At last they reached the house; and before he was fully conscious of the fact, he had received the hasty touch from the gloved fingers on his own. With a "good-night" distinctly uttered, Veronica had opened the door, and disappeared, before her husband did, in the dark-down by the chair in which she had been sitness of the hall.

Outside she stood, breathing deeply, under the lofty porch. Her heart was heavy. She had thrust back the saving hand which had guided her from her youth; she knew of none that she could grasp instead. Then, while she stood hesitating in the sunny square, she heard a child's voice near her, and a little brown hand offered for sale a full bunch of primroses. It was spring out in the world! It came like a message to her heart, as if she had not known it before.

relic shrine. In the nave of the church a few | seemed to her that every thing was stretching people were sitting or kneeling, with open prayer- out a hand to hold her there. books, preparing for confession. Nothing was to be heard except the murmur at the confessionals, with now and then a deep-drawn breath, or the rustle of a dress, or a light step over the flags of the pavement. Soon Veronica was kneeling at one of the confessionals, near an image of the Virgin, which looked down upon her compassionately. Her perfectly black dress made the paleness of her face more noticeable. The priest, a vigorous man in middle life, leaned his head against the grating which separated him from his penitent. Veronica repeated in a low voice the introductory words, "I, a poor, sinful creature ;" and, with a trembling voice, she continued, "acknowledge before God and you, a priest, standing in the place of God—” But her words came more and more slowly and unintelligibly. At last she was silent.

The priest's dark eye was calm, and rested on her with an expression of weariness, for the confessions had been going on for hours. "Reconcile yourself to the Lord!" he said, mildly. "Sin killeth, but atonement maketh alive."

She tried to collect her thoughts; and again, as so often it had happened since that hour, the noise of the mill was in her inward ear; and again she stood before him in the mysterious twilight, her hands clasped in his, closing her eyes in the tumult of overmastering emotion, bound fast by shame, not daring to flee, still less to remain. Her lips moved, but they uttered nothing; they moved in vain.

The priest was silent for a time. "Courage, my daughter," he said at last, as he raised his head, with its thick black hair. "Think of the words of the Lord: 'Receive the Spirit; whose sins ye remit, to him they are remitted.'"

She bent toward the child, and bought its flowers; then, with the nosegay in her hand, went down the street toward the town gate. The sunshine lay bright on the stones; from the open window of a house there came the loud song of a canary. Moving slowly on, she reached the last house. From this point a foot-path led toward the line of hills which bordered the town territory in this direction. Veronica breathed more freely. Her eyes rested on the green grain-fields which lay near the road. Now and then a breeze brought the delicate odor of the primroses which grew at the foot of the hills. Farther on, where the pine wood began, at the edge of the fields, the path grew steeper, and demanded considerable exertion, although Veronica had always been used to mountain climbing. She stopped half-way, and looked down from the shadow of the pines on the sunny valley that lay beneath her.

When she had reached the hill-top she seated herself amidst the wild thyme which covered the ground; and while she breathed the fragrant air of the wood her eye wandered to the blue mountains that lay in the horizon. Behind her blew the wind through the tops of the pine-trees, dying away at intervals, while from She looked up. The red face, the large bull- the depths of the wood came, now and then, neck of the man in priestly robes, were close the stroke of the woodpecker, or from the air before her eyes. She began again, but an un- above her the cry of some bird of prey, hovering conquerable reluctance overcame her, a shrink-invisible in the measureless space. Veronica ing as from some impure deed, worse than what took off her hat, and leaned her head on her she had come here to confess. She felt fright-hand. ened. Was not what rose within her a temp- Thus, in loneliness and stillness, some time tation of the deadly sin from which she wished to free herself? She bent her head in a silent conflict on the prayer-book lying before her. Meantime the wearied expression vanished from the priest's face. He began to speak, earnestly and impressively, and soon with all the magic of persuasion; low, but ringing, the tone town. She raised her head, and listened. It of his voice fell on her ear. At any other tolled quick and clear. "Requiescat!" she time she would have sunk to the ground under said to herself; for she knew the little bell of its influence; but now the newly awakened the church of St. Lambert as it announced to feeling was stronger than all the power of its congregation that the dark messenger from words, or all the habits of her youth. Her the Lord had entered one of their dwellings. hand felt for her veil, which had fallen back over her hat. "Pardon, reverend Sir," she stammered. Then, shaking her head silently, she drew down her veil, and, without having received the sign of the cross, rose and went down the aisle with hasty steps. Her dress rustled against the seats; she drew it round her. It

