d world, which
suddenly became once more alive: its inhabitants, clad in antique
garments, walked past us, stared in astonishment, and seemed to say,
We too were happy and beloved, feted and praised, the blue sky arched
over us also, and we plucked violets and rejoiced in their fragrance
till the deep, heavy sleep came.

Wait--only wait:
Soon thou too will rest.

It was a cold, feeble hand I respectfully kissed at parting, and I
remained under its spell, lingering in the strange world conjured
up by Ottilie von Goethe, till we stood before Goethe's pretty
summer-house and the blue violets peeped at us from the turf. The
windows stood wide open, the mild breeze swept gently in, and the sun
also looked to see if everything was in order in "der alte Herr's"
rooms. Far away between the trees gleamed the white pillars of the
house, and the ground at our feet was covered with a blue carpet. It
is said that nowhere in North Germany are there so many violets as
in the vicinity of Weimar. And why? Because, as the people poetically
say, "der alte Herr," whenever he went to walk, always filled his
pockets with violet-seeds, and scattered them everywhere with lavish
hands.

ELISE POLKO.

LA BEFANA.

Putting out of the question the Piazza of St. Peter's with Bernini's
encircling colonnades, which is a special thing and unlike anything
else in the world, the Piazza Navona is the handsomest piazza in Rome.
It is situated in the thickest and busiest part of the city, far out
of the usual haunts of the foreign residents, and nearly in the centre
of that portion of the city which is enclosed between the Corso and
the great curving sweep of the Tiber. It is handsome, not only
from its great space and regular shape--a somewhat elongated double
cube--but from its three fountains richly ornamented with statuary
of no mean artistic excellence, and from the clean and convenient
pavement which, intended for foot-passengers only, occupies all the
space save a carriage-way close to the houses encircling it. This
large extent of pavement, well provided with benches, and protected
from the incursion of carriages, which make almost every other part of
Rome more or less unsafe for all save the most wide-awake passengers,
renders the Piazza Navona a playground specially adapted for
nurses and their charges, who may generally be seen occupying it in
considerable numbers. But on the occasion on which I wish to call the
reader's atte