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VOLUME I. | BY C. R. IIANLEITER. P © IE T P Y a “ Much yet remains unsung.” / RICH AND POOR. BY MISS LANDON. Few, save the poor, feel for the poor, The rich know not how hard It is to be of needful food And needful rest debarred. Their paths are paths of plenteousness ; They sleep on silk and down, And never think how heavily The weary head lies down. They know not of the scanty meal, With small pale faces round ; No fire upon the cold damp hearth, When snow is on the ground. They never by the window lean, And see the gay pass by, Then take their weary task again, Cut with a sadder eye. SIMMJT TAIL®, From the “ Magnolia.” THE PEASANT QUEEN. A SWEDISH CHRONICLE. Ch apter I. “ A glooming peace, this morning with it brings.” It was tin* 12th of July, lA6I, and the city of Stockholm presented a spectacle of unusual bustle and rejoicing. The inhabi tants were seen crowding the streets from the first, peep of dawn ; the bells pealed out in merry chime ; the cannon thundered, and the flourish of trumpets issued from the palace-gates with never-tiring echo. It was a day fraught with great interest to ev ery Swede, for on this particular morning, Eric XIV’ made his entry into this, the capi tal of his estates. Thirty years had elapsed, since the people had witnessed any such \ public demonstration of rejoicing; for, at I the accession of Gustavus Vasa, the treasu ry was so much exhausted by foreign wars, that royalty wisely put aside its claims, and took its ancestral seat, in quiet. But now, the immense treasure amased by the late king was opened to meet the ex penses of this new coronation ; the most skilful merchants and architects were called into requisition ; and, with a careless hand, young Eric expended a large amount of the money, which had been accumulating for many years. Nothing could exceed the variety of the amusements, which were this day afforded the populace. In one square were collected a menagerie, comprising foreign birds and animals, such as had never appeared before in Stockholm ; further on, an ingenious actor exhibited his puppet show, representing scenes from the drama of Faust—bis terrible death, his seizure by the devil, and even his hell-torments ; while at a little distance, astrologers were seen, explaining the mysteries of the constella tions, and foretelling events. About mid-day, a louder flourish of trum- : pets, and a tramp of men and horses was heard in the distance. “ The king is com ing !” was the cry from every mouth ; and the multitude swelled like a living sea, as it prest on to meet its new sovereign. The insigticies of royalty first appeared, carried by the respective dignitaries ; then came a long and glittering array of knights and ba rons, with their gorsreous banners waving to the breeze; then was the Duke John, the king’s brother, mounted on a superb horse, and clad in princely costume; and last of all, the King himself, attended by his two couticellors, Burraeus and Persson, follow ed by a throng of gentlemen, soldiers and valets. And well might the people proudly gaze on this youthful descendant of their beloved king, Gustavas Vasa. Scarce twenty-eight years of age, his figure was tall and grace ful as an Apollo ; his bright auburn hair fell in soft masses even to his shoulders; and his deep blue eyes beamed with piide, plea sure and affection, mingled with an habitual expression of melancholy, as he met the gaze of that assembled concourse. The symmetry of his shape was finely set off by a close dress of heavy brocade, forming strong contrast with his dark Spanish man- j tie, laden with diamonds, and his black bon net, surmounted by a superb ostrich plume. Ihc silence of the crowd was thrilling, as he appeared in the midst of his cortege; but after their first long gaze of admiration, a sudden explosion of delight burst from the crowd; the shouts echoed from street to street, till alarmed by this enthusiasm, his horse became restive, and the king was al most thrown directly in front of the Brunke burg palace. “ This spot promises to be a fatal one to me,” observed Eric, with a se rious smile. “It was here that Sweden’s heads bowed to the executioner’s axe,” re plied Count Sturc; and perhaps your steed smells blood.” What a change did these few words pro duce in the young king’s countenance ; his flushed brow became pale with superstitious alarm ; his ear, which had but lately drank in with delight the acclamations of the mul titude, grew suddenly deaf to the voice of applause; and abruptly entering the palace gate, he neglected to bestow those marks of recognition due the expectant populace — who, surprised aud disappointed by bis in- & jF.vmilg JLctesjjapct*: to HUcrattivc, Earfculturc, S&rrftfttifro, Etoiiczticn, jpcrctau amr Semc&tCc XutelHscucc, scc. | difference, returned in wondering conjec | ture to their respective homes. Ch apter 11. “ That old man Can take no root again ! he hath snaped ofif The ancient tendrils.” It was on the evening of this day, that Molts, one of the king’s guards, met on his homeward way a young friend, who wore the equalet of a sergeant. “Ah ! Max, is it you ?” he exclaimed, slapping him fami liarly on the shoulder; “1 am truly glad that we have met; for two such faith- I ful subjects, should not take their bottles of beer apart, on this glorious day. Come along with me ; my grandfather will be delighted to see you, and Catharine, methinks, will not meet you with a frown.” A blush of pleasure mantled the young officer’s face,as lie promptly accepted the invitation. In a few moments they reached the door of a humble dwelling, where the friends entered, and were cheerfully welcomed by an old man, the elder Mons, who, seated in his ac customed place, was diligently perusing his favorite volume, the Bible. Rembrant him self might have chosen this aged soldier for his study. His large and well-formed head was adorned with a few gray locks of a silken texture ; the expansive forehead was almost unwrinkled ; his eyes beamed bright ly from beneath the heavy brows, and his white and flowing heard hung even to his breast. Having served as a soldier under Gustavas Vasa, he received a yearly pen sion after that king’s death, and was now passing his remaining years in obscurity. His whole life had been, indeed, dedicated to that monarch ; since one half of it had been spent in fighting for him, and the other half seemed fully occupied in talking about him. No story ever past his lips, in which Gustavus did not conspicuously figure; and he was never weary of describing the wretch ed state of Sweden under the Danish yoke —its revolt, the massacre of its nobles, the king’s flight to Delecaria, his numberless i perils, and his final accession to the throne. ! As he proceeded, big tears would stream down his cheeks, his breast would heave convulsively, and he would half audibly murmur, “ Why is it that 1 have outlived my general ?” One tie still bound him to life ; it was the affection lie bore his beloved grand-daugh ter, the fair Catharine, to whom we have al ready referred. And truly, she was worthy the love he lavished upon her. To eyes, bine and lustrous as her country’s lakes, a mouth sweet as an opening rose-bud, and hair that seemed to imprison sunshine in their brown tresses —she united a disposi tion of such continual cheerfulness and vi vacity ; manners, timid yet so full of naivete, and a voice -of such musical cadence, that she might well be the delight of the old man, as well as of Maximilian, who so often dropped in, under the pretext of enjoying’ a social chat with the veteran. We may readily imagine this evening’s theme of conversation. The soldier’s face flushed with pleasure, as his grand-son re lated the events of the morning: the king’s i march from Rottebro to Stockholm ; his in gress into the city, and his reception by the populace ; but when he referred to the ac cident which had nearly taken place, through his horse’s misrule, the veteran sighed deep ly, and shook his head, as he observed that it prognosticated no good fortune. “ Nay ! father,” said the younger Mons, laughingly ; “ I am sorry that 1 mentioned what is really of no consequence, but which excites in you such alarm. Since our king’s death, you fancy that Sweden lias lost its good genius, and that naught but calamity must befall it.” “ Ah ! my son, how can I help fearing, when I see my young master surrounded by such evil councillors; when 1 hear of his being a skilful poet, musician and astro loger; and when, besides, f am told, that he is naturally of a weak, suspicious dispo sition ; liable to violent though short-lived bursts of passion, and strongly imbued with superstition.” The conversation was now interrupted Ly Catharine, who placed on the board some refreshments, along with three silver drink ing vessels, bearing an inscription in Ger man, which enforced on all drinkers the love | of God, and the practice of virtue. Max. cast a loving glance on the maiden, as she took her seat at a small table, and commenc ed arranging her fruits and flowers for the morrow’s sale ; for it was so that she earn ed an honest but humble livelihood. Olt seiving that her countenance became ovei shaded by the turn of conversation, he en deavored to change the topic ; but the young girl had that morning caught a glimpse of the handsome monarch ; her heart yearned towards him, in spite of his unfortunate dis positions, and she entered with such keen interest into their discussions respecting his future fate, that, hurt by her apparent indif ference towards himself, Max. rose after a brief visit, and bade them good night. Chapter 111. “ Every hour, He flashes into some gross criiuoor other, That sets us all at odds.” The fears of the elder Mons were but too well founded, for Eric speedily displayed many dangerous and vicious characteristics. Yet, although improvident and prodigal, sus picious and passionate, he oficn exhibited MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 29, 1842. traits of honor and virtue, which made his character a strange compound of opposite qualities. As his subjects were early desir- j ous that he should marry, he made proposals to Elizabeth of England, which were, how ever, refused ; an ambassador was then des patched to