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could only seek the love of one who would not scorn to be a peasant's daughter.

"Was it not well for us both, Annette, that that confidence was interrupted? Subsequent events proved how unnecessary it wasproved how loath you were to be a peasant's daughter-how loath you would be to be the wife of a peasant's son. When I heard that you, too, were a peasant's daughter, I rejoiced, for I thought our parents were equals. But I soon found - pardon me, still too dear Annette, it is with pain to myself I write the words—I found you denied, were ashamed of your own parents, despised your own mother! And I had hoped-blinded as I was by love-that you would honor, love, respect mine, even as I do myself.

you to think of you often, to pray for your good, and to desire, truly and fervently, that you may make another man happier than, I am now at last persuaded, you could have HJALMAR." made me.

The lead had sunk deep, very deep; its weight was well-nigh insupportable in the heart of the poor silvered spoon. The furnace was ready.

Hjalmar received two lines in return for his long letter. They were these:

VIII. LIEUTENANT HJALMAR'S LETTER. "BELOVED ANNETTE-For the first, the last time, permit me to call you so my beloved. Yes, even now, are you truly, deeply beloved. But I write, not to ask you to return my love, not to ask you to be my own- my wife. That I can never do. Yet it may console you to know, that one heart has beat for you alone with emotions such as those which now almost overpower my reason and my purpose. Annette, I love you, passionately love you; but I love others also. I love and reverence the parents who watched over my childhood, who made my boyhood happy, who toiled hard to supply me with the means of improvement and advancement in my youth, who rejoice now with honest pride over the "Now, then, still beloved girl, it only reprospects of my manhood. These parents, mains for me to bid you an everlasting fareAnnette, are humble, hard-working, but in- well. I have promised myself never volundependent peasants. Education and circum-tarily to see you again; but I can promise stances have raised me above them in the world's estimation, but not in my own; yet I also feel they have made a distinction between us; I feel — perhaps I should blush to say it that good, estimable, worthy of love as she is, I could not choose for my wife a woman so plain, so unaccomplished, as is my own mother. I own this; yet I truly honor and love my mother; and never would I marry the most refined, the most charming of women, who could not do so likewise. How often have I gazed on you, Annette, when this thought has been in my mind, when I have been asking myself, could she despise my homely, humble parents? Would she feel ashamed of her husband's being a peasant's son? Ah, Annette, if such were your disposition, all your beauty, all your charms, even that sweet simplicity which at times at times only was apparent, and had so much fascination for all, all would be vain! Yes, so have I been thinking, when you have raised those pretty eyes, and I have seen that you felt the earnestness of my regards, and were perplexed by it. And when you have looked up so, I have forgotten all but my love. Again we have met; and some proof of vanity, love of the world, of its opinions and fashions, awoke my slumbering fears. At last love became too strong for silence, but not too strong for fear. I then resolved to trust in your sincerity, to speak to you of my own position, and to confide in the integrity of your nature, when, as I hoped, you should reveal to me something of your own heart in return. The moment for such confidence offered itself at one time when I was most off my guard. You know, however, how it was interrupted; but you never knew till now my motive in seeking it. It was not to declare my love; not to solicit yours; not to ask you to be my wife; but to let you know what my wife must be to let vou know that I was a peasant's son, and

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Only by one word you wrong me. That word is despised.' I have not despised my mother.' ANNA."

"Anna?" said Hjalmar to himself, as, in spite of all his resolutions, he kissed the billet; "her name is Annette."

IX. TWO YEARS AFTER.

Two more years have passed. Two years can bring a good many changes - these two as well as any others. One or two of the changes we shall now mention. The first is a military one. The successor of sainted Weinberg, as captain of a land-regiment, is now a sainted somebody else to another mourning widow; and his official place is supplied by Lieutenant Hjalmar, who has for some two or three months been in possession of the

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Kapten's Boställe"* in the same northern district. In Sweden, there is a sort of standing militia kept up, the soldiers and officers of which have land and houses for their pay

they unite the offices of farmers and soldiers. The navy also is supplied in the same way; and the men, who are liable at any time to be called on to serve in it, have their

* Boställe—that is, the house and land allotted by government.