passed. Nothing came near her but the pure breezes, which played upon her brow, and the cry of the animals, which struck her ear from the distance. Meantime a bright color flushed her cheeks, and her eyes grew large and beaming. The sound of a bell came up from the

At the foot of the hill lay the church-yard. She saw the stone cross on the grave of her father, who, within a year, had died in her arms while the priest was praying. And farther on, where the water was shining, was that desolate spot of ground, which, as a child, she had often regarded with, shy curiosity, where, by com

mand of the Church, those who had committed | suicide were buried, together with those who had not come to take the sacrament at the altar. There was her place now, for the time of Easter confession was over. A painful contraction convulsed her mouth, but it vanished again. She rose; a resolution stood firm and clear in her soul.

A little while longer she looked down upon the town, and let her eye wander over the sunlit roofs, as if seeking something. Then she turned, and went down through the pine-trees as she had come. She was soon among the green grain-fields again. She seemed to hasten; but she walked erect, and with a firm step. So she reached her home. She heard from the maid-servant that her husband was in his study. When she opened the door, and saw him sitting so calmly at his writing-table, she stood hesitating on the threshold.

"Franz," she called, gently.

He laid down his pen. "Is it you, Vroni ?" he said, turning toward her. "You are late. Was the list of sins so long?"

ENCHANTMENT.

BY ALICE CARY.

SHORT TRIPS TO EUROPE.

[ANY Americans are deterred from visiting

value.

History has fresh interest. Story becomes reality. He lives his travels over again with all the pleasure of one who has passed

MANY Americans disturbed condition of af years in wandering.

fairs in France, and many others by the mistaken notion that one must have a long vacation if he would make a pleasant trip across the water.

To the first difficulty we have no answer to offer, if Paris be included in any one's plan of travel. It is as well to wait a while. We are not of those who think the prestige of Paris forever gone, nor is there any reason to imagine that the French capital has suffered any diminution of splendor or gayety. On the contrary, a month of calm and perfect peace will undoubtedly remove every trace of the effects of war, and Paris will be Paris for a century. The trees in the Bois de Boulogne will be missed; but no more than in the Central Park of New York, where they are yet to grow; and the drives will be as thronged and as brilliant hereafter as heretofore. The fashions will rule supreme for some time to come, and certainly until some other people learn that indescribable something of taste and grace which distinguishes the French dress-makers.

But the general notion that a short visit to Europe is not worth making is a great error, and in these days of rapid transit should be dismissed from the mind of every one who has the means and the desire to travel. For travel is worth doing. It is education, and a very great part of education. It helps immensely in enabling men to measure themselves. It reduces egotism, while it cultivates just pride in one's own country and its institutions. It fits the young for reading and for appreciation. It is worth much while one is traveling, and worth vastly more for years after one has come home.

The purpose of this article is to help those who may desire to know what they can do in a brief time on the other side of the water.

And firstly and chiefly, all travelers for long or short time are apt to err in the desire to do too much. It is safe to say that many years may be passed in European travel without accomplishing all that could be done, and done with interest and profit. The traveler who expects to "do" Enrope in two years finds himself as thoroughly mistaken as the one who thought to do it in one, or in six months. It would be vastly better for all who travel to direct their ideas toward one country, where,they design to pass most of their time, and leave others to be visited as excursions of pleasure. Who that knows Switzerland at all will imagine that he could see all its glories and fill himself to satisfaction with the beauty and magnificence of its scenery in one, two, or five summers?

