We went forward as directed, and as soon as we could find a place to sit down we availed ourselves of the opportunity; it was quite a relief to be able to stretch our legs out, but as for standing, that was entirely out of the question. We were now enabled to get a view of each other, and certainly we each cut a most lamentable figure, begrimed as we were with sweat and coal-dust. We had not sat many minutes before the overman joined us, and we had again to resume our journey. If we had found difficulty in traversing a passage four feet high, we found no alleviation in having to enter one four inches lower. However, we were consoled by the assurance of our companion, that we were not far now from the place where our original guide was at work. We began now to feel the fatigue consequent upon our unwonted exertions, and one of our party, who was last in the train, except myself, dropped down fairly overcome. We had no light with us, and he begged of me to stay with him, as he could proceed no further; I did not require much persuasion to remain, as I found myself nearly done up. The remainder of our party were not long before they missed us, and called out to us to come along, as they could now see our guide at work. This gave us fresh courage, and we made a successful attempt, and at length reached the place of promise. It was then our first business to prepare a resting place, and however uncomfortable a bed of large coals might feel upon ordinary occasions, we found it was not to be despised in our circumstances, as at any rate it allowed us to stretch our legs out. After resting until we had somewhat recovered from our fatigue, we rose to see the mode of working the coal.

Our guide was sitting on the floor, stripped to his drawers and sleeveless shirt, hewing away with his pick by the light of a candle stuck against the coal by the help of a piece of clay. He undermined the coal for a yard inwards. This done, he proceeded to drill a hole at the top of the seam for the same distance; he then placed a shot at the further extremity of the hole, which he afterwards filled up with small coal, ramming it tightly in. He next bored a hole with a pricker, until it reached the shot, a straw was then put in, and a candle was placed so that on burning a short time it should ignite the straw. He then retired to a safe distance, and in less than a minute we heard a report like a cannon; on returning to the spot we found that the whole mass had fallen. Whilst he was engaged in breaking it up into smaller pieces, we heard a voice hailing him, and asking him if he had anything ready, to which he answered in the affirmative. One of my friends was so much amused with the drawling tone with which their communications was carried on, that he attempted to mimic our guide's voice, but the attempt was in vain; he could not pronounce the "shibboleth." We now perceived a light at some distance along the passage, and as it approached nearer, we could see a pair of naked legs coming along at a quick rate; at last a boy became visible, with nothing upon him in the shape of clothing but his drawers and shoes. He expressed his wonder at the altered tone of Johnny's voice, but his astonishment was greatly increased at meeting with strangers, and after he had satisfied his curiosity by not a few questions, he gave his decided opinion upon the matter, that we were great fools in coming upon such an errand; so strange did it appear to him that any one should voluntarily undergo that which was to him the toil and trouble of his existence. Our companion had now finished his allotted labour, and we went with him to where his "marrow" was employed. There was considerable bustle when we arrived, as the putters, who convey the coal upon their trams through those narrow passages, had arrived, and were busy loading their boxes to convey them to the crane.

We now bent our steps outward, not however by the long route we came in by; we were quite stiff after the rest we had taken, and felt but little inclination to pursue our former mode of travelling, and luckily we fell in with a tram upon which two of us mounted, whilst the others propelled it from behind very much to our gratification. We found ourselves proceeding at a rapid pace, and were cheering our friends behind for their dexterity, when we had nearly run over our guide, who was before us; he contrived, however, to upset us, for which we were not at the time inclined to be over thankful. On looking round for our friends, whom we expected to have seen close behind us, we saw them at some distance off in the attitude best adapted for licking the dust; the fact was the tram had come to an incline, and had fairly run away from them. We soon arrived at the crane, and once more enjoyed the pleasure of standing erect, which only those, who like ourselves, had been so long burrowing like a mole, could duly appreciate. All was bustle, and the putters, arriving with their trams, and transferring their loads to the corves, caused no little noise and confusion.

