No. 40]

KIBITZ,

A GERMAN TALE.

There was once a poor peasant named Kibitz, who, though but little favored by fortune, enjoyed nevertheless more contentment and satisfaction than many of his more prosperous neighbours; his chief maxim was to make the best that he could of every thing; and, if affairs proceeded untowardly, to hope that they might take a turn for the better, without vexing himself unnecessarily. One day, as he was ploughing his little field with his two oxen, he thought that he heard some one call him, and looking round perceived that it was a bird which repeated his name several times; it being the kibitz or pewit, whose cry ressembles the sound of The simple clown, conceiving that the bird was mocking him, felt provoked, spite of his usual good-nature, and took up a heavy stone to fling at it: the bird, however, flew away, very leisurely, while the stone falling, unluckily, upon one of his oxen, killed it on the spot. This was a terrible misfortune for Kibitz; but there was no means of restoring the dead animal to life; so thinking that its yoke-fellow would be but of little service by itself, he, without more ado, killed the other also; then flaying them both, carried the hides to a tanner, in order to make thereby some little trifle in return for the heavy loss he had sustained.

its own name.

When he arrived at the tanner's, finding that no one seemed very anxious to answer his knocking, he peeped in through a casement, and perceived that the good man's wife was cramming a gallant into a chest, in order to conceal him from her unwelcome visitor. Master Kibitz was not altogether sodispleased at this scene as the tanner himself would have been, for he shrewdly thought that he might turn it to his own advantage. In a little while the dame opened the door, and hearing his errand, informed him that her husband was absent, and that she could not transact the business on which he was come. Kibitz said that she need not refuse him, for though she had no money, yet he would be contented with that old lumber chest which stood in one corner, and it would be an excellent bargain for her. To this proposal the dame demurred, as may well be supposed: Kibitz insisted upon having it, saying, that it was the best bargain she could possibly make, while she as resolutely refused to comply; for it is in vain to offer the most advantageous bargains in the world, if people are so blind to their own interests as to refuse them, In short, they quarrelled so loud and so long about the matter, that the tanner himself returned, in the midst of the affray, and so settled the dispute by insisting upon his wife's complying with their customer's whim, and letting him have the old worm-eaten chest; heartily glad to obtain the two hides so cheaply, and at the same time considering Kibitz to be a very great blockhead. The latter, therefore, obtained his wish, in spite of the good wife's exclamations and opposition, and hoisting his prize into

[VOL. 4.

a cart which he had brought with him, drove off towards his home. He had not proceeded far, however, before the inhabitant of the chest, who conceived himself not to be included in the purchase, took care to let him know that he was carrying away more than he had any right to, and to entreat, therefore, that he would let him out. This, however, was a proposal to which Kibitz was but little disposed to accede: he set about proving formally, according to the best logic he was master of, that in purchasing the chest, he had also purchased him. The gallant finding himself driven to extremity, and thinking it hopeless, immured as he was, and with very little breath to waste upon words, to think of refuting an adversary who could give his lungs full play, fairly surrendered at discretion, and was permitted to march out, on giving up all his valuables and money. As it so happened, the latter was a considerable sum, sufficient to purchase several pair of oxen, instead of those which the countryman had lost.

Kibitz now returned home quite rich; and his neighbours being informed of the excellent bargain he had made by his hides, killed their oxen also, and took their skins to the same tanner: but instead of obtaining as much as they expected, they were informed that Kibitz had gotten only an old chest, hardly worth a single hide. Hereupon supposing that they had been maliciously imposed upon by him, in order that they might be induced to kill their cattle, they determined upon putting so envious a fellow to death. Fortunately our good Kibitz received some information of their deseigns for a long time he was puzzled in contriving some stratagem whereby to defeat their murderous intent; and, at length conceiving that his poor wife would be quite inconsolable at being left a widow, he generously resolved to spare her this exceeding affliction. He told her, therefore, that he had a mind, by way of frolic, to let her wear the breeches for once in her life; and accordingly ordered her to dress in his clothes, and go and work in the garden. Like an obedient spouse, accustomed to humour all her lord's whims, however extravagant they might be, the poor woman complied. The wicked neighbours shortly after came, and finding her digging in the garden, they fell upon her and put her to death; then immediately fled, satisfied that they had revenged themselves on Kibitz.

Our friend Kibitz, in the mean while, was too overjoyed at the singular succes of his stratagem, to have much time to bewail his wife. On the contrary, he thought that she might even yet prove of some service to him; he therefore took her, and having dressed her in her ordinary attire, put a basket of flowers in her hand, ant seated her by the road side as if she were offering nosegays for sale. Presently a stately equipage passed by, and the lady who was in the carriage, being smitten with the beauty of the flowers, ordered one of her lackeys to inquire the price. This he did several times, but receiving no answer, and therefore supposing

that she was asleep, he shook her somewhat rudely in order to wake her. Instantly she fell down into a deep ditch, Kibitz having taken care to place her in a ticklish situation; and he, being on the watch, now rushed out upon the fellow, exclaiming that he had killed his wife, and protesting that he would accuse all of them of murder. The lady alarmed at the accident, and the unpleasant circumstances in which she might be involved, offered, by way of pacifying him, to give all the money she had about her, and also a fine horse, upon which a groom was mounted. Kibitz protested that he had lost the best wife in the world, yet he was far from bearing malice, seeing that the lady was heartily sorry for what had happened, and would therefore comply with her request, out of pure good nature. So filling his pockets, and mounting on his steed, Kibitz set off home, well pleased with his own prudence and ingenuity.

