housand hearts, and that
with a noble and conciliatory intention which the dedication well
expresses.

The admirable delineation of character, the richness of invention, the
artistic arrangement, the lively descriptions of nature, will be ever
more fully acknowledged by the sympathizing reader as he advances in the
perusal of the attractive volumes.

TO HIS HIGHNESS ERNEST II.,

DUKE OF SAXE-COBURG-GOTHA.

I visited Kallenberg one lovely evening in the month of May. The high
ground near the castle was steeped in perfume from the blossoms of the
spring, and the leaves of the pink acacia cast their checkered shadows
on the dewy grass. Beneath me, in the shady valley, deer bounded
fearless from their covert in the wood, following greedily with their
eyes the bright figure of that lady who greets with kind and hospitable
welcome all who enter the precincts of the castle--men, and all living
things. The repose of evening lay on hill and dale; no sound was heard
save the occasional roll of thunder from afar above the bright and
cheerful landscape. On this very evening, leaning against the wall of
the ancient castle, your highness gazed with troubled aspect into the
gloomy distance. What my noble prince then said about the conflicts of
the last few years, the relaxed and utterly despondent temper of the
nation, and the duty of authors, at such a time especially, to show the
people, for their encouragement and elevation, as in a mirror, what they
are capable of doing--those were golden words, revealing a great grasp
of intellect and a warm heart, and their echo will not soon die away in
the heart of him who heard them. It was on that evening the desire awoke
within me to grace with your highness's name the work whose plan had
been already in my mind.

Nearly two years have passed since then. A terrible war is raging, and
Germans look with gloomy apprehension to the future of their fatherland.
At such a time, when the strongest political feelings agitate the life
of every individual, that spirit of cheerful tranquillity, so needful to
an author for the artistic moulding of his creations, readily forsakes
his writing-table. It is long, alas! since the German author has enjoyed
it. He has far too little interest in home and foreign life; he wants
that composure and proud satisfaction which the writers of other
countries feel in dwelling on the past and present of their nation,
while he has enough and to spare of humi