We now proceeded onward, and at each door we passed through, a boy, about nine or ten years old, emerged from a cabin, and closed it after us. They are called "trappers," and their duty is to open the door for the rollies, and close it immediately after them, for the sake of preserving a proper ventilation. We soon got to the bottom of the shaft, and here everything was bustle and activity, contrasting strangely with the silence which pervaded it on our first coming down. We stood for some time observing the clamour and confusion around us, and waiting a favourable opportunity for ascending. The men who were engaged in hooking and unhooking the corves, were the only uncivil persons we had met with on our journey. It is a matter of course to make a present upon such occasions, but before we had an opportunity of doing so, they demanded it of us in a very impudent manner, to which, as asked in that manner, we did not incline to submit. They whispered together, and then one of them left us; our companion, however, had his eye upon them, and following the man, made him desist from his purpose, which was to stir up the furnace, and so give us the full benefit of the smoke during our ascert. After satisfying the other man, we commenced our progress to the upper air, not in a loop as we came down, but more comfortably placed in an empty corf. We arrived safe to bank, it was about seven o'clock, a fine frosty morning, and we enjoyed the change after our sojourn in the realms of darkness. Hunger now began to exert its claims upon us, and we repaired to the inn in the village, where we made a hearty meal, black as we were. After enjoying a thorough ablution at the house of our guide, we proceeded to our respective homes; but our legs did not for a long time forget our-visit to a coal pit.

Though brief thy train, and small thy sphere,
Still, Death has housed rich harvest near;
But those fair bays have left his brow,
So wide the space 'tween then and now :
Oh! Time has hush'd the victor's cheer,
Since that great reaper flourish'd here.
Each homely and each learned scroll,
Hic Jacet and Here lies inurned,

Have moulder'd with the lov'd and mourn'd.
Thank God for thee, undying soul!
Heir to pure realms by faith unfurl'd,
Afar from this ephemeral world.
The towering pile that decks thy side,
Is graceful in its modern pride;
And hundreds press its seats in prayer,
Who yield to thee nor thought nor care.
But sooner would my breast record
Its hopes and frailties to its Lord,
Whilst kneeling on this knee-worn soil,
Than cushion'd in that splendid aisle.
For everything the earth doth hold,
The white-hair'd sire, and turret bold;
E'en God's bless'd fanes, on sacred mould,
Seem purer, holier, when they're old.
Like thine own ivy, whilst I stay,
My young heart loves thy stern decay;
And memory, to this brief sojourn,
When far my steps have passed away,
Will sweetly turn.

Star of Hope Lodge.

SYLVAN.

IDA WEILIEZA, THE BEAUTY OF THE SALT MINE.

A TRAVELLER'S TRADITION.

BY MRS. E. S. CRAVEN GREEN.

Or all the wonders so often visited, and so powerfully delineated in this age of travel, the salt mines of Cracow seem to rest in enviable obscurity, a new field for the almost exhausted spirit of novelty-a subterranean world-a city carved from the pellucid ice, like a material illuminated by torches, and gleaming in long pale vistas of houses and palaces, as if some gnome had crystalized the moonlight, and wrought itself a glittering world to reign and revel in. Pillars purely classical in their form, and transparent as a "lighted alabaster vase," support the vaulted roof, recurring at measured intervals like a succession of triumphal arches, while the stalactites, formed by the dropping of water and removal of the salt, lie glittering round, as if the jewel houses of an Indian emperor had been rifled, and their treasures scattered forth by the prodigality of the conqueror. Many chapels, hewn out of the sparkling rock, lift their fretted pinnacles and gleam with a thousand lustres, as the crystal reflects the lights constantly burning before the crucifix or the saint. Here hundreds are born and die to whom this world of ours is like a dream of the Arabian Aden. Flowers, sunshine, and the stars of glorious visions! splendid fables must ye seem, and difficult to be believed by the dwellers in the bosom of the earth-ye are the elysium of their songs, for poets, the loved ones of nature, exist even there; and many a bright cheek has glowed to deeper bloom when the fond homage of love has compared its beauty to the rose, the most rare and envied gift which the bridegroom of the salt mines can present to his wondering bride. Some of course, in their avocations visit the earth, and with the authority