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evening meal; the large logs crackled and sparkled on the open hearth, their blaze danced in the many windows, and through the open door revealed an inviting scene to the wet and weary pedestrian, who came slowly over the soft grass that lay between the house and lake. In this region, during summer-time, the words spoken of a better land may apply: "There is no night there.' The light is not like that of the sun, nor yet of the moon: it is something between both a light of poetry and dreaminess. But this evening a torrent of rain drew the mountain mists into the pretty vale, and the unusual gloom without rendered the interior of the red wooden-house more distinct, lighted up as it was by the blazing logs on the elevated brick hearth, while it concealed the person of the spy who, with the top of his stick pressed hard on his lips, stood seemingly breathless at the porch.

allotted dwellings on the coasts. A captain's boställe, or farm-house, is an object of no small ambition to an under-officer. A man so young as Hjalmar still was, might account himself peculiarly fortunate in attaining such a snug position. We shall look in at him now, and see what he is about in the Kapten's boställe. He is, at this present writing, sitting in the porch before his door, after dinner, engaged-notwithstanding his many virtues, we must confess it-in smoking. But no man is perfect. Kapten Hjalmar's eyes are 80 intently fixed on the vacant seat of the porch opposite to him, that one might imagine he is meditating the practicability of having a vis-à-vis in his delightful occupation; but men do look so uninteresting when they are puffing smoke in each other's faces- and the Swedes do so with such polite complacency that I own I would rather see the other seat of that pretty porch occupied by some one who would prohibit the practice He saw the kitchen was occupied only by altogether. Whether the solitary Kapten two women - an old and a young one. knows what passes in his observer's thoughts first was preparing the supper; the girl was or not, he appears to act somewhat in ac- sitting at the spinning-wheel an implement cordance with those thoughts; he rises, which, banished from other lands, finds refuge throws away the half-smoked cigar, as if re- and employment in almost every Swedish solving never to smoke another: the move- home; the small hands and little foot were ment is so energetic, that he must be taking quite busily at work; but the pleasant hum a resolution; and he goes into his house, calls stopped, and, looking towards the old woman the active young woman who, with her hus- as she bent over the hearth, the spinner reband, forms its sole establishment-and tell-plied to what had been said: "Yes, mother, ing her he is going northward to hunt, and it was hard, very hard at first, for you see [ will not be back for some days, slings a knap- was not used to it; I had forgotten all the sack over his shoulder, takes his stick in his old ways, and I had learned a heap of things, hand, and sets out towards the distant moun- and a great many habits, that were just of no tains, whose heads rise above the dark fore-use up here; and then, ack! yes, moth ground of forest lying between them and knows one must think sometimes; and perhim. haps I was a little dull, and seemed not quite as if I were at home here but that goes better now."

Captain Hjalmar is by no means a flighty or inconsiderate person; he said he was going to hunt a horse is not required for that in Sweden, but a gun or dogs usually are, and Hjalmar has neither. In fact, a letter, which the Stockholm post brought him two hours previously, appeared to be more a necessary accompaniment to his hunting expedition than either of these; it was a mere lengthy scrawl from a brother-officer, who sent him the gossip of the capital to amuse his solitude. A Swede seldom thinks of riding except for a half-hour's gallop, just to tire a horse, and bring him in again. It answered the captain's purpose to go on foot, rather than to take his gig; but it was a tedious walk, more especially as, towards the close of the following day, a torrent of rain commenced. Evening had drawn on when he emerged from the gloom of the monotonous fir-forest, close to the banks of a pretty lake, On the opposite side stood a comfortable-looking red wooden house, at the back and one side of which were seen all the evidences of a tolerably thriving farm. The fire had been just kindled to dress the

The

"My heart's child!" said the mother, "thou hast always been good and kind, and clever too; and, going or staying, thou shalt have thy mother's blessing."

"But, mother, now that Anders is married, thou wilt not live here longer I think. Thou wilt come with me, mother, where I can do more than I can do here; I will work for thee then, and thou shalt rest."

"Ah, child dear, I thank thee-heartily do I thank thee; but see now, my girl, how this is: -Your sainted father brought me here when we first married; he was a good man to me, and a good father too. He died here, dear, and was buried not so very far off, in the parish church-yard. Now, if our Lord so please, I will die here too, and will be buried with him, where he lies in our church-yard and so will I therefore live out my days here also,”

Then I will stay here too, mother-stay till God takes you to heaven," said the girl, and bent her head on the spindle, pressing

her cheek on its soft burden, perhaps to wipe off a tear.

