To be sure, the principal one, which is said to be a
German league in length, is rather fine. The old convent of the Ladies of
St. Ursula, is curious at least. They show you in it the bones of 11,000
virgins, who they say were murdered by the Huns at the time of their
invasion, when they destroyed the town. I might easily have had a taste
of them; but I had no fancy for such antiquated old maids. In the
Cathedral, or Dom, as they call it, you see the tomb of the three famous
kings of Cologne, and the gold and silver chests which contain the bones
of the Holy Engelberth. I don't think, in the whole town, there is any
thing else worth the trouble of looking at. The hotel "Le Prince Charles,"
I found tolerably comfortable: there is a good French cook, but he is
a saucy fellow.
(_To be concluded in our next_.)
* * * * *
THE SELECTOR;
AND
LITERARY NOTICES OF
_NEW WORKS_.
* * * * *
A MOTHER'S LOVE
Oh, beauteous were my baby's dark blue eyes,
Evermore turning to his mother's face,
So dove-like soft, yet bright as summer skies;
And pure his cheek as roses, ere the trace
Of earthly blight or stain their tints disgrace.
O'er my loved child enraptured still I hung;
No joy in life could those sweet hours replace,
When by his cradle low I watched and sung--
While still in memory's ear his father's promise rung.
Long, long I wept with weak and piteous cry
O'er my sweet infant, in its rosy bloom,
As memory brought my hours of agony
Again before my mind:--I mourned his doom;
I mourned my own: the sunny little room
In which, opress'd by sickness, now I lay,
Weeping for sorrows past, and woes to come,
Had been my own in childhood's early day.
Pages:
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48