Mary, Queen of Scrtts, who met with the same ill luck ; the king then turned his eye, though with hopeless desire, to the Princess Rene, of Lorraine; till his last negotiation, a like offer to Catharine of Hesse, was entirely successful, and the fol lowing month was fixed for their nuptials. Twelve vessels were despatched to hear the bride to Sweden, but encountering the Dan ish fleet near Bornholm, they were attacked and dispersed ; and the commander, after reaching Lubeck, sent messengers to the Princess, informingher of this eontre temps, yet urging his master’s suit. Three weeks elapsed, when they returned—but without the bride; for the Landgrave, becoming suddenly alarmed by the disturbed state of Sweden, declined giving np his daughter for the present. Eric, whose fust hope had been fixed on Elizabeth, now despatched a letter by a se cret emissary, in which he ventured so far as to assure her, that lie had never seriously contemplated a marriage with the Princess of Hesse ; this letter was intercepted and opened by the Landgrave, who, filled with indignation, commanded Eric’s ambassador to quit his possessions, never to return. Such were the public acts of the young king, and his private ones were equally re prehensible. Unfriendly feelings had been long fostered between this monarch and liis brother John, which, although carefullycon cealed, only required a spark to enkindle. Eric, who delighted in the study of astrolo gy, read in the stars that his life was menac ed by a man with light hair; and at the j suggestions of his councillor, (lie designing j Persson, his suspicions rested on Prince John, who was immediately taken prisoner, I and conducted to Stockholm, along with his I young wife. Persson strongly urged his immediate j death, hoping by such means to rise higher |in office; but the king could not be won over to consent to such extreme measures, and he was therefore strictly confined in the castle of Grispbolm. His wife was offered her liberty, along with a luxurious home in the palace, but showing her marriage ring, with this motto, “nemo nisi mors” she would not even reply to Eric’s seeming indulgence, hut shared her husband’s prison. This flesh act of injustice naturally con tributed to make the king more unhappy than ever. His Suspicions were aroused by the least playful words among his courtiers; thoughts of treason were discovered in eve ry harmless act; and yet, scarcely did he yield to his ungovernable temper, before conscience won the mastery, and with self j promises of reformation, he would exclaim. I “ I have sinned again ! alas ! I have sinned again !” j Like the mysterious huntsman so often ; introduced into German ballads, lie seemed j to belong both to an angel of light and a | demon of darkness. Ch apter IV. “I have lliec—thou art mine, Wiih life to keep, and but with life resign.” Tin •ee years had elapsed, since Eric’s tri - umphal entree into Stockholm, and the most indifferent observer must have been struck with the change which had taken place in his appearance during that time. His face was pale to sickliness; his brow clouded with perpetual gloom ; even in his happier moments, his smile was sad and unfrequent; needless suspicions had destroyed the good faith of his subjects; and instead of the crowds who once welcomed his approach, the citizens were now seen to withdraw in to their houses as lie passed, and his coitage often moved through still and deserted streets. As he was one evening taking his accus tomed ride along the city-bridge, he observ ed an unusual throng, collected near his pal ace gate. “ What is the meaning of yond er crowd ?’’ he anxiously inquired; “can it he a fresh revolt I” The officer whom he addressed, put spurs to his horse, and quickly returned with the information, that a young female with the name of Catharine Mons, and who was the peasant-belle of the city, had been knocked down by a carriage, and was now lying apparently dead. Eric’s first impulses were always those of benevolence, and rushing on in advance of his guard, he reached the spot at the mo ment when they were arranging a litter, on which to convey the stunned hut still living maiden to her home. The crowd separated at his approach, and regardless of his digni ty, the king sprang from the saddle, and pushing aside the boor who supported Cath arine, he took her in his arms, rested her fair head on his broidered shoulder, bathed her white temples with water; and when consciousness at length returned, ami her blue eyes opened in languid tenderness on the king’s face, Eric could hardly refrain from expressing his pity, joy and admiration. Piecing her gently on the litter, he com manded that she should be carried into the palace, where a surgeon would be in attend- 1 ance; and hurrying on, lie gave orders that | a chamber should be thrown open for her I reception. j How wearisome was the perusal of the military .bulletins, which were on this eVen- I ing presented for the king’s inspection; and with what eagerness did he ascend to his observatory, once more to read his fate in j the stars. Burraeus, his tutor in astrology, was al ready there, awaiting