birds [her birds, I thought, must be of the vulture order], and 'twould
seem right down mean to charge folks for board when they'd jest
been skinned by a fire." This referred, not to our physical condition,
as might be supposed, but to our loss of property.

After consulting together, Miss Littleday and I made another ex-
cursion to the "store" and purchased a rocking-chair, which threw
Mrs. S. into an overpowering state of admiration and gratitude.
"The very thing the settin'-room wanted! she declared; "she had
hankered after such a chair for quite a spell, but the Deacon couldn't
seem to sense it."

It was really sad to say good-bye to Miss Wood, and leave her in such doleful circumstances; but she was not at all "under the juniper tree," and had already made arrangements for a new and improved building for her water-cure. We had, too, the satisfaction of hearing that Uncle Jared was safely disposed of with some friends at a distance, and a younger and saner man was ready to take his place of steward and prime-minister.

Miss Littleday began her journey with me, but switched off, after an hour or two, to her Western home, saying, as she left me: "Now, my dove, take good care of yourself, and be sure to write to me whenever you can; but don't expect any answers, for no one ever gets a letter out of me except at the point of the bayonet. Good-bye, my dewdrop; and in the words of the poet

'When this you see,
Remember me."

The cherished volume of Dr. Johnson, which she had rescued from the flames, was deposited in my unwilling hands; and feeling about as grateful as the recipient of a stray baby, I watched the departing figure of my quaint old friend, who vanished in a cloud of "nods and becks and wreathed smiles."

Many ridiculous pictures of my appearance to the eyes of my
astonished friends at the Philadelphia depot were drawn for me after
my return, in which the green gingham dress, that remarkable bonnet,
the thick volume in calfskin, and a large apple, also thrust upon me
by my eccentric friend and retained unconsciously, had more than
justice done them.

"Where did you get that dreadful dress?" was the first question
asked me;
"and from what brain emanated the remarkable style of
architecture expressed in its making up?"

Now, if any one had admired the fit (as I fondly hoped they would,
for it was my first attempt), I was prepared modestly to acknowledge
the workmanship; but to this unflattering query I meekly replied
that it was made in Arragon.

"Of course," they observed; "what could be expected from such a place?" And then I was hurried into the carriage, that I might not disgrace my family by receiving undesirable attentions from street-boys or corner-loafers.

My adventures and losses subsequently excited very little sympathy; the general feeling being plainly expressed, that it served me just right for being weak enough to go to a Water-Cure.

ELLA RODMAN CHURCH.

458

THE GREAT DESERT OF LÜNEBERG.

"L OOK!" said my friend, suddenly. "We are in the midst of

the Great Lüneberger Heide (heath), and yonder is the

church-spire of Uelzen."

Gazing from the window of the railway carriage, I beheld a vast expanse of level country, stretching on all sides to the far-away horizon of low wooded uplands, and covered with a sparse growth of blacklooking wiry grass and stunted heather (Erica). Interspersed were white sandy patches, where not even the heather would grow, and low-lying marshy tracts of black peat, with here and there a verdant oasis, from amid whose foliage peeped the red-tiled roofs of little villages and hamlets. Every slight rise and swell of the ground was tinged with the purple and blue of the harebell and heather; while long rows of linden, beech, and Lombardy poplar, stretching across the flat expanse, marked the roads from village to village. Dark, solemn fir-forests shut in the great level as though it had been a lake, and a bright little river glistened here and there in tortuous meanderings, marking its course with a line of vivid green. This was the. great Lüneberger Heide, of the very existence of which I had until this day been ignorant; yet may I confess it without shame, since even in Germany the "Great Desert of Lüneberg" is beyond its own borders almost a pays inconnu. Wherefore, I rejoiced exceedingly that chance had directed my footsteps hither, where commercial travellers are never seen, and the fashionable tourist is a creature of unknown species.

In the very heart of the Great Heath lies Uelzen, a little, wonderfully clean, wonderfully quiet old town, looking as though it had ages ago been forgotten by the world and left stranded here in the midst of the desert. And in fact, until the new Hamburg and Hanover railroad passed near it and brought it to light, like some ploughed-up antediluvian fossil, it was an almost forgotten place. Even now the thunder of the iron horse, as he rushes on his triumphant way, has barely aroused it from its centuries'-long slumber. At first, it started awake and stared and rubbed its eyes, and slowly bestirring itself, made an effort to do something; built a brewery and a new hotel, in anticipation of the people who never came; and then, as finding its efforts vain, quietly settled again to repose. And so it lies, in a dull dreamy state of existence, from which it is probably destined never to be awakened.