As he passed through the village, every one looked out to see who it should be was mounted on so fine a horse; but how great was their astonishment at perceiving that it was Kibitz, whom they thought they had fairly killed! But though at first somewhat alarmed, conceiving it to be his spirit, on finding that it was really himself, they determined to get rid of him at all events; and in order to do so the more effectually, seized hold of him, and shut him up in a large cask, in which they resolved to throw him into the sea. All now seemed to be over with poor Kibitz: his good fortune appeared quite at an end: chance and good luck, however, often effects escapes that prudence cannot contrive. The stars had decreed that Kibitz should be prosperous.

It so chanced that in their way to the sea they passed by an alehouse, and considering that Kibitz could hardly run away while imprisoned in the cask, they left it it standing in the road, while they went in to refresh themselves with a draught. No sooner did Kibitz find himself alone than he began to consider how he might best avail of those few precious moments, in order to regain his freedom. At almost the very same instant he heard a flock of sheep pass by; upon which he began to cry out, "I will not be chosen burgomaster. I am determined not to be a burgomaster." The shepherd, astonished at his exclamation, went up to the cask and questioned him as to the cause of his being there, "Friend," replied Kibitz, "according to an ancient and singular custom of our town, whoever, is chosen burgomaster is borne in procession by the inhabitants of our town, in this cask. I am appointed to this honour; but am by no means ambitious of it." "How!" exclaimed the shepherd with astonishment, "are you in earnest, when you say that you do not wish for the honour? I

would then that it were some other person's good luck to be chosen burgomaster." "Well, then, my honest fellow, do but let me out of this cask, and take my place as quickly as you please." This was no sooner said than done: and Kibitz being extricated himself, enclosed the ambitious clown in his new shell, in which he was to be hatched into a burgomaster; then thinking that the poor sheep would be at a loss for want of a master, or if left there might fall into worse hands than is own, he determined at once to drive them home.

On returning from the tavern, the boors began to roll the cask on again, in spite of the cries of the unfortunate shepherd; and, at length, fairly plunged in into the water.

Satisfied that they had now got for ever rid of Kibitz,

they were returning very leisurely to the village, but how extreme was their surprise on suddenly meeting him, not only quite safe and sound, but driving a fine flock of sheep!

"Is it possible, Kibitz, that it is you?" exclaimed they altogether, concealing their vexation as well as they could. I

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Aye, even so my kind and worthy neighbours. perceive your astonishment; you are doubtless much surprised to see these sheep, but I will explain the whole business. You noticed the white foaming spray when you plunged me into the water? Now you must understand that there is a little enchantment in the case, for-thanks to the violence with which you soused me in, the cask broke, and on my catching at the foam, it turned to sheep, and very fine sheep they are—many thanks, therefore, to you; and to prove to you my gratitude, I would advise you, one and all, to enrich yourselves in the same manner."

No sooner had they heard this, than each determined forthwith to make the experiment, after having before them such a convincing proof of its success. Away, therefore, they scampered back to the water; the foremost jumped in at once, the others directly after him; but although they made foam and froth enough with their plunging about, no sheep appeared; on the contrary they buffeted about in the water at such a rate that they were all drowned. Thus did Kibitz safely rid himself of all his envious neighbours at once, and thereby render himself master of the whole village.

WHAT WAS OUR PARTING?

What was our parting?— —one wild kiss,
How wild I may not say,
One long and breathless clasp, and then
As life were past away.

We parted, I to weep o'er all

My young heart's great excess
Of passion, you to dream your love
Into forgetfulness.

What has our absence been? a long
And dreary while to me;
And must I feel-I dare not ask-
What it has been to thee?

How shall we meet on either side,
With heart so light as thine?
On yours it may be fond again,
It will be cold on mine!

L. E. L.

A STORY OF THE OLD TIME IN ITALY.

I AM the daughter of noble parents, whom I will not name, for they should rest undisgraced in their tombs, who left me sole heir of a large estate in the most fertile fields of Italy. I had fair and stately halls, vassals for service in court or field, ladies for attendance, and every thing needful or unneedful with which human pride can be pampered, and honour or humour desire or deserve. Mistress of these enviable possessions, I had many princely suitors, who met with such honourable entertainment as their many pleasant qualities merited. But there was one never seen among those flattering suitors, who was a thriving wooer with my heart, though he had never worshipped

at its shrine; and might have had that woman's toy as a gift which he was either too humble or too proud to ask.

