the Castle. The mists lay over the distant hills and the river, and the pure purple lights of morning shed a radiance over them, though the sun was hidden behind a veil; the road lay straight away across the level plain as far as the eye could see; the grey expanse seemed only broken by flights of starlings that wheeled in wide circles overhead, losing themselves in the mist; the brown woods, half dismantled of their leaves, stretched away into the sky, melting into shadowy purple.

Sieglinde rode on her faithful Kaiser, beside Guido, who, with his head bent down, seemed lost in silent thought. Sieglinde's eyes were fixed on the most distant point of the horizon, as though they sought to pierce through the mists, and be at her journey's end. Be ind them rode a few of her most faithful servants, amongst them Odilia and the old warder, Werner. They travelled thus all that day, Guido sometimes speaking heavenly words of faith and hope to Sieglinde, and she giving him her parting messages and wishes.

Among other things, she said: 'Father, we have not seen the last of Rudolph and Bertha. Ah, poor Rudolph! You will, I feel sure, see them again one day, though I shall not; and if they ever come as pilgrims to the Castle, pray let them be entertained with all possible honour and kindness, and say to them from me that, on this day, when I go to my lord, I thought of them, and shall look on toward meeting them again one day in joy and peace in Wonne Land'

She also said: Like these mists the things of this present lifeloom round us, and appear gigantic to our eyes, so that we cannot see the true proportion of invisible things, which are yet close to us all the while, in their truth and beauty. And oh, my Father! how often have they held my weak eyes, so that I almost let go all faith in the eternal things beyond, and had it not been for your help, should perhaps have altogether lost my way in the fogs.'

And Guido answered: That is all past now, dear daughter; faith itself shall be lost in sight.'

They rested at mid-day upon a delightful sward, where the birds were singing with clear melodious notes in the trees; the sun, gleaming through the mists, bathed everything in golden light, and Sieglinde's face itself seemed to shine.

'Let us press on, for I am in haste,' she said; and so they rode forward. The mists have passed,' she said. 'Oh, how beautiful the sun is, and how clear the light! and by it I shall see my Lord's face.' And she pressed on so eagerly that the rest were left behind.

The road now ran along a lofty piece of moorland, broken by boulders and great stones, that looked as though they had been broken from the rocks by giants who had passed that way, and left them there to mark their footsteps. The sun was so bright that the heather shone like crimson banners, waving amidst the rocks; and then there broke upon the travellers' happy eyes the blue hills and

peaks of Wonne Land, which seemed now almost near, for they could even make out the towers and spires of Lord Agathos' Castle, glittering like shafts of light in the sun.

Between it and them, however, there lay in reality a great and wide valley, into which the road began slowly to descend, and when they were down, the rocks shut out all the sun, which was now drawing near its setting. In the valley, too, the evening mists were rising quickly, touching all things with chilly fingers, so that the travellers shivered, and drew their cloaks closer round them. The view of Wonne Land was quite gone now, and nothing could be seen but on the one hand the grim dark rocks, which became still higher as the road descended, and on the other, the dim grey valley, stretching away into night.

Sieglinde had ridden forward alone for some distance; her face was set towards the valley's misty expanse. Now she faltered, and came to a standstill, for the road still wound its rough, steep course downward.

'It is so dark here, I can scarce see you,' she said to Guido, who came up to her side. She turned to him trembling. Father, I am afraid.'

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I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me," Guido answered, as, taking her hand, he guided her through the darkest depth of the valley.

Before them lay a wide marshy expanse, where nothing could be seen but here and there the shadowy forms of osiers and clumps of reeds, rising from out the wreathing fogs, which here were so dense as to be almost suffocating. Strange cries, like the voices of night-birds wheeling overhead, could be heard every now and then, suddenly piercing the silence, which seemed deep and mysterious as death. Riding became here very difficult, for their horses stumbled at every step, and shivered as if with fear. Sieglinde spoke no word, only Guido heard her sigh now and then.

Courage, courage, dear daughter,' he said. His voice sounded strange in the stillness, speaking now a verse of Scripture, and now her lord's name, to cheer her spirit.

He

Deeper, deeper they went into the darkness, slower at every step, until at last there was heard a sound like the ring of spurs approaching, and the next moment they saw coming forth from the fog a tall figure on foot in the white armour of Lord Agathos' knights. drew near to Sieglinde, and spoke to her in a low tone. Sieglinde turned to Guido and the rest, who had come up. 'I must say farewell here,' she said. My Lord orders me to go the rest of the way on foot, as is fitting my unworthiness; but this good knight will guide me. Is my Lord very far away?' she inquired of the knight.

'Not so far perhaps as you think,' he answered with a smile that seemed to light up for a moment the gloomy spot where they stood.

Then kneeling on the ground at Guido's feet, I thank you, Father,' Sieglinde said, 'for all your help and care for my soul; and I beseech your forgiveness for the pain that I have caused you to bear through my waywardness, and your blessing.'