"God's peace!" said a rather husky voice, entering the door, with a salutation not yet quite out of fashion among the countryfolk of Sweden.

The old woman looked up to return it, and utter the customary word to the guest; "Be welcome." But the young one uttered a low cry, sprang forward, and Hjalmar's arms caught her to his breast. There were no questions asked, no explanations given; the kiss he pressed on her forehead told her all -she was beloved, forgiven, happy. To find her there was enough for him.

And wet, dripping wet, ran in Anders and his red-cheeked bride from their out-of-door employinents, shaking their clothes, laughing, and complaining.

"But who have we here? Good-evening, good-evening; be welcome. But now well! is it not our new Kapten from Björkdal?" Kapten!" said Anna, opening her eyes and looking at Hjalmar.

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"Yes, and neighbor also, my beloved," he replied.

Anders stared amazingly at hearing the new Kapten apply the last word to his sister; he pulled his whiskers, looked odd, and ejaculated that all-signifying Swedish word" Jasă!" and then sat down to supper.

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There is a good deal of room in a peasantfarmer's wooden house; but Anna slept that night by her mother's side, and the new Kapten from Bjorkdal" slept well and soundly in her neat little chamber. When he left it at an early hour next morning, he found her in the kitchen preparing the coffee; Anders and his active wife had already been two hours abroad without that customary morning-cup.

How early thou art out!" she said; "mother would have taken thee in coffee just

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My name is Anna, Hjalmar; I was baptized by that name; and now I am here again, I am also Anna again."

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"Ah! that name stands here," he said, drawing out her two-line billet, which he had received more than two years before. How often have I read these words, Anna!" -and he traced with his fingers the line, "I have not despised my mother" - "and each time I reproached myself with having caused them to be written, and each time almost repented of the promise I had made, never voluntarily to see thee again. Yet I would have kept that promise if I had not learned, only two days since, that thou wert no longer with the Accountant Miller. Hope whispered the truth, and I came to seek thee here."

The girl bent down her head; a tear fell on her cheek; it was kissed away.

"We will never talk of this again, Anna -never. Come, love, let us go out; see how charmingly beautiful it is out there!"

Anna tied the peasant girl's simple handkerchief over her head, and drew on her gloves. How pretty she looked with the soft black silk resting at the sides of her fair face the bright glossy hair folded back so smoothly beneath it!

"Where are your curls, Anna?" Hjalmar asked, as they went out. "This pretty hair used to be all curls."

"Curls would ill become Jacris' daughter," she replied, with something between a smile and a sigh.

"But you must wear them again, dearest; I used to like these pretty curls so much! And a Kaptenska, you know, need not be quite a peasant-girl." The grave, earnest Hjalmar looked so smiling and so happy when he said this! But Anna blushed deeply. It was the first time that their marriage had been ever alluded to. The blush was understood. "Do you know, Anna, what was the first thought that came into my head this morning? Well, I must confess it. I thought how droll it was that I had never yet asked you to be my wife; that you had never consented; and it would be curious to be married without all that! I do not believe I ever yet asked if you loved me; I am sure you never yet told me you did."

Smiles dimpled her cheek, as, glancing for an instant up to his face, she asked in reply: Was it necessary, Hjalmar ?”

Then Hjalmar told his companion how that letter from Stockholm, which he had carried with him from his boställe, had contained, among other gossip, a story of pretty Mamzell Miller, who, after a serious illness, had disappeared from the capital, and never returned for the space of nearly two years, although the good Accountants persisted in saying, she had only gone to see some friends in Norrland, and would return at the end of that time.

And Anna told Hjalmar how, in that fearful illness, the first she had ever had, the consent of her foster-parents had been given to her returning for some time to her old and real home; but only on condition that when she came back to them- if she chose to come back-she should have no parents but themselves; she must have no more scenes with "the mother from Norrland."

They loved Annette truly and fondly; they could not bear to think of finally parting with her: but the truth was, that the house of the worthy couple had latterly witnessed more excitement and commotion than suited with their unromantic and steady-going lives. They attributed all this, from beginning to end, to the mother from Norrland; for they

active, jocund bride. Then the poor girl thought she might realize her hope, and get her mother to remove with her. This, however, the mother had refused; and the alternative then lay between her own mother and her Norrland home, and Papa and Mamma Miller and Stockholm.

