congregation from the spot. Another obstacle to the truth is found in the deep ignorance and perverted views of morality which prevail. One instance will suffice, for which we are indebted to Mr. Mullins. Mr. Müller, a missionary, once appealing to a man's conscience with respect to the rewards of good and evil, was answered by the following story: A certain butcher bought a cow, tied her by a rope, and was about to bring her home, when suddenly she broke loose and ran away. In running after her he met a man, who in his whole lifetime never told a lie, and on his asking him whether he had seen his cow, he was told by him that, if he followed this road, he was sure to catch her. On went the butcher: not far off he met another man, who in his lifetime never told the truth, and putting the same question to him, he was told that he was quite in the wrong road, and if he wished to find his cow he must go to the left. After this, both these men died, and they were called before the judgment seat of God. The final sentence was that the latter, because he had saved the life of the cow by telling a lie, was rewarded by being born twenty times a king; while the other, who by telling the truth would have caused her destruction, was condemned for twenty lifetimes to be gnawed by worms. On this anecdote Mr. Mullens justly remarks: "Confounded and perverted ideas like these are constantly met with, and though they are absurd enough to confute themselves, yet the poor people applaud and adopt them with superstitious fondness."

There are a few arrangements in the missionary economy of the Basel Society which differ from other societies. For instance, it is a rule made by the house-committee, and reaffirmed by the missionaries themselves, that every missionary and mission family shall receive a subsistence allowance and not a fixed salary. And, in order to reduce expenditure to the minimum, unmarried missionaries are expected to reside with others, receiving a very small pittance beyond their board. Nor can they marry without permission being first obtained. In this manner it has been brought about, that, annually, twenty-four missionaries and sixteen missionaries' wives are supported for the small sum of twentythree thousand rupees; house-rent is not included in this calculationthe dwelling-houses belong to the society, and the missionaries, consequently, live rent free. Building and repairs cost six thousand rupees more. The missionaries' journeys, moonshees, and postage, are paid for separately. A very large portion of the funds of this Mission is obtained from Christians in India. The missionaries derive about 45,000 rupees from Germany, and receive from ten to twelve thousand rupees in India.

"This proof of the great liberality of the English Christians in India to a German Mission deserves especial mention. It shows the great sympathy which is felt for their labours, and the hearty confidence with which the missionaries are regarded. The individual donations which their subscription-lists exhibit are perfectly amazing. Subscriptions of one hundred rupees are quite common; but those of two, three, and four hundred, also occur. Such assistance has been eminently useful to the Mission from its establishment, and without it the operations of the society in India would be greatly curtailed."

We have dwelt on this subject from a feeling that the efforts of the Germans in the cause of religion are not rightly estimated in this country. It is too much the fashion to regard religion as thoroughly ignored among our German brothers, and that rationalism has quite gained the

upper-hand. We trust that the facts we have brought forward will serve to dispel such an opinion, and prove that the Germans have the good cause at heart as sincerely as ourselves, though, unfortunately, the resources at their command are but slight, when compared to those of our English missionary societies. But we are glad to find so liberal an advocate of the German missionary in Mr. Mullins. His review of the religious system in India is drawn up impartially and without the slightest bias where faults are to be corrected, he does not hesitate from pointing them out, and we naturally feel the more confidence in his account of German missions. We may, therefore, wind up our account of the German Evangelical Mission by quoting his eloquent remarks, when closing this section of his book:

"The Mission which has now been briefly described is not carried on by English missionaries under a government to which they naturally belong, and in a society of which they are born members; it is a Mission established and maintained by foreigners for the welfare of the subjects of a foreign government. But to labours like theirs what English Christian will not extend a hearty welcome, and pray for a hearty blessing! Fellow believers in the Great Truth of Salvation, they have become fellow workers with us in seeking the conversion of Hindustan. Thrice blessed be their purpose-thrice blessed their holy toil! Cut off more than others from home and fatherland, may they feel the sacrifice a thousand-fold made up by Him for whom it is made!"

A DREAM AND THE REALITY.

BY MARY C. F. MONCK.

