Ekkehard now let himself down. He waved his hand once more, then disappeared from her sight. The stillness of night was interrupted by a rattling and clattering down the cliff. The Greek girl peered down into the depths. A piece of rock had become loosened, and fell noisily down into the valley. Another followed somewhat slower; and on this Ekkehard was sitting, guiding it as a rider does his horse. So he went down the steep precipice into the blackness of the night.

Farewell!

She crossed herself and went back, smiling in spite of all her sadness. The lay brother was still fast asleep. As she crossed the court-yard, Praxedis spied a basket filled with ashes, which she seized; and softly stealing back to Ekkehard's dungeon, she poured out its contents in the middle of the room, as if this were all that was left of the prisoner's earthly remains.

"Why dost thou snore so heavily, most reverend brother?" she asked; and hurried away.

SONG: FAREWELL.

(From "The Trumpeter of Säkkingen.")

THIS is the bitterness of life's long story,

That ever near the rose the thorns are set;
Poor heart, that dwells at first in dreams of glory,
The parting comes, and eyes with tears are wet.
Ah, once I read thine eyes, thy spirit's prison,
And love and joy in their clear depths could see:
May God protect thee ! 't was too fair a vision;
May God protect thee! it was not to be.

Long had I borne with envy, hate, and sorrow,
Weary and worn, by many a tempest tried;
I dreamed of peace and of a bright to-morrow,
And lo! my pathway led me to thy side.
I longed within thine arms to rest; then, risen
In strength and gladness, give my life to thee:
May God protect thee! 't was too fair a vision;
May God protect thee! it was not to be.

Winds whirl the leaves, the clouds are driven together,
Through wood and meadow beats a storm of rain:

To say farewell 't is just the fitting weather,

For like the sky, the world seems gray with pain.

Yet good nor ill shall shake my heart's decision; Thou slender maid, I still must dream of thee! May God protect thee! 't was too fair a vision May God protect thee! it was not to be.

SONGS OF HIDDIGEIGEI, THE TOM-CAT. (From "The Trumpeter of Säkkingen.”)

I.

By the storms of fierce temptation
Undisturbed I long have dwelt;
Yet e'en pattern stars of virtue
Unexpected pangs have felt.

Hotter than in youth's hot furnace,
Dreams of yore steal in apace;
And the Cat's winged yearnings journey,
Unrestrained, o'er Time and Space.

Naples, land of light and wonder,
Cup of nectar never dry!

To Sorrento I would hasten,

On its topmost roof to lie.

Greets me dark Vesuvius; greets me
The white sail upon the sea;
Birds of spring make sweetest concert
In the budding olive-tree.

Toward the loggia steals Carmela,-
Fairest of the feline race,

And she softly pulls my whiskers,
And she gazes in my
face;

And my paw she gently presses;-
Hark! I hear a growling noise:
Can it be the Bay's hoarse murmur,
Or Vesuvius's distant voice?

Nay, Vesuvius's voice is silent,
For to-day he takes his rest.
In the yard, destruction breathing,
Bays the dog of fiendish breast, —

Bays Francesco the Betrayer,
Worst of all his evil race;
And I see my dream dissolving,
Melting in the sky's embrace.

II.

Earth once was untroubled by man, they say: Those days are over and fled,

When the forest primeval crackling lay 'Neath the mammoth's mighty tread.

Ye may search throughout all the land in vain
For the lion, the desert's own;

In sooth we are settled now, 't is plain,
In a truly temperate zone.

The palm is borne, in life and in verse,
By neither the Great nor the Few:
The world grows weaker and ever worse,
'Tis the day of the Small and the New.

When we Cats are silenced, ariseth the Mouse,
But she too must pack and begone;

And the Infusoria's Royal House

Shall triumph, at last, alone.

III.

Near the close of his existence
Hiddigeigei stands and sighs;
Death draws nigh with fell insistence,
Ruthlessly to close his eyes.

Fain from out his wisdom's treasure
Counsels for his race he'd draw,
That amid life's changeful measure
They might find some settled law.

Fain their path through life he'd soften:
Rough it lies and strewn with stones;
E'en the old and wise may often

Stumble there, and break their bones.

Life with many brawls is cumbered,
Useless wounds and useless pain;
Cats both black and brave unnumbered
Have for naught been foully slain.

Ah, in vain our tales of sorrow!
Hark! I hear the laugh of youth.
Fools to-day and fools to-morrow,

Woe alone will teach them truth.

All in vain is history's teaching:
Listen how they laugh again!
Hiddigeigei's lore and preaching
Locked in silence must remain.

IV.

Soon life's thread must break and ravel;
Weak this arm, once strong and brave;
In the scene of all my travail,

In the granary, dig my grave.

Yet once more, in days far distant,
When at rest I long have lain,
One fierce caterwaul insistent

Through your ranks shall ring again:

"Flee, ye fools, from worse than ruin !"
Hark to Hiddigeigei's cry;

Hark, his wrathful ghostly mewing:-
"Flee from mediocrity!"

POL. XVIII.—11

EDMOND HENRI ADOLPHE SCHERER.

SCHERER, EDMOND HENRI ADOLPHE, a French essayist and critic of celebrity; born at Paris, April 8, 1815; died at Versailles, March 16, 1889. He entered upon the course of the Faculty of Theology at Strasbourg, where celebrated professors were among the instructors. When his theological studies were over, he retired for several years, and published his first writings. Owing to the reputation thus achieved, he was elected in 1845 professor in the School of Liberal Theology at Geneva. The instruction he gave at that time had no small renown. But one of the fundamental doc. trines of the School of Liberal Theology was faith in the full inspiration of the Bible. He soon declared himself unable to accept it, and spoke of resigning his chair. In his remarkable article, the "Crisis of the Faith," he protested against the abuse of authority in religious things, and affirmed the duty of personal examination, of unrestricted investigation, of religion founded on criticism. He first attracted general attention in 1860 with a volume entitled "Miscel lanies of Religious Criticism," containing studies of Joseph de Maistre, Lamennais, Le P. Gratry, Veuillot, Taine, Proudhon, Renan, and others. He has also written "Criticism and Belief” (1850); "Letters to my Pastor" (1853); "Miscellanies of Religious Criti cism" (1860); "Miscellanies of Religious History" (1864); etc.

THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

(From Review of "Woman in the Eighteenth Century," by the Goncourts.) THIS volume on the woman of the eighteenth century is to be followed by three others, dealing with man, the State, and Paris at the same epoch. To say truth, however, the woman is already the man, she is already the State itself, she is the whole century. The most striking characteristic of the period under consideration is, that it personifies itself in its women. This the brothers Goncourt have recognized. "The soul of this time," say they in their somewhat exuberant style, "the centre of the world, the point whence everything radiates, the summit whence all descends, the image after which all things