"And you had decided to be your own mother's, my Anna, just as I came in to ask you to be mine."

"Not to ask me, I think," the girl answered smiling.

"Well, to make you so."

The result of the morning's walk, and of a very long talk that took place on one of the many felled trees of the forest, was, first, that the consent and blessing of Gumman Jacris was to be demanded on their return to the house; next, that Anna should, as soon as possible, repair to Stockholm, accompanied by her mother, and there surrender herself to Mr. and Mrs. Accountant Miller, who must judge her as seemed to them right. If that judg ment were favorable, which the girl felt sure it would be, she should remain under their protection until they surrendered her again to her husband. Anders and his wife should meet them on their return at the Kapten's boställe, and after spending some days with them, to celebrate the marriage, conduct the old woman back to the home where her husband died, and where she also, if it pleased her Lord, would die.

fancied the lieutenant had broken off with their Annette in consequence of Kaptenska Weinberg's intermeddling. Anna, believing that Hjalmar's letter was confidential, had never spoken of him more. To put an end to all this, they agreed that she should visit the old home, quite convinced that she would not remain there so long as she now thought. They thought it as well for her to be out of Stockholm, and freed from the unpleasantness of meeting Hjalmar at that time; and, in the firm belief that she would find the Norrland new-settler's house and life quite insupportable to her, they extended their liberality, and agreed that she might remain there, if she wished, even for the space of two years; provided that, at the end of that term, her decision should be finally made, and she should choose, for once and forever, whose she would be. She told him, moreover, how hard she had found it at first to reconcile herself to family manners and modes of life; how drearily her time had passed; how irksome her duty was. But how Anders, the good, rough brother, who was the good-natured torment of her childhood, and the dread of her fine-lady life Anders, who had called her the silvered spoon, had been the one who contrived, without rubbing off the silvering, to get the lead out of her very heart. He smoothed her way; he considered her in all things; he submitted without affectation to her superiority, where she was superior, and yet made her feel herself of use to him at the This plan was executed with a degree of time when he was really of use to her. He despatch and precision quite creditable to such wanted to learn all that she knew or liked, a slow-moving country as Sweden. Gumman and he ended in making her desirous to learn Jacris gave her consent and blessing; and what he knew and liked better. In the end, that very evening the ceremony of betrothal Anna's natural good sense found out all this; took place. Hjalmar thought it best it should the whole family became happier, for the good be so, although there was some difficulty in Norrland mother was happy when her beau- getting a couple of rings for the occasion: this tiful child, who had been so "dreadfully was managed, however, by the help of the old grand," seemed to be less awkward and out principle — where there is a will there is a of her element at home; and when Anna way; and the day after, the young captain found that, from delicacy to her, the brother walked back to his boställe, and returned with she had considered so rude, uncouth, almost the strong, but sufficiently comfortable caruncivilized, had actually put off for a whole riage, in which he made his journeys. Travyear the consummation of the wedded blessed-elling in Sweden is perhaps at all times pleas ness he contemplated with a good, round-anter to natives than to foreigners; at all faced, active, thorough-going girl of the neigh-events, few of our readers have made a pleasborhood, all her childhood's love for him anter journey in the far north than was made returned; and when love came to her aid, by Kapten Hjalmar, his betrothed, and the duty grew light.

Gumman, whom they both now called mother. So had she gone on in her Norrland home They journeyed all the way to Stockholm for nearly two years. But a hope had lain, together. Anna returned to the charge of as yet unextinguished, at her heart. Mr. her foster-parents, only to be transmitted to Accountant Miller wrote, asking, in words, that of her husband. Mr. and Mrs. Acfor her decision only, but evidently with a countant Miller were more satisfied to part longing desire for her return. To go back to with her when she exchanged them for Kapthe Millers would be to go back to Stockholm; ten Hjalmar, than they would have been had and Stockholm was still the land of hope to she left them for Gumman Jacris: there was her. She resolved not to leave her mother; less of jealousy in the case, and the whole but at her entreaty Anders fulfilled his mat-affair excited a degree of sentiment, which rimonial engagement, and brought home his drew forth the tears of the excellent pair.

They acted well by their adopted child, and gave her a better dower than either she or her husband expected.