him ; for the wily courtier had observed the interest with which the king regarded the young peasant, and had already plotted a scheme against his peace. The door had hardly closed on them, than turning from the window, he ex claimed, “ Ah ! sire, what is this that I seel Anew star has risen along with the one that rules your destiny. Though small in magnitude, it is perfectly diseernsble ; and so near your own, that your rays seem to lend brightness to its humility. See ! yon der it lies!” and as he spoke, he pointed to the constellation, where this minor light had shone before, although probably unnoticed. “Is it possible 1 Can it he so 1” cried Eric, vvitli a countenance radiant with joy; “ the fates have then united our destinies ;” he half-audibly added, and gazed with pro longed transport on the starry concave.— Then, as if fearing he had said too much, he hade Burraeus a hurried farewell, and retir ing to his chamber, was soon lost in a deli cious reverie. On the following morning, Eric made ear ly inquiries after Catharine, and learned that she had quite recovered from the con tusion, which might have proved so fatal, and that she was now desirous of returning to bet friends, who, anxious, waited her ap pearance at the palace gate. “ Leave her to me ! I will myself con verse with her,” exclaimed the king, as, waving the messenger aside, he hurried to the apartment, where Catharine was now waiting his summons to depart. We will not enter fully into the conversa tion which |iasscd between the imprudent monarch, and the timid yet graceful maiden. In vain did she bring forward each argu ment to convince him of the propriety of relinquishing her to her anxious relatives: with tears of affectionate solicitude, she des cribed the condition of her need grand-fath er, now that he was separated from her, who wasthe comfort of hisexistenee ; with blush ing earnestness, she revealed the important assistance which her industry gave to the sustenance of her family; and when all failed, she meekly clasped her hands on her bosom, and stood waiting the monarch’s decision. “I know that it is but natural that you should desire to return to your friends,” ob served Eric mildly; “ but listen to me, and do not, in your heart, accuse me of treache ry, until you hear me totheend. No doubt, you are aware that I am superstitious ; for the people are generally informed on the weaknesses of their sovereign. Yesterday, . when I saw you lying near my palace-gate, something whispered me, that destiny re quired me to take an uncommon interest in your fate; I knew you but as a child of my father’s faithful soldier, but beneath this humble garb I recognised graces, which fit ted you for the abode of a king. It seem ed that fortune had made a mistake, when it confined you to a cottage, instead of giving you the range of a palace ; and I immedi ately resolved to repair its unjust penalty. Let me then enjoy the happiness of raising one humble flower from its obscurity ; if you consent, I will establish you within these walls—you shall receive all the ad vantages of education which my sister en joys ; and no one shall disturb your tran quility, for 1 will he your protector, and if yon allow it, your friend.” The agitated Catharine could not give utterance to the feelings that were eager to break from her parted lips ; throwing her self at Eric’s feet, she raised her streaming blue eyes to his face, as she half articulated, “My grandfather! my brother! what will become of them ?” “ Have no fears respecting them,” repli ed Eric hurriedly; “accept what I now propose, and I will not fail to give them ev ery assistance,” and before the timid girl could rise from her kneeling posture, the young monarch smiled kindly on her, and said farewell. Chapter V. “ Thou nrt most rich being poor ; Thee and thy virtues, here I seize upon.” On this very day, the Secretary of State received orders to double the pay of Cor poral Mons, a benefit which won ready ac knowledgement from that officer. A home in one of the state castles was also ofteied Catharine’s grandfather; but a violent tor rent of indignation streamed from his lips, as he declared that not for life itself would he accept any aid from the hands that had seized on his beloved child, and after a loud hurst of passion, he concluded by invoking heaven’s curses on the being who had thus trifled with his peace of mind. Catharine knew nothing of the old man’s distress, for she had been informed through a special messenger, that he was calm and apparently satisfied with the change; know ing that she would thus enjoy those advan tages of education, for which she had long pitied. Giving only a few hours to admira tion of self, asshe exchanged her coaise dress of a velvet robe, she entered the apartments for the Princess, who had kindly promised to direct her education ; and nothing could exceed the industry with which she soon prosecuted her fascinating studies. The king often visited her apartment, where these lessons were received. As he was an excellent musician, he especially delighted in marking the improvement of his protege in that branch, and when she sung with