I DREAMED a bright and blissful dream,-
And had I mines of gold and gems,
The glory and the pomp of earth,
Her sceptres and her diadems,
I'd give them all without a sigh
Could I but make that vision stay,
And shed upon my waking hours
The light that on my slumbers lay.
I saw the dying sun look forth

From the bright chamber of the west,
Where gold and purple fire-tinged clouds
Curtained his proud and gorgeous rest.
But far above him, pale and fair,

In lucent blue the young moon shone,
Like patient grief that veils her brow,
Till pride and might their worst have done.

A river wandered far and free,

By meadow slope, by hill and wood,
And purple flow'rs and yellow flags
Bent down to kiss the glowing flood.
Sweet was the summer wind that raised
The careless locks upon my brow,
And stirred the long and silky grass,

And waved the dark-green alder bough.

Sweet was its cool and balmy breath,
And sweet the murmur of the stream;
But sweeter were the joyous tones

That echoed softly through my dream.
And once again-young gladsome things-
We watched the bright waves rolling by,
Changing their tints with every hue
That mantled in the evening sky.

And in the brake our curious eyes
Looked down upon the linnet's nest;
We found the wild bee's mossy cave,
And to our lips the brown cells prest.
We brought the lilies to the land,

We tore the bright moss from the oak,
Made swords and lances of the reeds,
And, wild and laughing, I awoke.
Awoke to hear the wintry wind
Moaning as one in fear and pain;
Now far away on hill and fell,

Now hoarsely shrieking back again.
To hear against my window dashed
The softly-floating feathery snow,
And think the dim grey morning light
Would see a stainless world below.
To know that dark and weary months
Of wailing storms must onward pass,
Before the leaf is on the bough,

Or meadow blossoms gem the grass. The sullen river rushes on,

Angry and swollen, to the sea; And dull as lead the sparkling tide That danced and shone so merrily.

Awoke to know that summer suns

Will wake the trees and fields to bloom-
But oh! their splendour cannot break
The icy slumbers of the tomb;

And some who were my playmates there,
Upon that green and sunlit shore,
Shall see the blossoms bud and blow,
The summer flush and fade, no more.

And some, who bear a heavy heart
Within an overladen breast,
Would gladly lay their burdens down,
And share the sleepers' envied rest.
The world hath stilled the joyous laugh,
And marked the young face for its own;
And Hope-with weary, bleeding feet,
Faints in a path with briers strown.

But some-the dearest of them all—
Are far away beyond the sea;
And youth may pass, and age come on,
Yet never bring them back to me.
I own a light and careless heart,
Yet in that midnight hour was fain
To weep-and wept the more that tears
And fond regrets were all in vain.

CARLSRUHE THEATRICALS AND REALITIES; WITH A FEW› WORDS UPON THE GERMAN BURNS.

BY AN OLD TRAVELLER.

ANOTHER page or two must complete my notices of " Our First and Last Winter at Carlsruhe." I have mentioned the theatre as one of our most frequent sources of amusement. Its interior was said to have

been constructed upon the model of a Roman theatre; but I did not myself recognise the resemblance to any original that I remembered; and it will be sufficient to describe it as consisting of three tiers of boxes, with wide balconies in front, and the usual pit. Here, at the moderate nightly expense of a florin (about 1s. 8d.), or for a monthly subscription of seven florins, we could enjoy an opera or drama three times a week, given by performers who, taken altogether, were equal to any that I saw in Germany. The boxes for the duke and duchess (who are generally present) with those for their suite, and for the Margraves, occupy a considerable portion of the centre of the first tier. In the balcony immediately before them is the Fremdeloge, or box appropriated to strangers (to which the admission is about two shillings); and the remainder of the first balcony to the right is entirely occupied by the officers of the troops (sometimes amounting to five thousand) who are stationed at Carlsruhe. This military patronage of the drama is, to some extent, secured by a deduction towards the expenses of the theatre, from each officer's pay; but it is very trifling, the contribution of a subaltern being only about half a gros écu (or two shillings English) a month. Being admitted on such easy terms, they are very regular in their attendance, and as they always appear in uniform, they give a brilliancy to the house. In addition to these military contributions, there is a payment from the ducal treasury of 100,000 florins yearly; or about eight thousand three hundred pounds; so that, on the whole, a Carlsruhe manager does not conduct his affairs in constant fear of the Gazette.

