Any one acquainted with Stassfurth knows that a man does not walk himself tired in reaching the Anhalt-Cöthen frontier, because it is just under his nose.

"The potatoes ought to be carried off, and the usurers punished!" some cried, in whom the need was greater than honest sentiments. This opinion gained ground, and, after several had smoothed the way-so to speak-people started in a mob from Stassfurth with sacks to fetch potatoes from Warmsdorf, without thinking of payment. As their excuse, they had the wretched proverb, "Necessity knows no law." But they did not reflect that such potato-buying, without payment, is called in good German robbing and stealing. They must have felt something of the sort, for though they set out by daylight, they came home at night by hundreds, loaded with potatoes.

At first the police displayed a laxity, probably because they were afraid of the people; but when they of Warmsdorf shouted for help, might and force were obliged to interfere to put an end to this robber life, and those who were caught red-handed were detained, and a process was commenced against all those who were guilty. The ringleaders were locked and they were the dearest potatoes ever eaten in Stassfurth, although at first they cost nothing, because stolen.

up,

A trial, in which so many are implicated, does not go on quickly; and in those parts, where the unlucky writing goes on, you might fancy that the lawyers had all learnt rope-making, for they make a long job of everything, and advance like crabs. In 1850 the sentence was at length promulgated, by which one hundred and fifteen men of Stassfurth-most of whom were fathers of families, and had, moreover, been under the blessed examination arrest-were sentenced to hard labour for from one to six years, and in addition, those who could not pay the endless costs, would have extra imprisonment. This was for many families ruin-the deathblow of prosperity for ever.

It is sad for us, sinful children of man, that repentance always comes when it is too late, and the deed has been done. This was the case, too, at Stassfurth, and there was a bewailing in the town which might have moved a heart of stone.

It was known at the same time at Stassfurth that in Berlin there beat a royal heart which was rich in compassion. Hardly had one man sug gested an appeal to this royal heart to obtain the remission of the awful costs, ere all saw in it an anchor of hope. This was done, and they had not deceived themselves about the mild king's heart. Frederick William IV. remitted all the costs of the trial.

You can imagine what a delight this was, and how the king was blessed; but the imprisonment remained, and hung like a sword by one hair over the head of every guilty man.

"Ah!" the heavily-afflicted men then said, "it is true that we have deserved it, but what will become of wife and children if we men, who ought to support them, must sit in prison? If we only had an intercessor! The king, who is so mild and gracious, would also remit us the punishment, for it is too bad to see one's children starving and to starve oneself: certainly, we ought not to have stolen foreign property!" There was the hitch. "If we only had an intercessor! God is merciful to the penitent sinner-will not the king be so, who is so good?"

"Ah!" said one, "if our head preacher, Schild, would do it! He could manage it."

Scarcely was this said, ere the man was entreated from all sides to go to Berlin and implore mercy. This was a matter over which the clergyman was obliged to consider.

At last he said yes; but it was not all the same to the worthy soulkeeper, and he thought, if the king asks you, "Do they all feel their guilt? Are the hearts of all full of true real penitence? How stands it?' can you then say yes, before you have examined their hearts ?"

In truth, this was a ticklish point, and an honest conscience understands no joking, as old Heim of Berlin used to say, when he was still alive, the excellent man.

And what did the clergyman? He went to the condemned men, and just as the doctor feels the patient's pulse at the wrist he felt the pulse of their souls, and what he there found was, with a few exceptions of hardened rough fellows, of the nature that he felt a real joy at going as intercessor before his king and master, and saying, "Mercy is the fairest pearl in your crown, king and lord, and to exercise it over unhappy criminals is divinely grand."

Hence he set out on February 16, 1852, in God's name, and accompanied by many prayers, for Berlin, and he took two of the condemned men with him then.

They arrived in Berlin all right; but the king had something more to do than wait till the three Stassfurther came and rapped at his door. That is not so easy as with one of us, when we say at once, "Come in."

It cost them trouble, and they had to wait awhile, till they were told on that and that day, and at that and that hour, the king will speak with

you.

At ten o'clock on the morning of February 18th the three found themselves in the ante-chamber of the king's palace. They sat there, and their hearts beat as if they wanted to leap from their breasts; but their hearts prayed too: "O Lord, help-O Lord, allow us to succeed!" And with this prayer calmness and confidence returned to their minds.

