which, by little and little, is gathered with the hand, shall

When I remember all

The friends, so lately link'd together,

I've seen around me fall,

Like leaves in wintry weather;

I feel like one,

Who treads alone

Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed!
Thus, in the stilly night,

Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

THOMAS MOORE.

stilly quiet. - Ere Slumber's chain has bound me: before I have fallen asleep.-treads: walks.-garlands: strings of flowers or leaves, intended to be hung round an object for ornament, as a sign of festivity.

Stavoren.

Six centuries ago Stavoren was one of Holland's most flourishing ports. Vessels plied to all parts of the world from its quays. Its prosperity, as usual, stimulated the growth of luxury, and wealth jostled poverty in its streets and squares.

A spirit of vanity and of show took possession of its inhabitants, who tried to surpass one another in extravagance. Where before was stone, were now costly marbles; the plain but solid woodwork of former days was rejected

for carving and inlaid work, and iron and copper were replaced by precious metals.

Wealthiest of the wealthy was the Lady Richberta, the sole heiress of one of the most prosperous merchants of the place, who upon her father's death had assumed the direction of his business affairs.

Fortune never seemed tired of lavishing rewards upon her; her enterprises were invariably crowned with success, and her riches continually increased. A fleet. of her vessels traded with all parts of the world and realized for her enormous profits.

Humored and spoiled from her cradle, the whims of Richberta were limited only by her imagination. She used to offer her fellow-citizens the most splendid entertainments, not so much from any feeling of generosity as from the wish to amuse herself, and to astonish her guests by the splendors of her house and its furniture, and the daintiness and rarity of the food.

At one of these feasts, where there was little heartiness beneath the pomp and luxury, a stranger was presented to Richberta. He had previously caused her to be informed that he had journeyed from far-distant countries for the sole purpose of seeing and admiring the riches of Richberta, of which he had heard such marvelous accounts in this far-off home. He had seen, he said, many emperors and kings in all the brilliance

of their courts, but not one of these surpassed the splendor which surrounded her.

Won by these declarations, Richberta summoned the stranger to a seat near her.

He was a man of grave and comely, almost venerable, mien, but yet hardly old, and clad in the picturesque and flowing costume of the East. His presence and bearing were noble and dignified.

He approached Richberta expecting to be offered the bread and salt, which it was customary to present to visitors in his country as a symbol of welcome. But on those tables, groaning beneath the weight of the rarest and most exquisite fruits and viands on dishes and salvers of gold and silver, there was no bread. The simple food of the poor was wholly banished from this sumptuous. board.

The new guest took his place silently, and after having partaken of the banquet he related his travels by sea and land. He told of far-off peoples, of his own adventures, of his joys and sorrows, of the uncertainty of earthly goods, and the inconstancy of human happiness.

The guests lent attentive ears to the narrative of the mysterious stranger. Richberta, however, took but little interest in his conversation; she had expected him to enlarge upon the splendor of the entertainment, and