up the story that we copy from it in extenso.

She was at breakfast with her husband, and heard that something was intended. On the same day she expected Generals Burgoyne, Phillips, and Frazer, to dine with her. She saw a great movement among the troops, and inquired the cause; her husband told her it was merely a reconnoisance, which gave her no concern, as it often happened. She walked out of the house and met several Indians in their war dresses, with guns in their hands. When she asked them where they were going, they cried out "War, war," (meaning they were going to battle). This filled her with apprehension, and she scarcely got home before she heard reports of cannon and musketry, which grew louder by degrees till at last the noise became excessive. About four o'clock in the afternoon, instead of the guests whom she expected, General Frazer was brought on a litter mortally wounded. The table which was already set, was instantly removed and a bed placed in its stead for the wounded general. She sat trembling in a corner; the noise grew louder, and the alarm increased; the thought that her husband might perhaps be brought in wounded in the same way, was terrible to her, and distressed her exceedingly. General Frazer said to the surgeon, "tell me if my wound is mortal; do not flatter The ball had passed through his body, and unhappily for the General, he had eaten a very hearty breakfast, by which the stomach was distended, and the ball, as the surgeon said, had passed through it. She heard him often exclaim with a sigh, "Oh! fatal ambition! Poor General Burgoyne! Oh! my poor wife!" He was asked if he had any request to make; to which he replied, that if General Burgoyne would permit it, he should like to be buried at six o'clock in the evening on the top of a hill, on a redoubt which had been built there. She says she did not know which way to turn-all the other rooms were full of sick. Towards evening she saw her husband coming; then she forgot all her sorrows, and thanked God that he was spared to her. He eat in great baste with her, and his aid-de-camp, behind the house. She had been told that they had the advantage of the enemy, but the sorrowful faces she beheld told a different tale, and before her husband went away he took her one side and said every

me!

thing was going very bad-that she must keep herself in readiness to leave the place, but not to mention it to any one. She made the pretence that she would move into her new house the next morning, and had every thing packed up ready.

Lady Harriet Ackland had a tent not far from her house; in this she slept, and the rest of the day she was in the camp. All of a sudden a man came to tell her that her husband was mortally wounded and taken prisoner. On hearing this she became very miserable; the Baroness comforted her by telling her the wound was only slight, and at the same time advised her to go over to her husband, to do which she would certainly obtain permission, and then she could attend to him herself. She was a charming woman, and very fond of him. The Baroness spent much of the night in comforting her, and then went again to her children whom she put to bed. She could not go to sleep, as she had General Frazer and all the other wounded gentlemen in her room, and she was sadly afraid her children would awake, and by their crying disturb the dying man in his last moments, who often addressed her and apologized "for the trouble he gave her." About 3 o'clock in the morning she was told he could not hold out much longer. She had desired to be informed of the near approach of this sad crisis, and she then wrapped up her children in their clothes, and went with them into the room below. About 8 o'clock in the morning he died. After he was laid out and his corpse wrapped up in a sheet, she came again into the room, and had this horrible sight before her the whole day; and to add to this melancholy scene, almost every moment some officer of her acquaintance was brought in wounded. The cannonade commenced again; a retreat was spoken of, but not the smallest motion was made towards it. About 4 o'clock in the afternoon she saw the house which had just been built for her in flames, and the enemy was now not far off. General Burgoyne would not refuse the last request of General Frazer, though, by his acceding, an unnecessary delay was occasioned, by which the inconvenience of the army was much increased. At 6 o'clock the corpse was brought out, and she saw all the generals attend it to the hill; the chaplain, Mr. Brudenel, performed the funeral service, rendered unusually so

"The incessant cannonade during the solemnity, the steady attitude and unaltered voice with which the chaplain officiated, though frequently covered with dust, which the shot threw up on all sides of him; the mute but expressive mixture of sensibility and indignation upon every countenance; these objects will remain till the last of life upon the mind of every man who was present. The growing darkness added to the scenery, and the whole marked a character of that juncture, that would make one of the finest subjects for the pencil of a master, that the field ever exhibited. To the canvass and to the faithful page of a more important historian, gallant friend, I consign thy memory. There may thy talents, thy manly virtues, their progress, and their period, find due distinction, and long may they survive after the frail record of my pen shall be forgotten,"

Scarcely less touching in tender interest is the story of Lady Ackland, the wife of Major Ackland who fell wounded during General Root's attack upon the right wing of the British army. In the rapid retreat of the British forces from the field, he was left behind. One of General Gates' aids, Wilkinson, riding rapidly after the flying foe, heard a cry at his side, "Protect me, for God's sake, from that boy!" Reining up his horse, he saw an officer, wounded, lying in an angle of a worm fence, and apparently unable to move. Just on the other side stood a boy of twelve or fourteen years old, raising his gun with the intention of shooting the wounded man. He immediately sprang from his horse over the fence, knocked up the boy's musket, and upon learning the name of his prisoner, had him immediately conveyed to his own quarters.