This was the noble gentleman called Guido de Medicis, the owner of a poor estate, touching upon the wider skirts of mine. He was of an ancient race of poets, painters, sculptors, legislators, and members of all the intellect of Italy-that proud land, where the hand of humble genius is of more nobility than the entire body of merely honourable birth. But he of whom I write is now cold in a grave only vaster than his grand capacity, the earth-embracing sea; and could these miserable aud shameful tears, which fall at the recollection of the wrong which I have done him, outwater that sea, they would not enough mourn him who is the drowned hope and pride of my dear father-land: vainly, therefore, do I weep a sin which tears may never wash away, nor my life or death atone for to Heaven and my country.

I have said that though poor, he had that nobility which is more noble than rank-independence; but though seemingly proud, he was really humble: his humility shrank only from the proffered hands and the open palaces of princes, not because he was unworthy of them, but because he would not accept the uncertain honours of the present, when he might enjoy unconditional honours in the future. I bade him to my vanities and sating pleasures; but, with a humbleness which was more gratifying to me than the proudest acknowledgments of more princely men, he would ever refuse, and this with so winning a grace, that I was happier to be refused of him than accepted of the highest of Italy. His severe studies, and his patriotic endeavours for the welfare of his country, were the first wishes of his noble nature: these were excuses which I, who desired his future glory, could not be adder-deaf unto ; and I was, therefore, more pleased at his absence from the vain parade of pride and the worthless revel of pleasure, than at his presence, if it must have been bought with precious hours, which are few and numbered here, that we may use them only as purchasers of immortality hereafter. But, though absent from my court, he was ever present to my mind, where, whichever way looked, in hall or bower, at the banquet or in the dance, whatever I saw that was noble or graceful, seemed only like so many faint resemblances and dim recognitions of him.

I

It

This admiration could not long exist without other pulses stirring in my heart. Jealousy, and doubt, and fears of what might happen as impediments between me and him racked me with painful anticipations. was necessary to my happiness that I should draw him nearer, and ensure him mine; but how was this to be brought about with no loss of modesty, and that selfrespect which even virtue, in her purest intentions, may not leave to the mercy of calumny, and the accidents of chance? I could not, from a maidenly shame, confess that I loved him: I deemed that the difference between our fortunes alone separated us; and resolved, if it might be done, to remove his poverty; and went about it with that delicacy which only a heart that loves can devise. He was already eminent throughout Italy for his sculpture, to engage him to adorn my palace with the creations of his chisel would place him more frequently befor my eyes, and, by enriching him, make his fortune more equal to my own. I resolved, there

He

fore, to place a large sum in his hands, to purchase such works as his genius had already created to be immortal, and all that it might for some time create. Sending a careful messenger before, announcing that I set out with a small retinue of noble friends to his little villa. met me at the door; and, with the grace of genius, surrendered the heirs of his fame to my wish with as much modest indifference to their value, as if they had been but the toys of an idle taste. But for the gold and jewels which I had sent him, rather as presents than a consideration for his productions, which no price could purchase, he would have none of them: his fortune, he insisted, was enough for all his wants; and it was more than enough for him if his poor works were thought worthy of the honour I intended them. Stil I pressed these presents on him, and still he refused; when, finding that he would not by my hands be lifted level with myself in riches, I resolved at least to make myself as poor as him; and determined on founding a school for the arts in Florence, and on endowing it with more than the sum he had so resolutely yet modestly refused. I made my intention public, and invited the artists of Italy to the work, not doubting, meanwhile, that this poor munificence would find favour in his eyes. He praised my devotion to the true glory of his country, and for a time I was hopeful of success. But this pleasant dream was too soon dissipated, and, like a vapour before the sun, it vanished.

From some inquiries which I had made among his domestics, I learnt that his heart (which I had thought possible to be mine) was irrecoverably given to the fair Bianca, daughter of Baptista Buonaventi, an old merchant of Florence; and that, in a few days, he was to set out for Syracuse to claim her hand in fulfilment of a solemn compact, made when passing his noviciate in that city. This intelligence came like death upon my heart; and, for many days, I held myself averse from the gay company and the old courtesies of my house. My noble friends saw my spirit to be sick, and strove to come at its disease; but I had already formed my resolution, rather than confess my weakness, to die of an undiscovered grief, and, since my malady was hopeless, that it should be also voiceless. I preserved that strict silence which is alone the security of secrecy. But, nevertheless, I wept my sorrows in the loneliness and darkness of the sleepless night; and this I did, till the paleness of my cheek was now so constant, instead of its wonted ruddiness, that it was scarcely noticed, either by the pitying kindly, or the prying curious. The flatterer, the whisperer, and the surmiser, left me thenceforth to myself; and my palace, which had been the open hall of revel and riot, was now serious as the house of death. A moody quiet, and the silent abstractedness of a pining passion informed the silence, with a voice audible as the song of pleasure, or the hum of revelry, that joy had winged from those walls.

This violent change in the vivacity of my living did not escape the notice of Guido; but still his heart, which was too much occupied with his promised happiness, seemed no way conscious of the reason for this gloomy change. He inquired, with the kindness natural to him, of those he could not be informed by, why it was; and deeming it to be some mood of the mind, arising from the satiety of fortune, or from the pain of too much pleasure, he left the secret of my malady to those who might torture it by their probing, but