r discrimination, and was well known in the sisterly
circle for the bad state of her affairs. Petrea had no turn for
accumulation; on the contrary, she had truly, although Louise would not
allow it, a certain turn for art.

She was always occupied by creations of one kind or another, either
musical, or architectural, or poetical. But all her creations contained
something of that which is usually called trash. At twelve years old she
wrote her first romance: "Annette and Belis loved each other tenderly;
they experienced adversity in their love; were at last, however, united,
and lived henceforth in a charming cottage, surrounded with hedges of
roses, and had eight children in one year," which we may call a very
honourable beginning. A year afterwards she began a tragedy, which was
to be called "Gustavus Adolphus and Ebba Brahe," and which opened with
these verses spoken by one Delagardie:

Now from Germania's coast returned,
I see again the much-loved strand;
From war I come, without a wound,
Once more into my native land.
Say, Banner say, what woe has caused these tears,
Am I not true to thee, or is it idle hope alone that will befool my years?

Whether no sheet of paper was broad enough to contain the lengthened
lines, or any other cause interfered to prevent the completion of the
piece, we know not; but certain it is that it was soon laid aside.
Neither did a piece of a jocular nature, which was intended to emulate
the fascinating muse of Madame Lenngren,[5] advance much further--the
beginning was thus:

Within the lordly castle Elfvakolastie,
Which lay, in sooth, somewhere in Sverge,[6]
There lived of yore the lovely Melanie,
The only daughter of Count Stjerneberge.

At the present time Petrea was engaged on a poem, the title of which,
written in large letters, ran thus--"The Creation of the World!"

The Creation of the World began thus:

CHAOS.

Once in the depths etern of darkness lying,
This mighty world
Waited expectantly the moments flying
When light should be unfurled.
The world was nothing then, which now is given
To crowds of busy men;
And all our beautiful star-spangled heaven
Was desolate darkness then;
Yet He was there, who before time existed,
Who will endure for ever.

The creation of the world ceased with this faint glimmering of light,
and was