They need not have hurried; for it was long before the passengers could disembark. The wind was contrary, so that the vessel had to remain at some distance from the shore; and when the first boat put off, it was too distant for those on shore to discover who made up its burden. Rudolph looked around for his friend with the glass, but he did not see him; so he was obliged to wait patiently till the boat neared the shore. This was not long; but it seemed so to those who were straining their eyes to catch the first glimpse of the passengers. At last it was near enough for them to distinguish countenances. Every face was strange. Another boat approached, and again they gazed, and again were disappointed. A third left the vessel's side.

"There he is!" cried Rudolph, after a breathless pause. "Father! Mother! see! there is Conrad! he waves his hat!" and Rudolph snatched his from his head, and returned his friend's greeting.

But Conrad's hat was not the only one waved to them from the boat; and when Rudolph's eye fell on the other person who saluted him, he stood for a moment as if petrified. His father also recognized that person. Christina seemed about to sink to the earth; she seized her husband's arm, and gasped, "Rudolph, is it he?"

For a minute Rudolph did not answer; then, flourishing his hat higher than ever, he exclaimed, with wild delight, “It is he! it is Hans! See, Grete points to him, and waves her handkerchief."

Off Rudolph bounded to the water's side, and Christina would fain have followed; but the flood of happiness was too strong for her, and she fainted. When she recovered, how many friendly hands seemed busy about her! Grete was trying to restore her; while Hans hung over her, laughing and crying alternately, from delight at the meeting and terror at his mother's swoon.

"Is it indeed no dream, but really my boy?" said she, when she was once more restored to herself. "He is grown and altered; but it is Hans himself-I see it is!" and she clasped him to her breast, and shed over him a torrent of happy tears. "I never thought to have seen either of my children again in this world, and now they are both by my side. God be praised for his mercy!"

"Yes," said Conrad, "let us thank him

that we are all permitted to meet once more; and, next to him, let us thank this brave fellow here," laying his hand on Rudolph's shoulder. "Without his courage and perseverance, he and Hans must have been now shut up with the priests, instead of comforting their father and mother, as I hope they will long live to do."

Caspar embraced his son, and his mother gave him a look which rewarded him for all the sufferings he had passed through.

"But why did you not send me word you had found him, Conrad ?" asked Caspar. "The shock has been almost too much for his poor mother. Why did you not prepare us beforehand for seeing him ?"

"It is not my fault, if you were not prepared," answered Conrad. "I sent you word as soon as I heard anything myself, that is, very soon after I got your letter, informing me you meant to meet us here. I wrote immediately to tell you the good news, and also to give you further information about our intended journey. You must have set off before my letter arrived."

"Well, it matters little," said Caspar, "now that it has pleased God to restore him to us, safe and well. But tell me, Conrad, how you found him, and all that has happened since we parted."

"Presently," answered Conrad; "but just now I must look after our goods, which, if only trifles in themselves, are great matters to me and Grete. Meanwhile you can question Hans about his adventures.”

But before Hans had time to make any communications, his attention was attracted by the approach of another friend. His parents and his brother looked at him with astonishment, when he bounded from their side toward a strange gentleman, who greeted him with all the affectionate familiarity of an old acquaintance.

"This is Mr. Vernon," said he, in answer to their inquiring looks; "and here, sir, are father and mother; and this is Rudolph."

"Is this Mr. Vernon ?" said Caspar, bowing respectfully to the young Englishman, who shook his hand cordially. "How shall I ever thank you, sir, for all you have done for this poor boy of mine?"

"I have done nothing but what was

my duty in common humanity," answered Mr. Vernon; "but I hope Hans has found a better friend than I could be to him. I have much to say, both to him and to you; but we will leave all that till tomorrow, and allow you to enjoy this first day of reunion without interruption. Where is Conrad ?"

Hans led the way to the spot where Conrad was, and then flew back to his mother's side.

Mr. Vernon informed Conrad that he had provided lodgings for the whole party, and told him where to find them. He then said he would call upon them the next morning at an hour which he named, and communicate to Conrad some information which he had promised to obtain for him respecting emigration.

The next morning seemed to come quickly, and yet few hours of the night had been given to repose. Much of what our readers already know had to be related; and, besides, Hans had to tell how he and Mr. Vernon had returned to Dresden, and heard from Madame Stiel about her accidental meeting with Rudolph; how they had found Conrad; and how Hans was preparing to follow his brother into Prussia, when they heard that his father intended to meet Conrad at Hamburgh.

They were still talking and listening earnestly when Mr. Vernon appeared. After the congratulations and thanks natural on such an occasion had been exchanged, Mr. Vernon asked Caspar what he meant to do-whether he had any intention of accompanying Conrad across the Atlantic.