The performances are never, as in England and France, prolonged to weariness. A single drama, or a couple of shorter pieces, occupying about three hours, is usually the utmost extent; and when they bring out operas the change is so frequent as to afford a variety rarely enjoyed. In Italy the same opera is repeated for weeks. During the season I was in Carlsruhe we had "William Tell," "The Pirate," "The Bayadere," "Robert le Diable," "John of Paris," "Fidelio," "The Siege of Corinth," "The Gazza Ladra," "Tancred," "Ivanhoe"-(I give their names in a lingua franca)—and probably others that I forget.

Our dramas were too often mere translations from the French or English. Amongst the latter I recognised my old acquaintance, "Simpson and Co." (as Der Unschuldige muß viel leiden), “X Y Z," the "Three and the Deuce;" and, one which was the very last I ever expected to see in a foreign language, the "Wild Oats" of O'Keefe. Those who still remember their enjoyment of this clever five-act farce, with its continual quotations from our favourite dramatists, will be aware of the difficulty of translating it; but the German has accomplished his task with April-VOL. CIII. NO. CCCCXII.

2 G

great dexterity; and by adding to the quotations from Shakspeare a few others from Schiller, &c., he has produced a piece as amusing as the original.

Some of the best of the German dramas, and the most interesting to a stranger, were those which were descriptive of their own manners or habits, or founded on their early history. The higher class of productions by Göthe, Schiller, Lessing, &c., were rarely acted. An historical play on the death of Cromwell, of which a German friend, in whose taste I had confidence, spoke highly, was given when I could not attend; but I was much gratified with their Hans Sachs, and with parts of Johannes Guttenberg.

The latter is written by one of the female authors of modern Germany, and its first act appeared to me to display considerable talent and power. The situation and feelings of Guttenberg-full of enthusiastic confidence in the success and importance of his invention-but deserted by his impatient and wearied friends; persecuted by his creditors; selling the silver helmet won by his ancestor in the tournay at Mayence, to satisfy their claims; and at last, through the intrigues of the clergy, abandoned even by his wife; yet still persevering with high-minded hope to complete a discovery of which he describes the effects upon the destinies of mankind with noble eloquence-were all either beautifully embodied by the poet, or made to appear so by the admirable acting of Devrient. But the progress of the piece was less satisfactory. The daughter of Fust very coolly steals the first printed Bible from her father, in order to present it to Guttenberg, whom the intrigues of Schäffer have thrown into prison; and historical truth is disregarded in making Schäffer himself the most despicable of villains.

Of the farces, or dramas of common life, one of the truest representations of the manners of the working classes-their drinking, smoking, maudlin sentimentality, and speech-making-was Das Fest der Handwerker; and one of the most amusing, Zu ebener Erde, und erster Stock, oder Die Launen des Glücks ("First and Ground-Floor, or the Freaks of Fortune"). It is a kind of duplex farce, for which two separate stages are prepared, one being placed above the other; and it has two plots, dovetailing into each other, with double sets of songs, duets, and situations. On the first floor is a proud millionnaire, surrounded by all the splendours and luxuries of wealth. On the ground-floor (an arrangement of which continental life admits) is the family of an old-clothes man, whose brother-in-law, to indicate a still lower degree of poverty, is called in the bills a "broken down" member of the same profession. While the millionnaire is giving a delicious banquet, and his champagne is poured forth in sparkling profusion, the family on the ground-floor is seen scarcely satisfying hunger on black bread and water. While the one, surrounded by pampered menials, has abundance till it oppresses him, the others, encircled by ragged children, are unable to raise money even to pay their miserable rent.

But the wheel makes a revolution. The bankruptcy of his son, and extensive losses which, as usual, do not come in single file, destroy the splendid fortune of the millionnaire; and he is finally reduced to abject poverty. In the mean time, by a simultaneous progression, first by