Of the numbers of people who are daily swept past this obscure town, lying as flat upon the Heide as a toy-village upon a parlor-floor, how many are aware that it was once a place of importance, a fortified city and the chosen residence of sovereigns? Yet so it is; and the little town, scarcely a mile in circumference, is more than a thousand years old. Long ago, when Mayence and Cologne were simply Roman fortresses, and Düsseldorf undreamed of, Uelzen was a set

tlement of one of the barbarous Northern tribes, who have left their footprints in the sands of the desert and in the surrounding forests Then came the mystical Huenen, the fair-haired Saxons, and the marauding Danes, until somewhere in the twelfth century it became a fortified city, and the residence of the princely house of BrunswickLüneberg, whose tombstones and effigies still adorn its Marienkirche. And not until their residence was transferred to Hanover did the little town lose its dignity and importance, and sink into a deserted and forgotten old age.

Uelzen lies on the Ilmenau, a branch of the Elbe, which running the whole length of the Heide, marks its tortuous course with a line of rich emerald-green meadows and woodlands, contrasting strangely with the surrounding bare plain. The stream, which is narrow, rapid, and clear as crystal, not only encircles half the town, but pours its waters into the moat which surrounds it. Within this moat extend the ivy-covered ruins of the old fortifications; and the space between, once ramparts, is now converted into private gardens, whence fruitladen branches droop over the moat without. Pleasant is a stroll along its margin, where in the morning picturesquely-clad women stand knee deep in the water, rinsing piles of snowy linen; while later in the day, happy-looking mothers may be seen treating their little ones to a refreshing bath ere their evening's repose; and at all hours of the day glimpses are to be had on the opposite side of rustic paradises of lilies and roses, wherein sit family groups of young girls and matrons, engaged in knitting and embroidery. Their cheerful voices are hushed at our approach, and they glance up curiously but shyly at the passing Americans a. wonderful sight in Uelzen. Very fair are these North-German girls, with an exquisite transparent delicacy of rose-and-lily complexion, blonde hair, and the lightest of blue eyes, wherein the large black pupil gleams like a ball of jet set in blue crystal. Yet their features are neither regular nor expressive, and the mouth in special is coarsely cut. Those of the upper class are well educated; and I was pleased to find among them several who had been educated in England, and spoke the language correctly and fluently. There was also something very pleasant and refreshing in the modest shyness and politeness of these well-bred German girls, contrasted with the confidence and pertness of their perhaps fairer and cleverer, and certainly "faster," American sisters.

Skirting the moat, we come to the remains of an ancient tower which once formed the chief defence of the city gate. Up the winding staircase we climb, pausing to look forth from some narrow loophole upon the far-stretching Heide without, and wondering what rude and half-savage faces had looked thence in ages past, watching the approach of an enemy, while from the battlements above the crouching marksman had let fly his arrows in deadly aim. The old town (once a member of the Hanseatic League) has successfully withstood many an attack and siege, both of neighboring powers and foreign marauders, such as the Danes, who so often pillaged and destroyed the towns of North Germany. Close by the tower are the remains of the old city-gate, whence a broad, stone-paved, and comparatively modern street runs straight through the centre of the town to the opposite

gate. There are other streets, dingy, narrow, and crooked, but clean as a kitchen-floor, wherein we see the antiquated and uncouth-looking houses which formed the "old town" in its days of ancient state. On their gables are carved quaint Latin inscriptions, and frequently the names of their original owners together with the date of their erection. At the doors of some stand rude and weather-worn stone benches, adorned with figures of cherubs and goblins, whilst in front of others are three artificially-stunted lindens, resembling overgrown cabbages the "Three Lindens" and the Lion of Brunswick forming the coat-of-arms of Uelzen.

"You must see our old Palace," said the pretty Fräulein Emma Krohne, who delighted to act as cicerone to the appreciative American strangers; and she conducted us to a low two-storied, red-tiled building, with many-peaked gables, and rough walls of mingled brick and stone, crossed and recrossed with immense oaken beams, which once added to their strength, but are now crumbling and decayed. These beams still show the traces of rude carvings, and the projecting ends of those supporting the floors and roof are cut into grotesque faces. A low arched doorway, nearly a foot in thickness, and studded with iron spikes, forms the main entrance; and above this is carved the following inscription, in Latin:-" Christ, thou art my Door. If the Porter of Heaven, the Holy Spirit, is by me, then is open the way to my Father, the King."

