the three toads of Nideck, which latter
our kings have converted into three _fleurs-de-lis_.

All the antiquaries of Alsace envied him this admirable and interesting
discovery. On both banks of the Rhine he was known as doctor,
doctissimus, eruditus Bernardus, under which triumphal titles he dilated
with honest pride, while he tried to bear his honours with becoming
gravity.

And now, my dear friends, if you are curious to know what became
of old Irmengarde, refer to the second volume of Bernard Hertzog's
_Archeological Annals_, where under date July 16,1836, you will find
the following statement:--

"The old teller of legends, Irmengarde, surnamed '_The Soul of the
Ruins_,' died last night in the hut of the woodman Christian. Wonderful
to relate, in the very same hour, almost the same minute, the principal
tower of Nideck fell, and was washed away by the waterfall below.

"Such is the end of the most ancient monument known of Merovingian
architecture, of which Schlosser, the historian, says," etc., etc.

THE QUEEN OF THE BEES.

"As you go from Motiers-Navers to Boudry, on your way to Neufchatel," said
the young professor of botany, "you follow a road between two walls of
rocks of immense height; they reach a perpendicular elevation of five or
six hundred feet, and are hung with wild plants, the mountain basil
(thymus alpinus), ferus (polypodium), the whortleberry (vitis idoea),
ground ivy, and other climbing plants producing a wonderful effect.

"The road winds along this defile; it rises, falls, turns, sometimes
tolerably level, sometimes broken and abrupt, according to the thousand
irregularities of the ground. Grey rocks almost meet in an arch overhead,
others stand wide apart, leaving the distant blue visible, and
discovering sombre and melancholy-looking depths, and rows of firs
as far as the eye could reach.

"The Reuss flows along the bottom, sometimes leaping along in waterfalls,
then creeping through thickets, or steaming, foaming, and thundering over
precipices, while the echoes prolong the tumult and roar of its torrents
in one immense endless hum. Since I left Tubingen the weather had
continued fine; but when I reached the summit of this gigantic staircase,
about two leagues distant from the little hamlet of Novisaigne, I
suddenly noticed great grey clouds begin passing overhead, which soon
filled up the defile entirely; this vapour was so dense that it soon
penetrated my clothes as a h