"Why, indeed, sir," answered he, "I have not yet thought much about it. Before this boy was found, the thought of him used to drive away every other; and since he has been restored, we have scarcely had time to think of anything. But I suppose we must make up our minds now. What say you, mother, to

our casting our lot with theirs?"

Christina answered with indifference. "Anywhere," she said; "I am ready to go anywhere with my husband and my boys."

"It is hard to say which place is the best," said Caspar. "America is a fine country, no doubt, but better, perhaps, for those who have something to take with them, than for one so poor as I am."

"But one of your sons possesses a sum

sufficient to emigrate with, and I think I know him well enough to say, that he will consider it as much the property of his parents as his own, and that he will wish it to be laid out in the way which you consider most likely to be beneficial to the whole family."

They looked at each other, wondering what this meant.

"You must have made a mistake, sir,' said Caspar. "Small have ever been the possessions of me and mine; but now, miserable exiles that we are, what have we left, but strength to labor for our dayly bread ?" "No, I have made no mistake," said Mr. Vernon, smiling; "for I have in my hands some money which is to be expended for the benefit of Hans, and it was to consult you about the disposal of it that I wished to see you this morning."

He then named a sum which appeared enormous to the mountaineers, who were little accustomed to the possession of money.

"How kind, how generous you are sir!" cried Hans.

"You need not thank me, Hans," re turned his friend; "I am too poor my self to be able to do such generous deeds. It is another friend, a kind one both to you and to me, that you must thank for this bounty."

Hans soon guessed who his benefactor was. The nobleman with whom Mr. Vernon had been staying had placed the money in his hands, with instructions to dispose of it in any manner that might be most advantageous to his young friend.

Having learned from Conrad that it was not unlikely the family might be disposed to emigrate, Mr. Vernon had made many inquiries respecting the best districts in which to settle, and the best manner of preparing for such a destination. He well knew that from the want of proper information before setting out, arise much of the disappointment and suffering which settlers too often experience.

In gaining information, and in seeking out the persons from whom to obtain it, the young artist had exhibited as much intelligence and sagacity as the most experienced man of the world could have done, and he had acted with as much industry and perseverance as if the business had been his own.

SET A THIEF TO CATCH A THIEF.

SOME

OME eight years ago, at Constantinople, the diamonds of the Austrian embassador's lady were stolen from her toilette-table by some peculiarly cunning and daring thieves. A large reward was offered for the recovery of the gems, and Dindar was deputed by his superiors to the office of a detective in this particular case. In the course of a week, Dindar, whose scent no border bloodhound ever surpassed, got a clew to the originators of the robbery. The plunderers were numerous, and as the jewels could not be sold without great risk of detection in Constantinople, they had resolved to carry them for sale to Teheran, where they had no doubt of finding a ready market for their valuable booty among the nobles of Persia. Dindar Agha found out their intended route, and on the arrival of the rascals at Kars, a respectable merchant from Koordistan, in a high cap of black sheepskin and a huge robe, entered their caravanserai, and very dexterously managed to extract from them, in the course of conversation, an avowal that they had diamonds for sale. For these the pretended merchant, who was no other than our old friend Dindar, offered to give a handsome price, and thus save them the trouble of continuing their journey to the capital of the Shah. After a great deal of bargaining, the robbers agreed to sell the jewels for ninety thousand piastres, or nine hundred pounds sterling, and with apparent reluctance and hesitation the merchant produced a heavy leathern bag and counted out the sum in silver beschliks. The money was some fictitious coin manufactured by a gang of forgers in England or Russia, and which had been seized by the Vizier and confiscated. The wily Dindar had provided himself with a large supply of this counterfeit money, and was thus enabled to purchase the gems of the Baroness von for a few handfuls of clipped pewter. The robbers left Kars joyfully on their homeward route. At their first halting-place, however, some of the more wary began to suspect the accommodating merchant who had so opportunely interposed to save them the weary ride to Teheran. Perhaps Dindar, aware of the worthlessness of his circulating medium, was too eager and too compliant in bargaining to suit his feigned character

of a greedy trader. At any rate, the thieves examined the contents of the money-bag, and discovered the beschliks to be spurious imitations, even greasier and more adulterated than the Sultan's shabby coin.

The gang returned at full

speed to Kars, found the treacherous merchant quietly smoking his chibouque in the caravanserai, furiously accused, deprived him of the brilliants which he had unjustly obtained, beat him severely with bridles, belts, and pipe-sticks, with the full and unqualified approbation of the bystanders, and finally only abstained from dragging him before the cadi from the fear that the signalement of some of the party might be unpleasantly familiar to the myrmidons of the magistrates of Kars. Having thus regained possession of the brilliants, they hastened on toward Teheran.

