hirty Years' War was finally brought to a termination by the
treaty of peace of Westphalia, which was concluded at Nuremberg in 1560,
the authorities of that place ordered in commemoration public rejoicings
of various kinds--banquets, balls, fire-works, etc. But among all these
public diversions, none was more distinguished for singularity and
originality, and perhaps childish simplicity, than the procession of
lads and boys on sticks or hobby-horses. Thus mounted, they rode,
regularly divided into companies, through the streets, and halted before
the hotel of the Red Horse, where was staying the Imperial Commissioner,
Duc D'Amali.

The Duke was so pleased with the novel cavalcade that he requested a
repetition of the same procession at an early day of the following week,
which they performed in much larger numbers. On arriving before his
hotel, the Duke distributed amongst them small square silver medals
which he had in the interval caused to be struck. The coin represented
on the obverse a boy on a hobby-horse with whip in hand, and the year
1560 was inscribed in the centre, while the reverse represented the
double eagle and armorial bearings of Austria, with the inscription,
"Vivat Ferdinandus III., Rom. Imp. vivat!"

THE LITTLE SWISS MAN.

There was once a little Swiss man who had a mind and will of his own. He
was one inch high, and carved out of wood by the busy people of Brienz,
in the long cold winter season. Perhaps the bit of wood out of which he
was cut was unusually hard, and even knotted; but certainly he had more
character than his companions, the pretty birds perched on boxes, the
deer and chamois supporting vases, and all the trinkets made in that
town, where the wooden houses with projecting roofs, and balconies
filled with flowers, on the border of Lake Brienz, are precisely like
the tiny toy mansions in shop windows.

When he was finished, the little Swiss man was very proud of himself. He
wore gaiters, a jacket, a broad straw hat--all in wood--and carried a
creel on his back, as if just about to climb a mountain, laden with
butter, cheese, or wine.

The contents of the workshop were scattered like a handful of leaves in
the wind. The chamois were sent to Paris and London, the little birds on
the boxes journeyed as far as Russia and America, with the luggage of
travellers.

"I am sure to be much admired wherever I go," said the little Swiss man,
with a smile, which was none the less con