Among the ladies who had accompanied their husbands upon General Bur

goyne's expedition, was the wife of Major Ackland. She is represented to have been beautiful, accomplished, and of great simplicity and gentleness of manner and heart. Her narrative of the campaign shows her to have been a good scholar, and a writer of much vivacity and cleverness. Upon learning that her husband was wounded and a prisoner, she requested a pass from General Burgoyne to go over to the enemy and take care of him. Burgoyne was astonished at the request, but knew not how to refuse it. Accompanied by Rev. Mr. Brudenel, the chaplain of the army, her husband's valet, and Sarah Pollard, her waiting-maid, she started in an open boat during a violent storm of wind, and proceeded the whole distance exposed to its fury through the night. She arrived safely within the lines of the American army, and was immediately conducted to her husband's quarters.

The letter of General Burgoyne to General Gates, which follows, has been frequently remarked upon as admirable for its felicity of style and great propriety of expression, considering the circumstances under which it was written:

"SIR-Lady Harriet Ackland, a lady of the first distinction of family, rank, and personal virtues, is under such concern on account of Major Ackland, her husband, wounded, and a prisoner in your hands, that I cannot refuse her request to commit her to your protection. Whatever general impropriety there may be in persons in my situation and yours to solicit favors, I cannot see the uncommon perseverance in every female grace and exaltation of character of this lady, and her very hard fortune, without testifying that your attentions to her will lay me under obligations.

"I am, sir, your ob't serv't,

"J. BURGOYNE."

Major Ackland was removed to New York, where he recovered from his wounds. While prisoner in the city, his high moral rectitude and deep sensibility gained for him many friends. No man during the war did more than he to alleviate the sufferings of the American prisoners. His death was tragical and sad. At a dinner table where he was present, after his exchange, the courage of the Americans was called in question. Major Ackland defended them. Some personal allusion was made in reply, to which he gave the lie. A meeting followed, in which he was shot through the head.

Lady Harriet lost her senses, and continued deranged two years; after which she married the Rev. Mr. Brudenel, the same gentleman who had accompanied her from the camp of Burgoyne to that of General Gates, when in pursuit of her wounded husband.

We cannot better close this desultory sketch, than by another quotation from the very clever narrative of the Baroness de Riedesdel. We should be glad to see her whole work republished in this country, where it has long been out of print. As a spirited and vivid sketch of the incidents of that unfortunate campaign, about which volumes have been written, it has no equal. It gives also a better insight to camp life than we have elsewhere seen. Free from the prejudice with which an English woman of that day would have regarded things on this side of the water, full of the home affections which a German woman brings from Faderland and rears in the little nursery which she will make wherever she sojourns,-generous in her feelings towards friends and foes-loving adventure much, but her husband and children more-always contemplative, but never sad-hopeful even to the last, and joyous in every new prospect before her-possessing virtue without censoriousness and chastity without prudery-she was the woman among a thousand whom the wise King of Israel lamented he could not find.

"On the 17th of October, the capitulation was carried into effect. The Generals waited upon the American General, Gates, and the troops surrendered themselves prisoners of war, and laid down their arms. The time had now come for the good woman who had risked her life to supply them with water, to receive the reward of her services. Each of them threw a handfull of money into her apron, and she thus received more than twenty guineas. At such a moment, at least, if at no other, the heart easily overflows with gratitude.

"When the Baroness drew near the tents, a good-looking man, she says, advanced towards her, and helped the children from the calash, and kissed and caressed them; he then offered her his arm, and tears trembled in her eyes. You tremble,' said he; do not be alarmed, I pray you.' Sir,' cried she, a countenance so expressive of benevolence, and kindness which you evinced towards my children, are sufficient to dispel all apprehensions.' He then ushered her into the tent of General Gates, whom she found engaged in friendly conversation with Generals Bur

goyne and Phillips. General Burgoyne said to her: You can now be quite free from apprehension of danger.' She replied that she should indeed be reprehensible, if she felt any anxiety when their General felt none, and was on such friendly terms with General Gates.

