the bride and bridegroom are already waiting your arrival at the church. And this sum," here the stranger held out a purse full of gold, "will sufficiently recompense you for the trouble, and the alarm our sudden demand has given you." The curé stared in mute terror upon the strangers, who seemed to carry something fearfulalmost ghastly in their looks, and the demand was repeated in an earnest and authoritative tone. When the old man had recovered from his surprise, he began mildly to represent that his duty did not allow him to celebrate so solemn a rite without some knowledge of the parties, and the intervention of those formalities required by law. The other stranger hereupon stept forward in a menacing attitude; "sir," said he, "you have your choice; follow us and take the sum we now offer you-or remain, and this bullet goes through your head." Whilst speaking, he leveled his pistol at the forehead of the venerable man, and coolly waited his answer; whereupon the curé rose, dressed himself, and informed his visitantswho had hitherto spoken Danish, but with a foreign accent-that he was ready to accompany them. a corpse-her features unanimated-her lips were blanched, her eyes dimmed-and her arms hung motionless at her side as she kneeled before the altar; terror seemed to have wrapped her consciousness as well as her vital powers in deep lethargy. The curé now discovered near him an old ugly hag, in a parti-colored dress, with a blood-red expression of malignant fury on the kneeling bride; and behind the bridegroom, he noticed a man of gigantic size and a gloomy appearance, whose eyes were fixed immoveably on the ground. The mysterious strangers now proceeded silently | in her features, although despair now expressed through the village, followed by the clergyman. itself in them-her cheeks were pale as those of It was a dark autumn night, the moon having set; but when they emerged from the village, the old man perceived with terror and astonishment, that the distant church was all illumined. Meanwhile his companions, wrapped up in their white cloaks, strode hastily on before them through the barren plain. On reaching the church they bound up his eyes; he then heard a side door open with a well known creaking noise, and felt himself violently turban on her head, who stood gazing with an pushed into a crowd of people whose murmuring he heard all around him, while close beside him some persons carried on a conversation in a language quite unknown to him, but which he thought was Russian. As he stood helpless and blindfolded, he felt himself seized upon by a man's hand, and drawn violently through the crowd. At last the bandage was removed from his eyes, and he found himself standing with one of the two strangers before the altar. A row of large tapers, in magnificent silver candlesticks, adorned the altar, and the church itself was splendidly lighted up by a profusion of candles. The deepest silence now reigned through the whole building, though the side passages and all the seats were crowded to excess; but the middle passage was quite clear, and he perceived in it a newly dug grave, with the stone which had covered it leaning against a bench. Around him were only male figures, but on one of the distant benches he thought he perceived a female form. The terrible silence lasted for some minutes, during which not a motion could be detected in the vast assembly. Thus when the mind is bent on deeds of darkness, a silent gloomy brooding of soul often precedes the commission of the horrid action. At last a man, whose magnificent dress distinguished him from all the rest, and bespoke his elevated rank, rose and walked hastily up to the altar; as he passed along, his steps resounded through the building, and every eye was turned upon him; he appeared to be of middle stature, with broad shoulders and strong limbs-his gait was commanding, his complexion of a yellowish brown, and his hair raven black-his features were severe, and his lips compressed as if in wrath a bold aquiline nose heightened the haughty appearance of his countenance, and dark shaggy brows lowered over his fiery eyes. He wore a green coat, with broad gold braids, and a briliant star. The bride, who also approached, and kneeled beside him at the altar, was magnificently dressed. A sky blue rose, richly trimmed with silver, enveloped her slender limbs and floated in large folds over her graceful form-a diadem sparkling with diamonds, adorned her fair hairthe utmost loveliness and beauty might be traced Horror struck by the scene before him, the priest stood mute for sometime, till a thrilling look from the bridegroom reminded him of the ceremony he had come hither to perform. But the uncertainty whether the couple he was about to marry understood his language, afforded him a fresh source of uneasiness. He ventured, however, to ask the bridegroom for his name and that of his bride! 'Neander and Feodora," was the answer returned in a rough voice. The priest now began to read the ritual in faltering accents, frequently stopping to repeat the words, without however either the bride or bridegroom appearing to observe his confusion, which ̧ confirmed him in the conjecture that his language was almost unknown to either of them. On putting the question, "Neander wilt thou have this woman for thy wedded wife?" he doubted whether he should receive any answer; but to his astonishment, the bridegroom answered in the affirmative with a loud and almost screaming voice, which rung throughout the church, while deep sighs were heard from every quarter of the building, and a silent quivering like the reflection of distant lightning, threw a transitory motion over the death pale features of the bride. When the priest turned to her with the interrogatory: "Feodora, wilt thou have this man for thy wedded husband ?” the lifeless form before him seemed to awake, a deep convulsive throb of terror trembled on her cheeks-her pale lips quivered—a passing gleam of fire shone in her eye-her breast heaved-a violent gush of tears flooded the brilliance of her eyes, and the "yes" was pronounced like the scream of anguish uttered by a dying person, and seemed to find a deep echo in the sounds of grief which burst from the surrounding multitude. The bride then sank into the arms of the horrid old hag, and after some minutes had passed in awful silence, the pale corpse-like female kneeled again, as if in a deep trance, and the ceremony was finished. The bridegroom now rose and led away the trembling bride, followed by the tall man and |