of undressed linen were profusely studded
with little spots of red and blue embroidery,
diamond-shaped. On one of her fingers was
a silver ring, a necklace of coins and blue
beads glittered round her throat, and blue
glass ear-rings adorned her ears.

The bridegroom, a shy, abashed bumpkin,
washed for the occasion, wore a high, black,
peakless, sheepskin cap, embroidered woollen
leggings, a dirty calico tunic, or petticoat,
descending below the knee, and a brown
frieze jacket, with rows of little brass buttons,
intended for ornament, not for use. His
long, straight hair, which had never felt the
scissors, descended to his shoulders. His
small twinkling eyes were deep set, and had
a puzzled expression. Though young, his
skin was wrinkled quite in plaits, like the
front of a shirt. He was shaven, save for a
ragged moustache clipped close to the lip,
but descending in long uneven locks at the
ends. He was very thin. He talked readily,
though he was somewhat confused and
flustered with the events of the day. He told
me that when I had first seen him, he was
returning from the chief station, whither he
had been obliged to go with his bride to ask
permission to marry of his commanding officer.
The compulsory attendance of the lady
on these occasions, he added, often caused hot
blood among the peasantry. His commanding
officer was a captain and a count. He
had four subalterns also young men, serving
under him, and twenty-four privates. They
were stationed at a small village about a
league away.

Leaving the wedding party, after a time,
to finish their rustic merrymaking
undisturbed by the presence of a stranger, I
wandered forwards among the rich
pastures of the river-side, and at last lay down
a musing by the troubled restless waters
of the mighty Danube. At a little
distance from me were a herd of some two
hundred swine. They lay chumping their food
and fattening in the mild grey air of the
November noon. They were strange pigs,
with woolly coats, long tails, long heads, and
monstrous tusks. Two swineherds tended
them. One carried a rude musical instrument,
made of a reed, and played on it, from
time to time, some plaintive and monotonous
airs, not unmusical. The other leaned on a
stout staff (it was a peeled sapling newly cut)
and listened silently. When the music
ceased they spoke together in drowsy
murmurs. There was a world of untold poetry
in the little group, a poetry of which the
dwellers in cities little dream. But I could
hear their low voices mingling with the
ceaseless flow of that haunted river, and they
seemed to me very eloquent.

Of such a race as these poor youths was
the last Prince of Servia,—a swineherd, who
hewed his brave way through many vanities,
galled and sore, through fierce enmities and
hostile interests, up to sovereign power.
What wild will-o'-the-wisps among the
marshes of human affairs are such rare
successes, gleaming only to lead astray and lure
on young ambition unto scorn!

So I mused on. From a little distance
came, at intervals, the listless tinkle of bells
round the necks of grazing cows. Some
geese walked in grave dignity among the
reeds and stubble further a-field. The wind
sighed like the voice of human sorrow grown
gentle in its solemn depths, and spoke its sad
message to the leaves, in a voice low, soothing,
and full of pity. The rich tints of wondrous
autumn are departing fast. The forest
kings upon the opposite hills put off their
glorious panoply of state with which they
welcomed in the new born month, and shiveringly
prepare for their winter sleep. A solitary
wayfarer goes singing along the road,
and smiting the stones with his staff. The
echoes of his strokes ring clear and shrill.
Their clank startles the partridge in her cover;
the wild duck flies with tremulous pinions
and a short fearful quack as he draws near;
the frog dives, with a gurgling croak, among
the marsh weeds; and the deer goes bounding
over the thicket on the heights. On the
other side, where our ship lies crippled with
broken paddles, stretch the tall poplars far
away by the dusty road. They stand like
the spirits of the departed heroes of some
patriot band who have fallen in battle, and
whose souls have passed into tall trees, ever
more sighing over the ruin of their land ,
according to the mournful traditions and
sweet fancies of the Dacian legends. The
willows nod in clusters of twos and threes
entwined together by the waters, like sisters
at the fountain; and afar off stands a noble
oak-tree, majestic and alone. I grew sad and
thoughtful when the closing evening gradually
drew her veil over a sylvan picture so
enchanting as that which brooded over these
charmed glades.

Now ready, price Threepence, Stamped, Fourpence,
THE HOLLY-TREE INN.
Being the Christmas Number of HOUSEHOLD WORDS,
And containing the amount of One regular
Number and a Half:
Also, in Twenty-eight pages, stitched,
PRICE FOURPENCE,
HOUSEHOLD WORDS ALMANAC
FOR THE YEAR 1856.
Sold by all Booksellers, and at all Railway Stations.

The Publication of the
HOUSEHOLD NARRATIVE OF
CURRENT EVENTS
Will be Discontinued at the end of the Present Year
with the Completion of the Volume. The previous
Volumes, beginning with 1850, may be had of all Book-
sellers and at all Railway Stations.