now, in heaven's name! what does it matter? He would perhaps, from the very circumstance of his having less fortune as a poet, be only the more practical man, and I confess that would not mortify me. And I shall wish both the poem and the appointment at the place where pepper grows if you are to become pale and nervous on its account! Promise me now next post-day to be reasonable, and not to look like the waning moon, else I promise you that I shall be downright angry, and will keep the whole post-bag to myself!"

To his children the father spoke thus: "Have you really neither genius nor spirit of invention enough to divert and occupy your mother on the unfortunate post-day? Henrik, it depends upon you whether she be calm or not; and if you do not convince her that, let your luck in the world be whatever it may, you can bear it like a man, I must tell you that you have not deserved all the tenderness which she has shewn you!"

Henrik coloured deeply, and the Judge continued, "And you, Gabriele! I shall never call you my clever girl again, if you do not make a riddle against the next post-day which shall so occupy your mother that she shall forget all the rest!"

The following post-day was an exceedingly merry one. Never before had more interesting topics of conversation been brought forward by Henrik; never before had the mother been so completely seduced into the discussions of the young people. At the

very moment when the post-hour arrived she was deeply busied in solving a riddle, which Henrik and Gabriele endeavoured to make only the more intricate by their fun and jokes, whilst they were pretending to assist her in the discovery.

The riddle ran as follows:

Raging war and tumult

Am I never nigh;

And from rain and tempest,
To far woods J fly.
In cold, worldly bosoms
My deep grave is made;
And from conflagration
Death has me affrayed.
No one e'er can find me

In the dungeon glooms;

I have no abiding,

Save where freedom blooms.

My morning sun ariseth,

Light o'er mind to fling;

O'er love's throbbing bosom
Rests my downy wing!
Like our Lord in heaven,

I am ever there;
And like him of children

Have I daily care.
What though I may sever

From thee now and then,

I forget thee never

I come back again!

In the morning's brightness,

Dear one, if thou miss me,

With the sunset's crimson

Come I back and kiss thee!

VOL. 11.

This riddle, which it must be confessed was by no means one of Gabriele's best, gave rise to a fund of amusement, and occasioned the maddest propositions on Henrik's part. The mother, however, did not allow herself to be misled; but exclaimed, whilst she laughingly endeavoured to overpower the voices of her joking children,

"The riddle is

What the riddle was, the reader may see by the title of our next chapter.

+

CHAPTER V.

HAPPINESS.

"HAPPINESS!" repeated the Judge, as he entered the room at the same moment, with letters and newspapers in his hand.

"I fancy you have been busying yourselves here with prophesyings," said he: "Gabriele, my child, you shall have your reward for it-read this aloud to your mother!" laying a newspaper before her.

Gabriele began to read,-but threw the paper hastily down, gave a spring for joy, clapped her hands and exclaimed,

"Henrik's poetry has won the highest prize!"

"And here, Henrik," said the father, "are letters -you are nominated to

The voice of the Judge was drowned in the general outbreak of joy. Henrik lay in the arms of his mother, surrounded by his sisters, who, amid all their jubilation, had tearful

eyes.

The Judge walked up and down the room with long strides; at length he paused before the happy group, and exclaimed,

66

"Nay, only see! let me also have a little bit! Elise

-my thanks to thee that thou hast given him to me—and thou boy, come here-I must tell thee—” but not one word could he tell him.

The father, speechless from inward emotion, embraced his son, and returned in the same manner the affectionate demonstrations of his daughters.

Many private letters from Stockholm contained flattering words and joyful congratulations to the young poet. All Henrik's friends seemed to accord in one song of triumph.

There was almost too much happiness for one time. During the first moments of this news the joy was calm and mingled with emotion; afterwards, however, it was lively, and shot forth like rockets in a thousand directions. Every thing was in motion to celebrate the day and its hero; and while the father of the family set about to mix a bowl-for he would that the whole house should drink Henrik's health-the others laid plans for a journey to Stockholm. The whole family must be witnesses of Henrik's receiving the great gold medal-they must be present on the day of his triumph. Eva recovered almost her entire liveliness as she described a similar festival which she had witnessed in the Swedish Academy.

Henrik talked a deal about Stockholm; he longed to be able to shew his mother and sisters the beautiful capital How they would be delighted with the gallery of mineralogy-how they would be charmed with the theatres! how they would see and hear