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a whole year's occupation in preparing more, since poor Annette had never learned the art of weaving. The Accountant had given all the silver. Anders' wife brought a piece from When Kapten and Kaptenska Hjalmar her own loom, for the especial use of that arrived at their neat and comfortable boställe," dreadfully beautiful" kitchen. But the they found all in order for their reception, jewel of all the bridal-presents was that offered under the busy and anxious cares of Anders by Anders himself. See, dear thou - that and his cheerful, laughing wife. Kaptenska is, I should say, Fru Kaptenska see,' ran eagerly through the rooms, delighted with said. them, and everything in them. But the kitchen was, in the estimation of the brother and sister-in-law, the charm of the whole house. This sight was reserved for the last; and, decorated as it was with flowers and green boughs, it looked really attractive. Anna was allowed to fly through the other apartments as she pleased, alone, when the rest could not keep pace with her; but in the kitchen the whole party must congregate, although the preparations for a great supper rather disarranged the elegance of its aspect. Every one uttered exclamations of admiration, less." and every one presented the usual bridal-gifts, to increase the household stores of the new beginners. Mrs. Accountant Miller had sent some house-linen, but promised herself still

From Hogg's Instructor.

HOW A TRUE POET IS MADE.

THE bird, when ripe, will soar and sing;

The bard, when grief matures his mind,
Will from his heart's heaped treasures bring
Thoughts fit to teach his Adam-kind;
And, set to music, they will turn
To strains the willing crowd shall learn.
But not till then-oh! not till care
Hath stared him sternly in the face,
Hath fettered him to red despair,

That scorches with a fierce embrace
Oh! not till then can poet give
The song by which his fame shall live.
We learn to sing, as nightingales

Are said in Eastern tales to do;
To many a cross by cruel nails

Our spirits must be bound, ere, true
To poesy and nature, we

A rose's grace can sing, or see.
Then haste not thou, who in thy soul

Ambitious art of minstrel's meed-
To woo the prophet's strange control,

To gauge the depths of human need;
For thou shalt, if a poet born,
Learn all too soon how crowns are worn.
With heavy brows, and aching hearts,

Our anadems we wear, for they
Bear that around them which imparts
A spiritual suffering night and day;
A sense to see, a touch to feel,

Sorrows they have no skill to heal.
Yet grief, yet pain, may visit all,

Though few possess the poet's power o bid soft strains of music fall,

That soothe man's dark and moody hour;

"Fru Kaptenska!" cried the happy bride, laughing, and clapping her rough but goodhearted brother. "But what is this, Anders? no, really a wooden spoon! Ah, good brother, is there lead in the handle ?” "Nay, little sister; nay, my dear Anna, it is not silvered. It is like thyself— a true, common, beautiful, wooden spoon.'

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"Thanks, kind good brother. Thanks, Anders. Trust me, it shall never be silvered; it shall ever remain just what it is, and what it appears to be nothing more, and nothing

"And my wooden spoon," said her husband, as his arm encircled the speaker," is as precious to me as any silver one, for it is most excellent of its kind."

We may not pity him who hath
One song to cheer his onward path.
But, poet, if thy lesson well

From trial and from pain thou 'st taken,
I need not teach thee what the spell

By which their influence may be shaken
I need not tell thee what the Book
In which for comfort thou must look.
Not praise of men, not laurels bound
By beauty's fingers on thy brow
Not all the charms that throng around
The circle where fame's torches glow-
Can chase a pang, or change a sin,
Or make a healthy life within.

When thou hast learned thy hymns to raise
To God whose book thy harp beside
Shall teach it such high chants of praise
As soar beyond all human pride-
Then, Christ thy theme, and love thy creed,
Thou shalt a poet be indeed!

CALDER CAMPBELL.

MAN'S DEGENERACY.
'Tis not that Nature changes, nor the clime
Its vigorous influence loses, nor the place
That fostered once a haught and hardy race,
Its temper casts, the sweet and the sublime
Shedding for the decrepitude of time.

But 't is the men degenerate, and disgrace
Their nobler fathers, their great deeds deface,
And crouch and grovel where their sires would

climb.

Athens and Rome have still the self-same sky
That on Themistocles and Scipio shined;

But their posterity have lost the eye

Of power, the daring hand, the aspiring mind. The eagle's nest, the eaglets thence expelled,

Is by the craven and the kestrel held.

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