Happy is he who can find two or three months of leisure for a run to Europe, since in that time he can see so much that he has a treasure within himself forever after out of which he can draw endless delight. His books become new to him, and new books have new VOL. XLIII-No. 253.-9

It is so very easy for an American to see Jerusalem, and yet few think of it as a possibility. The vacation time of summer is not fitted for Oriental travel, but many a man would go to the Holy Land if he but once took in the idea that he could accomplish it safely and comfortably, and return to New York within eight or ten weeks from the day of starting. The first objection which he raises to this suggestion is caused by his desire to linger along the way; and he thinks it impossible to push through so much travel and miss so much on the route. But go where he will, and linger where he will, he must miss a thousand other places that he would like to see, and he stays at home and misses all. Let him start from home, whatever he does, with a fixed object-to see a certain place, and take all else by the way. Then it matters little whether it be London or Jerusalem, he will accomplish an object, and incidentally do a great deal more.

Suppose that he says, "I will see Jerusalem." He should leave New York with Jerusalem in view. Twelve days will take him comfortably, with his family, to London; the thirteenth day he will reach Cologne, on the Rhine; and on the fourteenth he will go up the river-bank by rail, and sleep that night, if he choose, at Mayence or Heidelberg, or push on into the heart of Germany. Then, in five days of easy day traveling, he will go through Munich and Innsprück, the heart of the Tyrol, and over the Brenner Pass by rail, through Lombardy, to Verona; thence down through Italy, by places famed in history, till he finds himself comfortably settled in the new hotel at Brindisi, on the shore of the Adriatic and Mediterranean. All of his route has thus far been in luxurious railway carriages, and the scenery of every variety known to the world, from the beautiful Rhine Valley to snow-capped Alps, and the green plains of Lombardy. The ride down through Italy, especially among the Apennines, is worth the whole journey once to take. It is only three days across the Mediterranean from Brindisi to Alexandria. Let him add four days or a week to his time, and he may run up to Cairo and see the pyramids of Egypt, go down to Suez and see the Red Sea, and look across at the wilderness of Sinai, and return to Alexandria in time for a steamer, two days, to Jaffa.

There is a hotel at the port of Jonah's departure, and if he be in good health, and the ladies with him have strength for a long day's ride on a walking horse, he can go up to Jerusalem in twelve hours, and thus his pilgrimage is accomplished. There are good hotels all along his route, and the time, as we have indicated it, is long for the route, because we suppose the party sleeping comfortably always at night, making only easy railway journeys by day. The route can be shortened several days

by night travel, and gentlemen traveling alone will often gain much by riding in the night, or part of the night, and visiting cities and places of interest in the day. The return route may be varied, with only a short addition of time, by taking the Austrian Lloyds steamer from Alexandria to Trieste, or the French Messagerie Impériale steamer to Marseilles. When the Mont Cenis Tunnel route is opened the whole time from London to Brindisi will be shortened to four or five days, and Jerusalem may be reached in twenty days from New York, if the steamers happen to connect exactly.

to Ostend, and continue by rail on the same day to Brussels, and here we start on our continental time-table. It is three days since we left Liverpool, having rested only a day in London.

A day in Brussels to see the cathedral, and another to visit the field of Waterloo, will be time well spent, and then it will pay well to pass the next day in Antwerp. But our route is to Cologne, and we go there in a few hours by rail. Brussels to Cologne, one day; Cologne to Coblentz, by Rhine boat, one day; Coblentz to Mayence, by boat, one day; Mayence to Baden-Baden, by rail, one day; Baden-Baden to Basle, by rail, one day. These five days of delicious and easy travel may be com

But we have mentioned this Eastern trip only as an illustration of the rapidity with which travel can be accomplished. Our present object is rather to furnish information for the pres-pressed into two if you are in haste, and choose ent summer, when many of our readers have the to do it all by rail, or even into one day and time, and may have the inclination, to make a night. short run across the sea.

