etty
eyes--pretty eyes!"--he sprang over the railing.

When Nathaniel lay on the stone pavement, with his head shattered,
Coppelius had disappeared in the crowd.

Many years afterwards it is said that Clara was seen in a remote spot,
sitting hand in hand with a kind-looking man before the door of a
country house, while two lively boys played before her. From this it
may be inferred that she at last found that quiet domestic happiness
which suited her serene and cheerful mind, and which the morbid
Nathaniel would never have given her.

J. O.

[1] Two characters in Schiller's play of "Die Raeuber."

MICHAEL KOHLHAAS,[1]

BY HEINRICH VON KLEIST.

On the banks of the Hafel, about the middle of the sixteenth century,
lived a horse-dealer, named Michael Kohlhaas. He was the son of a
schoolmaster, and was one of the most honest, while at the same time he
was one of the most terrible persons of his period. Till his thirtieth
year this extraordinary man might have passed as a pattern of a good
citizen. In a village, which still bears his name, he held a farm, on
which, by means of his business, he was enabled to live quietly. The
children whom his wife bore him, he brought up in the fear of God to
honesty and industry; and there was not one among his neighbours who
had not felt the benefit of his kindness or his sense of justice. In
short, the world might have blessed his memory had he not carried one
virtue to too great an extreme. The feeling of justice made him a
robber and a murderer.

He was once riding abroad, with a string of young horses, all sleek and
well-fed, and was calculating how he should expend the profit which he
hoped to make in the markets--apportioning part, like a good manager,
to gain further profit, and part to present enjoyment--when he came to
the Elbe, and found, by a stately castle in the Saxon dominion, a
toll-bar, which he had never seen on this road. He at once stopped
with his horses, while the rain was pouring down, and called to the
toll-taker, who soon, with a very cross face, peeped out of window.
The horse-dealer asked him to open the road. "What new fashion is
this?" said he, when, after a considerable time, the collector came out
of his house. "A sovereign privilege," was his reply, as he unlocked
the bar, "granted to the Squire[2] Wenzel von Tronka." "So," said
Kohlhaas, "Wenzel's the squire's name, is it?"--and he looked at the
castle, which, with its glitte