The holy priest lifted his hands over her for the last time, and blessed her solemnly; and then she bid farewell to each of her servants, who were weeping, and last of all she turned to the knight and gave him her hand, for it was now dark. They could but just see her face, which seemed like a pale shadow, yet eagerly hoping; and so like a shadow she glided away from them into the great darkness. For a little while they watched the flutter of her garments and the gleam of the knight's white armour, and then they saw no more, but stood still, trying to pierce the night, with the icy breath of the fog upon their faces. They saw nothing; yet it seemed to them that there was One waiting there in the darkness nearer to them than they had thought, for as they stood gazing, there came to them a cry as of one in sudden rapture or ecstasy, and they thought it was Sieglinde's voice when she saw, and fell at her lord's feet.

And this comforted them; and when at last they turned to go, they saw that Guido's face was rapt, for he only had caught the sound of the song which the knights sing with clash of swords and shouting, when they welcome one home to Wonne Land

DEBATABLE GROUND.

Should custom and conventionality rule the lives of women, or no? Has Mrs. Grundy a beneficial influence?

Mrs. Grundy is, on the whole, surprisingly popular. Chelsea China considers her in this western world a changeable old lady, constantly modified for evil and for good by those who defy her. She rather wonders that no one has had a good fling at her. Very few have recognised that she may encourage as well as repress evil. On which side was she in the evil days of the Regency? Where, alas! in some circles is she now?

Look at India, where she has reigned supreme for centuries. What is it but Mrs. Grundy grown to a Begum, who rules the lives of Indian widows now?

Leonora, strongly in favour of Mrs. Grundy, who, she says, has 'moved with the times.' (Who have moved her-those who obeyed, or those who defied her?)

Matilda thinks our social laws and customs served our forefathers -why should we pretend to know better than our forefathers? They were governed by them, why not we?' (How about Undine's woad?)

Tre Pol and Pen writes a good paper on the sort of follies committed by girls, who wish to be thought unconventional. But if the public opinion of a 'set' is in favour of such license, it is rather hard to say on which side is the special Mrs. Grundy.

Bournemouth Beetle thinks that though custom and conventionality are not infallible, there are few such valuable guides to the young and inexperienced.

Harrie speaks well of the protection afforded by the rules of society, as a standard of appeal to young ladies placed in difficult and responsible situations, both as giving a comfortable sense of correctness, and as steering them through social difficulties. This is quite true.

Dorigen thinks Mrs. Grundy a great assistance to people who cannot do without her.

Elcaam, in a very good paper, recognises the fact that Mrs. Grundy can rule for evil as well as for good; but thinks that conventionality is quite necessary to the organisation of society, and thinks it valuable as tending to oneness, and therefore to love and sympathy. This is

quite a new idea to Chelsea China, who would like to see it rather more worked out.

Lamda, a very good and moderate paper, distinguishing between small things and great.

Unconventional thinks that at the present day, when progress is easy and certain, Mrs. Grundy, though an inferior goddess, may act as a useful check.

Spinning Jenny, though arguing for a reasonable obedience, is on the side of the 'ages,' and thinks that if a woman desires her life to be useful and beneficial, she should be ruled by custom and conventionality.

Rudge perceives that as the world moves onwards customs change and advance. Mrs. Grundy alters, and she adds: Let us discover to ourselves our true motive before we break through time-honoured conventionalities. Let us ask ourselves whether we do it to be remarkable, or because we think it right. If the latter, we may be sure courage and strength will be given us to brave the world's opinions; if the former, we may find that in refusing the guidance of conventionality, we have lost our way.

"The following assertion of Emerson's is a safe maxim

"What I must do is all that concerns me, not what people think.":

Alicia.-Dear, excellent, much-maligned Mrs. Grundy! May I seize the present occasion to lay a slight tribute of affection at your feet. I was just stepping forward when I heard a kind of gasp, and saw a sweet pretty girl standing beside me, 'Mrs. Grundy, but she is so very uninteresting!' Yes, just as uninteresting as the Ancient Roman or the Modern Englishman (whom she most resembles), for all three are Road-makers. Just think what we owe to the people who have made communication safe, swift, and easy by road or rail.'

Undine. It is the good green wood in late autumn, a north-easterly gale is blowing, and the oak leaves are scattering fast. Piles of acorns lie on the ground. An Ancient Briton, becomingly attired in a coating of brilliant blue woad, but otherwise unprotected from the cold, is contemplating a wolf skin at his feet. A friend, also blue as the skies of Italy, sits on a fallen log beside him.

First A. B.-' The wind is cold. That slain beast did not feel it. Ha! why should not I too wear a coat?' (seizes the wolf skin and wraps it gracefully round him). 'Ha-ha-ha! The wind may blow, I am warm!'

Second A. B.-Degenerate chieftain! When did a warrior care to protect himself from the cold. Coward! How, thus disfigured, can you appear on the battle-field! Woman! what maiden will be wooed by a creature thus disguised? Our fathers wore woad-and woad alone it is our custom, the only covering of a hero? wild beast, or a feeble girl?'

Are you a