now became apparent that the notes had struck their hearing at
the same time. To say that they were charmed would but half express
their ecstatic condition. They were absolutely entranced.

The huge old serpent lolled along the waters for a hundred feet or so,
and never so much as shook the spray from his hide. He looked like
Milton's portrait of Satan, stretched out upon the burning marl of hell.
In perfect contrast with the sea monster, the beautiful mermaiden lifted
her pallid face above the water, dripping with the crystal tears of the
lake, and gathering her long raven locks, that floated like the train of
a meteor down her back, she carelessly flung them across her swelling
bosom, as if to reproach us for gazing upon her beauteous form. But
there my eyes were fastened! If she were entranced by the music, I was
not less so with her beauty. Presently the roseate hues of a dying
dolphin played athwart her brow and cheeks, and ere long a gentle sigh,
as if stolen from the trembling chords of an Eolian harp, issued from
her coral lips. Again and again it broke forth, until it beat in full
symphony with the cadences of Juan's rustic flute.

My attention was at this moment aroused by the suspicious clicking of my
comrade's rifle. Turning around suddenly, I beheld Liehard, with his
piece leveled at the unconscious mermaid.

"Great God!" I exclaimed! "Liehard, would you commit murder?" But the
warning came too late, for instantaneously the quick report of his rifle
and the terrific shriek of the mermaid broke the noontide stillness;
and, rearing her bleeding form almost entirely out of the water, she
plunged headlong forwards, a corpse. Beholding his prey, powerless
within his grasp, the serpent splashed toward her, and, ere I could cock
my rifle, he had seized her unresisting body, and sank with it into the
mysterious caverns of the lake. At this instant, I gave a loud outcry,
as if in pain. On opening my eyes, my wife was bending over me, the
midday sun was shining in my face, Dick Barter was spinning some
confounded yarn about the Bay of Biscay and the rum trade of Jamaica,
and the sloop _Edith Beaty_ was still riding at anchor off the wild
glen, and gazing tranquilly at her ugly image in the crystal mirror of
Lake Bigler.

[Decoration]

[Decoration]

X.

_ROSENTHAL'S ELAINE._

I stood and gazed far out into the waste;
No dip of oar broke on the listening ear;
But the quick rippling o