"The gentleman who received her, she says, with so much kindness, came and said to her: You may find it embarrassing to be the only lady in such a large company of gentlemen; will you come, with your children, to my tent, and partake of a frugal dinner, offered with the best will? By the kindness you show to me,' returned she, you induce me to believe that you her that he was General Schuyler. He rehave a wife and children.' He informed galed her, she says, with smoked tongue, which were excellent, with beef-steaks, potatoes, fresh butter and bread. Never did a dinner, she says, give so much pleasure as this. She was easy, after many months of anxiety; and there was the same happy change in those around her. That her husband was out of danger, was a still greater cause of joy to her. After their dinner, General Schuyler begged her to pay him a visit at his house, near Albany, where he expected that General Burgoyne would also be his guest. She sent to ask her husband's directions, who advised her to accept the invitation. As they were two day's journey from Albany, and it was now near five o'clock in the afternoon, General Schuyler wished her to reach on that day a place distant about three hour's ride. He carried his civilities so far as to solicit a well-bred French officer to accompany her on the first part of her jour

ney.

"On the next day they reached Albany, where they so often wished themselves. But they did not enter that city, as they hoped they should, with a victorious army. The reception, however, which they met from General Schuyler, his wife and daughters, was not like the reception of enemies, but of the most intimate friends. They loaded them, she says, with kindness; and they behaved in the same manner towards General Burgoyne, though he had ordered their splendid establishment to be burnt, and without any necessity, as it was said. But all their actions proved, that at the sight of the misfortunes of others, they quickly forgot their own. General Burgoyne was so much affected by this generous deportment, that he said to General Schuyler: You are too kind to me who have done you so much injury. Such is the fate of war,' replied he. Let us not dwell on this subject.' The Baroness remained three days with that excellent family, and they seemed to regret her departure."

THE legend of Rübezahl, the Robin Goodfellow of the Germans, has afforded material for many popular tales and poems. The best known of these is that of Musäus, in his " Volksmährchen," Wenzel has it also in his Legends of the Riesengebirge; and the "Book of Rübezahl," and a dramatic tale founded on the same tradition, have found no little favor in their own land, though they have never reached this country. A sketch of some few of the superstitions current, respecting this mountain spirit, may not be unacceptable.

The ancient spirit, so says the legend, to whom God at the creation gave the sovereignty of the Riesengebirge, (giant mountains,) saw at last that the hour was come in which he must depart from his kingdom, and experience the change to which all created beings are subject, and which among mortals is called death. He called his son to his presence, and gave him his parting counsel to abide by his precepts, and show himself worthy to rule over the race of gnomes.

"And forasmuch as I know," continued the spirit, "that thou hast an inclination after companionship with men, I warn thee to shun them! They are false as the serpent that beguiled their first mother; and will repay thy kindness with ingratitude. Avoid them!" Once more he embraced his son, bade farewell to the gnomes who surrounded them, and disappeared from their midst.

The son mourned sincerely for his father; but all mourning must have an end; and ere long he labored cheerfully with the goblins of the mountains, forming the shining metals, and controlling and guiding the subterranean fires. For a long time he remained faithful to his sire's command, to stay in his hereditary

Prometheus Unbound.

kingdom and shun the upper world. At last the old desire returned upon him, and he could no longer withstand the wish to visit regions lighted by the sun.

"I must go up !" he said to his friends. "Work for me, meanwhile; for I shall soon return."

A moment after, and he stood on the highest point of the Riesengebirge, looking down on the varied and cheerful scene of human life. At the first glimpse of the sun he was nearly blinded; but he soon became accustomed to the rays, and was able to gaze at it undazzled. Thence he descended from the lonely height, invisible to the eyes of men, to observe more closely the race which his father had assured him, were dangerous even to more powerful spirits.

He halted in a beautiful vale at the foot of the mountains. It was spring-time, the odor of flowers filled the air; the hum of insects mingled with the rustling of boughs, stirred by the morning breeze. The spirit sighed he had never felt so happy; and yet he felt there was something wanting.

The rustling among the bushes on one side grew louder; the boughs were parted, and a maiden came forth, of such wondrous beauty that the spirit knew not at first if she were a child of earth or an angel. It was Livia, the daughter of Prince Barzanuph, who at that time reigned over a part of Silesia.

The companions of the princess, lovely girls also, joined her, and they sang sweet songs, and played games till interrupted by a wonderful concert of nightingales, that at the bidding of the earth spirit, warbled with a melody never heard before. The Princess could hardly express her surprise and delight, when a new miracle called her attention; where