Switzerland is divided into two general parts by the mountains commonly known as the Bernese Alps. North of these lies Lake Lucerne, and south of them is the Rhone Valley. We will not undertake to make a guide-book of Switzerland in a brief article; but we will show what can be accomplished in a few days, making Lucerne our head-quarters in the northern part of the country.

Basle is the northern frontier town of Switzerland. Three hours hence you reach Schaffhausen, the Rhine falls. The next day you will go in a few hours to Lucerne, and make this your head-quarters for at least two weeks.

There is scarcely a spot of interest in Northern Switzerland which can not be reached in a few hours, by rail or carriage or boat, from Lucerne. The Rhigi is close by. You may go by boat to Altorf in the morning, take a carriage to Andermatt, the top of the St. Gothard

Count, as deducted from the time allotted to the journey, twenty-two days, to cover the voyage out and back from New York to Liverpool, and let us meet the traveler in Liverpool as he lands from the steamer. There is nothing here to detain him for an hour, unless he wishes to inspect the great docks, for Liverpool is only a commercial city, and in many respects is like New York. He wishes to go to the Continent, and we will set our faces thitherward at once. France is in such an unsettled condition now that we can lose nothing, and may gain much, by postponing our visit to Paris a few weeks, and we will, therefore, take it in our return route, while we devote the first few weeks of our time to the Rhine and Switzerland. We go to London in a few hours. London is full of hotels, yet strangers know little about them, and hesitate much in going there as to their place of rest. The large hotels, like the Lang-Pass, beyond the Devil's Bridge, spend a night ham, the Charing Cross, and others, are well enough for those who have but a day or two to stay; but if the traveler proposes to rest any time, he should go out and find good rooms at one of the numerous quiet family hotels centrally situated. Fenton's in St. James Street, or Mrs. Edwards's in George Street, or Fleming's in Half-Moon Street, or any one of fifty others, will give him the accommodation he needs, and make him quite at home. But we have determined to pass four or six weeks in Switzerland; and that being our object, we linger on the route only as it may suit our pleasure, not with the design of accomplishing any travel work. For no one should make travel a labor.

We will go down to Dover in the afternoon, and pass a night at the Lord Warden Hotel, so that we may judge in the morning if the weather is pleasant to cross the Channel. If the steamers were large, the Channel crossing would be of small account. But the harbors are so shallow that they can not use large vessels. The regular boats are superb specimens of naval architecture; small, but strong and safe. The route is through Belgium, and we cross

there, and return to Lucerne the next day. Or
from Andermatt you may drive on to Coire, and
pass a day or two in exploring the Via Mala
and other routes in that vicinity, and return to
Lucerne by rail from Coire. On the return you
should pass a night at Ragatz, visiting the Baths
of Pfeffers, one of the most remarkable places
in the world. From Lucerne you may go up
the lake to Brunnen, and drive on the same
day to Einsiedeln, the wonderful monastery.
Thence go on to Lake Zurich, cross the long
bridge at Rapperschwyl, and take the rail to
Zurich and Lucerne, reaching the latter place
after only one night's absence. Or Einsiedeln
may be taken on the return from Ragatz. Let
us add up some days of time:

Lucerne to the Rhigi and back.
Lucerne to Andermatt..
Andermatt to Coire.

Up and down the Via Mala.
To Ragatz.

To Rapperschwyl and Einsiedeln.
To Brunnen and Lucerne.
Lucerne to St. Gall.

St. Gall to Appenzell..

Appenzell to Alstetten and down to Con

stance...

Constance to Lucerne...

Days.

1

The simple fact is that one may pass a week