After they had waited awhile, an adjutant opened the door, and cried, "His majesty, the king!"

Schild entered the room, but, when he looked round it, it was empty : however, he had not long to wait. The king suddenly appeared before him. He had been standing in a bay-window, and all at once walked up to him, as he was wont to do. "You wish to speak to me, my dear Mr. Preacher," the king said, gently and kindly. "I am glad to see you here. Tell me what you want.

The gate of the preacher's heart opened wide, he felt the importance of the solemn moment, and began to explain his affair. He first described the want which had prevailed in Stassfurth in 1847, and how more especially the fathers of large families were brought to desperation; he described the origin of the report about the potatoes at Warmsdorf, and how then the people, without thinking of the criminality of their actions, impelled by want and greed, and perhaps by anger, committed those deeds. The king listened with emotion to the preacher's warm words, and then asked how the people of Stassfurth had behaved in the wretched year 1848.

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The intercessor was enabled to say a good deal of good about many of them, for at Stassfurth they had laudably kept in the track of order, which elsewhere was terribly left.

The king heard this with satisfaction, but then said he had already shown partial mercy.

"Yes," said the preacher, "your majesty has already shown mercy, and we are most heartily grateful for it, but the poor people have undergone the fear for years, have all expressed their sincere penitence, and the punishment which falls on the fathers, the supporters of families, also falls on innocent children, and on them the hardest." And he continued, as if God had placed the thought in his heart: "Your majesty, when I was a little peasant-boy, and your majesty's most revered father broke his foot, my father taught me how I must remember my suffering king in my evening prayers: this affection has passed from father to son; I am conscious that I have never failed in my love to my king; but I now pray the more heartily for my poor parishioners, and with me hundreds of children pray and seize your majesty's hand-" And thus, in a word, he spoke straight from the heart, just as the Lord suggested to his heart at the moment.

Then the king bent down close to him, looked at him still more sharply, and at length drew himself up, and a tear stood in his eye. "In that case I can gladly show mercy," the king said.

The preacher was so excited and affected that he was forced to stop and collect himself.

The king continued: "Have all expressed their penitence?"

The preacher felt that, in the presence of the king, truth was superior to everything, and that he did not dare tell a falsehood for an object he desired.

"Yes, your majesty," he replied, "all-save three.”

"Save three?" the king repeated. "And how is it with those three? Can I not show them mercy ?"

The preacher reported: "One of the three has obstinately denied taking part in the robbery, and thinks he wants no mercy. The second is a notorious tippler, came to me in an intoxicated state, and unhappily behaves most badly in every respect. The third-well, I know nothing decided against him-but- And here he stated what the parish reported about the man. For these three he did not dare ask mercy, but, on the contrary, considered it advisable that they should suffer, so that the others might see that there was a law.

The king now broke short off, and began talking about other things. Suddenly, however, he said again :

"But the three! I cannot get rid of the three! When you go home all will rejoice, and I can fancy how you will be received. But then the three! it is impossible that they should not have cause to rejoice. I can change the hard labour into light imprisonment ?"

The clergyman returned thanks most warmly on behalf of the three, and only hoped that they would receive the mercy with gratitude.

The king turned to another subject. The conversation about this lasted about a quarter of an hour.

"But no," he suddenly broke off, "it will not do to treat the three thus. They must rejoice too. I will let them off half their sentence."

The clergyman was surprised by this sudden change in the conversation, and thanked the king once more most heartily.

Again the king spoke of other matters, but once more stopped,' walked close up to the preacher, laid his hand on his shoulder, and said:

"Those three, my dear Mr. Preacher-you regard the matter so strictly, so conscientiously-if you write to me that the three express their penitence, I will pardon them too."

The preacher had ever loved his king, but that the king took three such men so to his heart, and could not get rid of anxiety about their welfare, was a thing he had not expected. At length he asked whether the king would not allow his two companions the favour of expressing their grati

tude to him.

The king replied: "We are now both in such a condition that we had better remain alone: but tell your Stassfurther that I love them and my whole people. I too am a poor sinful man, and cannot help everybody, but I have the will to do so: they must not let themselves be turned against me by lies."

