ere he stood, like a tree half in
sunshine and half in shade; gratification struggling with displeasure in
his countenance, and wonder eclipsing both. It was not by any means our
policy to wait until he had adjusted the balance, and made up his mind
as to the exact degree of gratitude he owed his guests. On, accordingly,
we passed to the door. In a moment the instinct of courtesy prevailed,
and our host made a sign to one of his retinue. His slaves preceded us
with torches (it had grown late); and, accompanied by half the
household, as a guard of honor, we again traversed the large and
straggling house, passed through the garden, and entered the carriage
which waited for us beyond the wall. Our evening passed rapidly away as
we discussed our adventure; and I have more than once thought, with
pleasure, how amusing an incident the visit of the strangers must have
been to the secluded beauties. No doubt the baths of Constantinople have
rung with many a merry laugh occasioned by this invasion of the Franks.
Never, perhaps, have the inmates of a harem seen so much of the infidel
before, and conversed with him so familiarly, in the presence of their
husband.

[From Sharpe's Magazine.]

THE WIFE OF KONG TOLV.[14]

A FAIRY TALE OF SCANDINAVIA.

BY THE AUTHOR "COLA MONTI."

Hyldreda Kalm stood at the door of her cottage, and looked abroad into
the quietness of the Sabbath morn. The village of Skjelskoer lay at a
little distance down the vale, lighted by the sunshine of a Zealand
summer, which, though brief, is glowing and lovely even as that of the
south. Hyldreda had looked for seventeen years upon this beautiful
scene, the place where she was born. Sunday after Sunday she had stood
thus and listened for the distant tinkle of the church bell. A stranger,
passing by, might have said, how lovely were her face and form; but the
widowed mother, whose sole stay she was, and the little delicate sister,
who had been her darling from the cradle, would have answered, that if
none were so fair, none were likewise so good as Hyldreda; and that all
the village knew. If she did love to bestow greater taste and care on
her Sunday garments than most young damsels of her class, she had a
right--for was she not beautiful as any lady? And did not the eyes of
Esbern Lynge say so, when, week after week, he came up the hilly road,
and descended again to the little chapel, supporting the feeble mother's
slow steps, and watching his bet