granted to travellers, relate many marvellous legends on their return, so that the salt miners seem to have a world and a mythology of their own. Wild and fanciful as these traditions are, there is one pathetic and long current among them, that deserves to visit this sublunary sphere from its truth and sadness. I heard it first from an old miner, whose head was grey, but whose eyes had never looked upon the sun,-"a man's a man for a' that," and he was as free and happy as if he had lived in the green woods, and worshipped lovely nature without knowing it, all the period of his extended life; nay, he seemed as if his spirit was more deeply imbued by the kindly and gracious feelings which his poetical fancy had dreamt of from infancy, till it had reared a lovely vision in his heart of flowers which died not, and suns without a cloud. We sat within the porch of a small chapel, whose fanciful colums seemed entwined with wreaths of sculptured gems as the light was reflected in a thousand glorious dyes; but on its pellucid altar, before an alabastar image of the Madonna, lay indeed gems which were in reality priceless. The long auburn tresses of a woman, entwined with oriental pearls and gorgeous decorations, like the regalia of a queen-rubies, and amethysts, and opals, were laid in heaped profusion at the shrine. "Touch them not, stranger," said the ancient miner, "they are the sin offering of a broken heart! Tradition has cast over them mystery and fear, there needs no casket to save them from the spoiler, for the boldest miner would shudder to touch them, lest his sister, his love, or his daughters, should bring upon themselves also the doom of Ida Weilieza."

I will divest the old miner's story of its breaks and prolixity, and retaining his simple phraseology, relate the legend of the Beauty of the Salt Mine of Cracow, as I heard it in the simple chapel of the Virgin.

During the last century, a stranger visited the mines so often that he became to most a familiar acquaintance. It was thought strange that one who could live upon the earth, should banish himself from its groves to wander in their pale city, and become as a brother to its dwellers; but they were simple-hearted, and had some little pride that their wonders could attract so often. Alas! there was a brighter gem than earth could boast of among them, and the stranger knew it well.

Ida Weilieza was the Beauty of the Mine. Fair, graceful, and with an inborn courtliness, she moved about her glittering world as if she reigned its queen. Yet never had a dream of her surpassing beauty crossed the pure heart of the innocent girl! Her parents, whom disappointment and sorrow had driven to this asylum, had reared their daughter in the cold creed which allows not the worldly thoughts of beauty, or of love, to mingle with its gloomy morality. Soured by grief, the stern couple gazed upon this blossom of their life without manifesting the love that was shut in their heart-of-hearts, like the hidden lamp in an ancient sepulchre. But Ida grew up as light-hearted as she dared be, innocent and guileless as the dove, and ministering to her parents in love and reverence till sixteen years had moulded her seraphic beauty into more radiant loveliness and grace. In the chapel of the Madonna the stranger first looked upon the blue eyes of Ida-it was there she paid her morning adorations, and how often afterwards did the little shrine echo to the whisperings of passion, the pleadings of the tempter.

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Ida, sweet Ida! fly with me-leave this cold, pale world, for mine-my own bright home! Flowers shall blush beneath thy steps, and sunbeams light to a more radiant lustre the blue glory of thine eyes-this silken cloud of amber ringlets would gleam brighter in the beams of day, this swan-like neck look more soft and fair—and oh! how would this queen-like form become thy lover's regal halls, for mine, love, is an envied lot upon earth. I am a ruler of the many, a prince in my native land; thou shalt share and dignify my throne, and all that Ida loves shall be loved by Heinrich." "But my father and my mother?"

"They shall join thee, love, when all is ready to grace our bridal. Come to the beautiful day, to the breath of summer, to the arms of love!"

Long did the innocent one resist pleadings like these, though the glorious lot they pictured became as part of her own soul. There was one art yet left untried. At the altar of the Virgin had Ida sworn to keep the secret of her love. He disappeared for a time, certain that her religious feelings would ensure her silence, and that the suppressed fire would burn more strongly. Never before had she gazed on a form so stately, a face where the haughtiness of habitual command redeemed the almost feminine beauty of the features, from wearing too much of the Adonis-large dark beseeching eyes and raven curls. Far less has won the heart of wiser dames, and the pure child of nature strove in vain to banish from her heart the visitor of her dreams, the day-star of her thoughts.