Stephan’s letters were most satisfactory.  He liked the new life and the old Forester, and was sure Gretchen would admire the pretty houses, the large balcony, along the rails of which he was growing some of the beautiful dark carnations she was so fond of, and he knew she would rejoice to see the glowing mountain-peaks rising from the dark pine woods at sunset.

The wedding-day arrived at last, and in the course of the second evening,—­for the festivities lasted two days,—­some strangers staying in the village came up to see the dancing, which took place in a very large room in the inn.  Among them was the Baron Liszt, who, after dancing the last waltz with Gretchen, requested the visitors would remain a few minutes, as he had something to show them.

A box was then brought in by the hostess, dressed in her best costume and fur cap.  She placed it with much solemnity before the Baron, who lifted the lid, took out the beautiful zither that Stephan had made with such care, and handing it to the pretty, blushing Gretchen, he said he could offer her nothing better as a wedding gift than this specimen of her husband’s talent, which he hoped she would always keep and use as a token of his respect and admiration for Bavarian honesty and truth.  Then, shaking hands with them both, he took leave amidst loud acclamations and waving of hats; and so ended the wedding of Stephan and Gretchen.

TROUBLES IN HIGH LIFE.

By Mrs. J. G. Burnett.

[Illustration]

  Two miniature mothers at play on the floor
    Their wearisome cares were debating,
  How Dora and Arabelle, children no more,
  Were twice as much trouble as ever before,
  And the causes each had her own cares to deplore
    Were, really, well worth my relating.

  Said one little mother:  “You really don’t know
    What a burden my life is with Bella! 
  Her stravagant habits I hope she’ll outgrow. 
  She buys her kid gloves by the dozen, you know,
  Sits for cartes de visites every fortnight or so,
    And don’t do a thing that I tell her!”

  Those stylish young ladies (the dollies, you know)
    Had complexions soft, pearly and waxen,
  With arms, neck and forehead, as white as the snow,
  Golden hair sweeping down to the waist and below,
  Eyes blue as the sky, cheeks with youth’s ruddy glow,—­
    Of a beauty pure Grecian and Saxon.

  “Indeed!” said the other, “that’s sad to be sure;
    But, ah,” with a sigh, “no one guesses
  The cares and anxieties mothers endure. 
  For though Dora appears so sedate and demure,
  She spends all the money that I can secure
    On her cloaks and her bonnets and dresses.”

  Then followed such prattle of fashion and style
    I smiled as I listened and wondered,
  And I thought, had I tried to repeat it erewhile,
  How these fair little Israelites, without guile,
  Would mock at my lack of their knowledge, and smile
    At the way I had stumbled and blundered.