touching plaintiyeness some love-dittv, or ebaunted the lays of her own fair coun try, they fell on liis ear like celestial music, and his heart thrilled with joy and agitation. Yet no word of love ever passed from Eric’s lips, though lie felt his passion hour ly increasing. It was pleasure enough to watch the warm blush that mantled Catha rine’s check, with liis approaching footsteps; or to catch the glance of her modest eye, as she caught the encouraging words and smiles he freely lavished upon her. Ati occasion soon presented itself for more open demonstrations of affection, and Eric was not backward in seizing on the opportunity. It was one evening, when the Princess and Catharine, attended by the king, were taking their usual walk along the banks of Lake Maelar. As they trod the flowery pathway, where the branches of the lurch met overhead, while all was so still that no one leaf moved on the foliage, and the northern nightingale breathed its love song to the night without fear of molesta tion—Catharine’s spirit rose with the scene; she recalled with artless earnestness the days of her girlhood, when she had sat down to rest beneath these very trees, after con cluding her flower sale; and although a shade of melancholy might he observed in her face, as she fondly dwelt on her rela tives, vviio, strange as it appeared to her, she was not allowed to visit, she soon shook off’ her sadness, so as not to appear ungrate ful to her benefactor. As the stars came out, one by one, In the fluid depths of ether, Eric gently drew Catharine to his side, and for some time they contemplated the scene in silence.— “ Catharine, the king, first breaking this long pause, “ do you know that in yon der stars I have read your fate, as well as mine own ?” The maiden looked up into his face with smiling credulity, but made no inquiry. “ There arc many,” continued Eric, “ who ridicule the study of astrology; but nothing appears more reasonable, to my mind, than its truth. Methinks it is far bet ter to trust to yonder bright intelligences, than to the predictions of men, ignorant like ourselves. Would you believe it, maiden, on the first evening of our meeting, I was induced to visit my observatory; and in yonder blue space, I discovered a star near my own natal one, which bore to me the semblance of yourself. Something then. whispered that y'uir love might he won ; yet although I am king of this wide realm, T feared until now to ask the heart of one of its lowliest maidens : but, Catharine, I can delay no longer ; tamper not with tny feel ings, but tell me, do the stars speak falsely, and will you reject the love in which so ma ny would exult ?” The terrifiedjnaiden fell at the king’s feet, and gave vent to a passionate hurst of grief, as she besought him not to think of raising her from the station in which she was born. She revealed to him the yearnings with which she still looked for a return to her former home ; she recalled his first promise of being her protector, and, “ oh 1” she ex claimed, “urge me not to a measure, which can bring happiness to neither of us. As the ruler of this kingdom, it is not fitting that you should wed the daughter of a poor soldier; your subjects expect better things from you ; and what would be their anger, should they learn of your misjudged inten tions.” “ You mistake, Catharine,” replied the king, hurriedly; “ such an union, if private, would conduce greatly to the happiness of my people. Before 1 felt the influence of your presence, 1 yielded to thoso sudden bursts of passion, whose results always drove me to despair ; happiness was known to me only by name; and 1 was often tempted to throw away the life, which had become bur densome ; but a merciful Providence sent me, in you, the harp that has subdued all those evil dispositions ; a ray of light has broken into the darkness of my soul, and if deprived of your love, 1 feel that 1 must yield with tenfold strength to temptation, and who knows to what sad fate my mad ness may lead me.” With many such prayers and arguments, the king urged his suit; until, after long pe.rsuation, the yielding maiden allowed her heart to decide against her judgment, and consented to an immediate hut secret union. Chapter VI. “From diet I will not Mile What thoughts, in my unquiet breast, are risen.” Some months elapsed after the above mentioned event, and although Catharine still received from the king the most sub stantial tokens of affection, yet there were moments when she yielded to deep melan choly, ns she reflected on the probable sor rows of her grandfather, and her apparent desertion; for the king was so jealous of her love towards her relatives, as to forbid her the shortest interview, although she was weekly infurmed of the old man’s continued health. As she was one morning sitting in listless idleness, at the window of ati apartment overlooking the lake, she was startled by the notes of a song, sung by a familiar voice. On raising the curtain, she ohsei veil a small skiff lying iu the shadow of the palace, wherein sat one, who was muffled in a fisherman’s cloak, but whom she immediate ly recognised as her