The conversation was at an end, and the preacher was about to take his leave. He gathered up his courage and said: "Your majesty has shown my Stassfurther such kindness, and has restored an honest father to so many children, that I hope to God that the children too will not forget this mercy. Her majesty the queen is so fond of children, as we have so often read. My children will, I hope, love the queen equally with your majesty may I not be allowed to tell her majesty that we love her?"

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The king was evidently surprised at this new request.

"Ah, that is capital of you, my dear Mr. Preacher-capital! You must tell her majesty of this! Go for a while across to the court marshal, Count von Koller, and tell him that I wish you to have an audience of her majesty at one o'clock. Afterwards you will return here."

And the preacher went off overjoyed. When he had got to the bottom of the stairs he was called back, and heard that his majesty wished to speak with him again.

The preacher was at first startled, for he thought that possibly the king had altered his mind, and was about to recal what he had promised when overcome by his friendly heart: he again entered in great anxiety the room where the king had first received him. There was not a soul in it. Suddenly a door, which he had not previously noticed, opened, and the king came in, holding the queen's hand.

"Here, Mr. Preacher," the king cried, with a beaming face, "you have your queen."

Greatly affected, the preacher expressed his love and reverence to the queen, and was then dismissed in the most gracious, even paternal way. Now I ask you, dear reader, whether that was not a king's heart, with few like it in the world? I ask you whether the love for such a royal heart must not be deeply rooted in the hearts of the nation? He rests in peace, the sorely-tried, truly-proven martyr with the noble heart, which could not get over the "three." Peace and mercy be with him! But in many, many hearts he erected a monument which is imperishable, and, I believe, in the hearts of the Stassfurther as well. "And the three ?" you will ask; and I answer with joy, "They also were pardoned.”

MR. GRIMSHAW'S LITTLE LOVE-AFFAIR.

BY DUDLEY COSTELLO.

XXI.

MR. HARDBACK'S PICTURES.

WHEN Conger Hall was first spoken of no detailed description of the interior of the principal apartments was given, and yet, as far as relates to some of them, a more particular account is necessary, the manner in which they were decorated being characteristic of the owner of the mansion.

Mr. Hardback was, in his way, a patron of Art, but of that branch of it which may safely be called "Low Art." His preference was for the Realistic school over that which developed the Ideal, though it never entered into his head, or his capacity, to define what was meant by the latter.

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"Give me," he used to say, when declaring his tastes- —" give me a pictur that represents something I can understand. I don't care twopence for Allegories, or whatever you call 'em; Sacred subjects, in my opinion, is impious, and the Historicals is all bosh. How do I know what they mean unless I've read all about 'em in books? If I'd wasted my time in reading instead of attending to business, where should I have been? pauper in the Union, most likely! No, no, catch me at that sort of fun. I've quite enough to do to read my ledger and make that all straight. Now for picturs, what's the use of 'em, I should like to know, if they don't set before your eyes the likenesses of what you meets with every day! A chap that can paint me a lobster just as I see him crawling over my marble slab,-or a dog a gnawing of a bone like the one down at my lodge, or the inside of my shop in Thames-street,-or my coach and 'orses, or anything else that I can handle and look at,-he's the man for my money; he's the painter for me! That's the reason why I deal with Pith, now, and such as him. When they made Pith a member of the Royal Academy they did the right thing for once. He gives 'em natur, and natur in a pictur is what I goes in for."

The soundness of this critical canon there is no disputing. As much nature as you please! Indeed, let all be as natural as art can accomplish.

But, unless you exhibit more taste in following nature than was observed by those whom Mr. Hardback patronised, you will not greatly advance the interests or develop the true principles of Art. Pith, whose pictures lined Mr. Hardback's walls, was a clever fellow, no doubt. He possessed great imitative power and much manipulative skill, but he had a vulgar mind, and all his works were tainted by vulgarity. His great picture, "The Fight between Heenan and Tom Sayers," which attracted such crowds the year it was exhibited, and which Mr. Hardback bought for a thousand guineas, was a striking example of his style. The action of the pugilists was unimpeachable, every muscle was admirably developed, the expression of their countenances was as ruffianly as the most ardent patron of the Ring could desire; and so of the assembled rascaldom that filled the rest of the canvas. There was not a low fellow in London who might not exultingly have pointed to his portrait in this work of Art as a perfect