worthiness, and the other half from the pressing necessity of others' concerns, which hurries me away. In a word, kind sir, will you undertake to deliver this letter into Duchess Anne's fair hands, secretly and quickly?"

"Why, for the slight service of passing on a letter, so complaisant and courteous as this seems to be," resumed the porter, watching keenly the movements of the crone, whose fingers leisurely undid the fastening of her money-bag, "for such a good turn, and all in the way of mine office, I would not willingly stand on punctilios of mere place. I think I might contrive to send the billet through the duchess's varlet yonder, to her highness's tirewoman, and so by toilette-time to-morrow into her own fair hand, or at least so place it that it should fall under her own bright eye."

"Kind thanks for your good offices," replied the old woman, coldly, while she replaced the purse in her girdle. "No, Master Porter, no. Such snail's-pace, round-about proceedings are

not of fitting gait for the rapid flow of hot, and youthful, and noble blood. And did such means suit the purpose of the princely I—would say the lordly, or needs let it be simply the well-born writer, for I would not willingly betray his noble confidence-the letter might have been delivered at the door of your lodge, by secretary or serving-man, and sent up through the beaten road of common correspondence. No, Master Porter, no! and good day to you."

"Nay, nay, go not away in pique or unkindness, good dame," said the porter, alarmed at the threatened loss of his vails, and laying a gentle hand on his companion's cloak, with a wheedling look and a forced chuckle, as he added, "by the bones of the eleven thousand! I wish to do the good turn you ask me. A prince did you not say, or at least a noble of note-eh? and

"Well then, at once, and without words," said his companion briskly, at the same time

placing a small gold piece in his palm, which surely had itched intensely during the previous colloquy, "at once and for all, will you or will you not put this letter into the hands of the duchess, now, at the instant ?"

"Reckon on me, as soon as ever the procession passes," whispered the porter, putting the letter between his doublet and pourpoint, and closing his fingers on the piece of gold.

"Good fellow, you know not the danger of delay, or you would not prose and chatter in this guise. There is another ducat to quicken your senses-now, on the instant, give the letter with your own hands, and remember! a keen eye is watching you. Here they comefarewell! we shall meet again."

As these words were rapidly uttered, and while the speaker darted away in the crowd, with the activity of boyhood, and (as Karl Kreutzer, the conscientious porter, piously swore) with the suddenly-acquired height of well-grown manhood, he felt his breath to come

and go; and his eyes swam, and his knees shook, for he thought that voice, air, and gesture were all supernaturally awful. A pang seemed shot through his heart, from the mere vicinage of the letter. To have relieved himself, he would have thrown it into the street, and the money along with it, had not a sudden throb of fear held one hand firm on the mysterious paper, and an occult instinct of avarice thrust the other into the deep, wide pocket of his crimson plush pluderhosen.

While he stood bewildered and uncertain, the loud crash of music and the chant of voices told him the procession was near at hand. The rush of people in all directions warned him of it in another sense. And the boisterous entreaties for admission into the lodge, from several persons who pushed towards the portal, were the completing proofs that he had no time to lose. "Do, good Master Karl ?"

"Kind Karl, one place in the postern window!"

i

"Just enough room for this child, worthy Master Kreutzer !"

""Tis only me, Karl, your friend Caspar Schott, don't you know me?"

"Good Karl Kreutzer"—" Gentle Karl""Sweet Master Karl !"

These and a dozen still more coaxing blandishments were forcibly showered upon the agitated functionary; but every epithet in honour of his tenderness met a practical refutation, in the sturdy blows dealt round by his baton of office, and the maledictions which he profusely scattered among the invaders.

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May the curse of the three kings light on and blight ye all, scurvy rabble that ye are ! Stand back, I say! Out on ye, knaves, out on ye! Potz tausend! Begone I say—no man enters here. Thunder and lightning! aback, aback, I say!"

And having at length succeeded in stemming the living torrent, Karl Kreutzer forcibly closed the pondrous gates, and for perfect se