friend, Maximilian. For a inomeut, she was almost afraid to | NUMBER 31. W. T. THOMPSON, EDITOR. address him ; and was actually about to re tire from tha casement, when the figure ex tended liis hand, as if pleadingly, and mur mured her name in a soft voice. “ For God’s sake! what do you here?” exclaimed the terrified Catharine; who was well assured of the watchfulness of the king’s guard ; “ are you not aware that yon are liable to detection every moment ?” “ I know it,” answered Max., sadly; “but I leave Stockholm to-morrow, and I could uot depart without seeing you once more.” “ And where areyou going ?” asked Cath erine. “ I go with your brother to join the army, which is about marching against the Danes; and who knows, Catherine, but that we may both fall in battle, and never meet again.— But why do I speak of myself, when I have come to repeat to you a message from ” “ From my deargrandfatber. Ah ! Max., tell me all about him,” exclaimed Catherine. “ They say that he is calm and contented ih his present lonely state; but sometimes my heart reproves me. and I fancy that it may not he so.” “ Now curses on the foul lips that speak such falsehood,” exclaimed Max., striking his oar on the water in his indignation.— “ From the morning of your disappearance, the old man’s r.pirits failed him entirely; his memory became disturbed; and when I stept in to comfort him, as I often did, his first question would be ‘Have you seen her ; Max. ? Have you yet discovered the dear child V and when 1 would reply in the ne gative, lie would fall bock in his chair, and sink into the reverie which lasted the entire day.” “ Oh ! that the king would but allow me to see him,” cried Catherine, in a voice brok en with sobs ; “ stay, Max., if you ever lov ed me, stay hut for a moment, and I will plead with him to allow me hut one inter view ;” and she was about to spring from the window, for the immediate execution of her plan. “ Catherine,” said the young soldier, in sympathising tones, “ there is no need for such a request; you must not think of go ing home any more.” “Nay! can it be that lie refuses to see me ? Would he drive his penitent child with curses from his side? Ah ! no,it is not so; my heart tells me that his first word would he a blessing.” “ Ah! Catherine, the good old soldier will never again bless you in this world,” sighed Max., softly. “ All ! speak quickly, he is ill; perhaps lie is dying,” sobbed his alarmed compan ion. “He is dead,” replied Max., in accents of grief and compassion. “ Dead ! dead ! then I was liis murderer. I have killed him !” shrieked the wretched girl, as, wringing her hands convulsively, she sank fainting ou the floor. Chapiter VII. “ Why, this is magic, and it breaks liis bonds, It gives him freedom.” No one can imagine the bitter feelings, with which Catherine reviewed all the acts of deceit and prevarication, which had been employed against her by the minions of her husband ; and, as she had every reason to believe, at his own suggestions. Although silent on the subject of her injuries, Eric could not but observe the alteration of her manners towards himself; thceagerness with which she avoided all conversation, and the gloom that hung over her usually cheerful spirits. Instead of erdeavoring to soothe her wounded sensibility, he, too, seemed desirous of shunning her companionship; and, separated from her good influences,’ Persson and Burraeus were again received into favor. Anxious to seize on the opportunity which the king’s ill-nature presented, these councillors brought forth accusatious against several of the nobility, and especially against Store, one of the richest and most devoted subjects of the crown. Sturc was imme diately seized, aud confined in the prison of Upsal; the Diet was convoked to sit in judgment; and although the proofs against Idm were by no means conclusive, yet, fear ing the anger of the king, and the treache ry of his chief councillors, they yielded to their timidity, and sentenced him to death. Eric, however, shrank from the execu tion of the sentence, and he had even deter mined to ask forgiveness of the aged Count for having imprisoned him, when Persson, wlio trembled for the consequences of such a meeting, contrived just then to raise fresh suspicions against him ; and anew plot was hinted at, in which he was engaged. Aroused by new fury, Eric gave orders for the immediate execution of the sentence: hut scarcely was the deed done, when he was attacked by one of those paroxysms of remorse, which always deprived him of his reason. Unseen by his attendants, he rush ed front the palace, and prest to the thick woods surrounding Stockholm, as if there to hide himself fiom observation. But conscience would not be quieted; at every step his despair redoubled ; he called him self the murderer of his father’s faithful friend ; and tearing off his royal garments, he demanded a peasant’s garb, as if hoping by this outward change to alter bis inner feelings. The cry of his victim seemed T ever ringing in his ear; every tree, to bis excited imagination, became a spectre; and every breeze a death-knell. After some hours of anxious search, tbo