THE OLD BACHELOR’S NIGHTCAP. 243

the hardness of the weather. Forsaken by all, lay the old bachelor,
unable to help himself. He could scarcely reach the water-jug
that he had placed by his bed-side, and the last drop it con-
tained had been consumed. It was not fever, nor sickness, but
old age that had struck him down. Up yonder, where his couch
was placed, he was overshadowed as it were bv continual night.
A little spider, which however, he could not see, busily and cheer-
fully spun its web around him, as if it were weaving a little.crape
banner that should wave when the old man closed his eyes.

The time was very slow, and long, and dreary. Tears he had
none to shed, nor did he feel pain. The thought of Molly never
came into his mind. He felt as if the world and its noise coa-
cerned him no longer—as if he were lying outside the world, and
no one were thinking of him. For amoment he felt a sensation
of hunger—of thirst. Yes, he felt them both. But nobody came
totend him—nobody. He thought of those who had once suffered
want; of Saint-Elizabeth, as she had once wandered on earth;
of her, the saint of his home and of his childhood, the noble
Duchess of Thuringia, the benevolent lady who had been accus-
tomed to visit the lowliest cottages, bringing to the inmates re-
freshment and comfort. Her pious deeds shone bright upon his
soul. He thought of her as she had come to distribute words of
comfort, binding up the wounds of the afflicted and giving ‘meat
to the hungry, though her stern husband had chidden her for it.
He thought of the legend told of her, how she had been carry-
ing the full basket containing food and wine, when her husband,
who watched her footsteps, came forth and asked angrily what
she was carrying, whereupon she answered, in fear and trembling,
that the basket contained roses which she had plucked in the
garden; how he had torn away the white cloth from the basket.
and a miracle had been performed for the pious lady; for bread
and wine, and everything in the basket, had been transformed
into roses! ,

Thus the saint’s memory dwelt in Anthony’s quiet mind ; thus

she stood bodily before his downcast face, before his warehouse
in‘the simple booth inthe Danish land. Heuncovered his head,
and looked into her gentle eyes, and everything around him was
beautiful and roseate. Yes, the roses seemed to unfold them-
selves in fragrance.’ There came to him a sweet, peculiar odour
of apples, and he saw a blooming apple tree, which spread its
branches above him—it was the tree which Molly and he had
planted together.
_ And the tree strewed down its fragrant leaves upon him, cool-
ing his burning brow. The leaves fell upon his parched lips,
and were like strengthening bread and wine; and they fell upon
his breast, and he felt reassured and calm, and inclined to sleep
peacefully. . ;

“Now I shall sleep,” he whispered to himself. - Sleep is re-

16—2