Entering, we found ourselves in a large stone-paved hall, once hung round with armor. The iron hooks remain which supported these; but now, in place of shields and helmets appeared sheep-skins and bags of wool, for the old palace is at present degraded into the storehouse of a wool-merchant. At one end of this long hall is a raised dais, such as we read of in descriptions of old Saxon halls in England, above which is carved the following text in Latin :-" The King that faithfully judgeth the poor, his throne shall be established for

ever.

In one of the apartments we were shown a recess wherein was born, in 1506, Prince Ernst der Bekenner (The Confessor), who here first introduced the Reformed religion, and converted the chapels and convents of Uelzen into Protestant institutes. A century later the Palace, as indeed all Uelzen, suffered severely from a conflagration, and we find carved on the inner roof-beam the following, in German :-" The venerable abode has at last, in the silence and darkness of night, been quickly and ruthlessly destroyed by the suffocating flames. Good God, be merciful to Frederic, Prince of Brunswick and Lüneberg. 1646." And directly opposite, with the same date, "God's Son, help!"

I could not ascertain the exact date of the erection of the Palace, yet we see that so far back as two centuries since it was considered "venerable." How solidly built were those old edifices, thus to have defied time. The walls of this "Prince's House are nearly three feet in thickness. The inside surface is of the same rude masonry as without, and was formerly covered with arras of tapestry, some fragments of which are preserved in the Museum at Hanover. It consists simply of a web of coarse linen cloth, about eighteen inches in width, representing uncouth figures worked in colored threads,

generally the outlines alone being traced. It is an almost exact counterpart of our great-grandmothers' "samplers," which we have handed down to us, framed and glazed, as precious specimens of old-time art; and indeed, this more modern work is but a continuation of the medieval tapestry of which we read so much. In those days things were intended more for use than for show; yet, looking upon this old palace and the adjoining Marienkirche, it is touching and almost pathetic to note the poor but elaborate attempts at adornment, in the clumsy figures and grotesque arabesques carved upon the wood-work, and which, with the meagre tapestry, was doubtless magnificent in the eyes of semi-barbaric royalty. Thus does the allpervading love of the beautiful assert itself; though it is curious to observe in what a grotesque form it is embodied by uncultivated races, and how gradually, with the advance of education and refine⚫ment, it attains to higher degrees of development. Between the Hottentot Venus, for instance, and that Athenian "statue which enchants the world," what a vast difference exists!

Every village in Germany has its church-spire; but the great tower of the Marienkirche of Uelzen stands like the giant of its kind, a landmark for twenty miles around. Erected in 1200, it is outwardly a heavy, clumsy and exceedingly ugly structure; but the interior, completed several centuries later, presents a beautiful nave and transept, with lofty clustered columns, whence spring Gothic arches, crossing and recrossing each other in the most graceful and artistic manner. The carved galleries and long narrow Gothic windows of stained glass are superb; and there is a very old and curious crucifix and altar-piece carved in wood, remnants of its former days of Romanism. The floor consists of vault-slabs, the inscriptions on most of which are nearly obliterated; and the lofty walls are covered with monumental tablets and effigies of the Princes and Dukes of the House of Brunswick-Lüneburg and their families. Perceiving us interested in these relics, the old sexton took us into the vaults below, where we enjoyed the privilege of looking upon two leaden sarcophagi containing the royal ashes of a Prince and Princess of Brunswick, centuries old and covered with armorial bearings. "From the throne, a coffin ! " the motto of some noble British house. What a lesson for poor plebeian humanity! But then, moralising upon such a subject is a thing so trite, and to others so tiresome, that I shall spare my readers the infliction.

a

Sauntering leisurely through the almost deserted streets of Uelzen, we stopped to look at a quaint old building in the form of a cross, having a high peaked roof studded with dormer windows, and surmounted by a fantastic clock-tower. The arched entrance-door, shaded by three stunted lindens overhanging it like a bower, stood open, and my artist-eye was instantly caught by the scene within scene which appeared but the realisation of those picturesque interiors which are so familiar to us in the works of Dutch and German artists. Fancy a large stone-paved hall, with, facing us on the opposite side, a second arched doorway, giving a glimpse of an old-fashioned high-walled garden full of fruit-trees, amid which appears a little halfruined chapel with Gothic windows. On the right as you enter is a