A fresh plan was soon formed, and Dindar Aghar mounted his horse, without heeding either his aching bones or the jeers and curses of the other inmates of the khan, who regarded him not only as a dishonest trader, but far worse-as a detected impostor. He rode as fast as possible on the road toward Persia, until his horse, knocked up by two hard days' traveling over stony ground, became too lame to proceed. Dindar, who was as good a judge of the equine race and as adroit a haggler as the canniest native of Yorkshire, purchased a strong shaggy yaboo from a peasant for a trifle, and pursued his journey. Pushing on unremittingly, and seeking a little frequented pass in the mountain range, Dindar had the gratification of arriving before the robbers among the wide-spreading plains of Persia. It was some time before he encountered a band fit for his purpose: the Koords were too savage and treacherous, the Uzbecks too fierce and morosę, the Eelyauts too pastoral and gentle to be the allies of this Candiote Ulysses. At last he arrived among the black tents and picketed camels of a tribe of Turcomans

-a

* *

people brave, hospitable, and faithful, but with exceedingly mediæval ideas of the rights of property. To the chieftain of this horde, Sultaun Moorad, Dindar told a plaintive tale of wrong and violence. He had been cheated out of the price of a set of superb jewels, which he had sold to some Kafirs of merchants at Kars. The unbelieving dogs, rank Sheahs and heretics, as well as swindlers, (Sultaun Moorad

was a Sounei,) had taken away the money they had paid him for the diamonds by force, after he had given his receipt, and when he complained at the footstool of justice, the cadi of Kars-that son of a burned father and grandsire of asses-had taken a bribe from the thieves to apply the bamboo to Dindar, and to drive him with blows from the court-him an old man and a Mussulman! Whereupon there had remained no other resource to the ill-treated and disconsolate Dindar than to prostrate himself in the dust of the Turcoman encampment, to grasp the spear of the chief, to kiss the hem of his robe, and to adjure the brave and victorious Sultaun Moorad, before whom the universe trembled, to put himself at the head of his lion-eating warriors, and surprise the robbers on their road to Teheran. Dindar added, that besides the diamonds the rascals had above ninety thousand piastres in silver in their possession, and that he should be content with the restitution of the gems, leaving the money to his valiant ally, whom he finally implored, by the beard of his father and the salt of his hospitality, to protect and avenge him. The Turcoman chief sympathized with the wronged and injured Dindar, and his eye sparkled at the mention of the piastres. He agreed to punish Dindar's enemies, and to restore him the gems, and forthwith plucked his spear from the ground where it was planted before his tent, mounted his steed, which had borne him on many a day of battle and chappow, and called around him his young men, who mustered gladly at the first announcement of a foray. To the astonishment and dismay of the Stamboul thieves, as they emerged from the intricate passes of the mountains into the open plains, they were charged by an overwhelming force of Turcoman cavalry. Half of their number fell beneath the cimeters and lances of Sultaun Moorad and his followers, and the survivors, having been stripped and plundered, were detained in a state of slavery among the wild horde. As for Dindar, the chief kept his word most faithfully. The diamonds were given up to the wily Cretan, who returned forthwith to Constantinople, restored the jewels to the Baroness von and

duly claimed the reward. The Turcoman chief was content with the counterfeit coin.

THE

HAYDN.

HE degree of Doctor of Music was conferred upon Haydn at a time when the honor was not so cheap as now of attainment. It being customary, in return for this mark of distinction, to exhibit a piece of music, as a specimen of learning in the art, he sent them a MS. which was so composed that, whichever way it was read-whether backward, forward, from top to bottom, or the reverse, or from the middle, or in any way that could be devised-it always preserved the same air, and had a correct accompaniment.

At this

When Haydn left London, his fortune was summed up in the amount of fourteen hundred pounds; but although his exchequer was not of the fullest, his heart overflowed with feelings of gratitude and kindness for the friendship and encouragement he had received in England-feelings often too little indulged by those who have found England the El Dorado of their fortune. On his return through Germany, he at intervals gave several concerts—a means of accomplishing an end-the inincrease of his small fortune. time Haydn entertained serious notions of securing a provision for his declining years—notions which were greatly assisted, a short time afterward, by the addition of a thousand pounds to his store by the sale of the Creation and the Seasons. At length he became the purchaser of a neat little dwelling-place at Schönbrunn. Soon after taking possession of his humble home, he received a letter from the French Institute, nominating him an associate—an honor which, coming as it did in the old age of the hard-working professor, was doubly acceptable. It is a singular fact, that Sheridan, the dramatist, was put in nomination with Haydn for the associateship; but the former was preferred.

Haydn's admiration of the " mighty genius" of Handel was enthusiastic in the extreme. Upon hearing the Messiah, he frankly avowed to a distinguished amateur, that the author was the "chief of all modern musicians;" and he frequently confessed that his genius and his love for the art were excited by hearing the works of Handel: to this admiration may in some measure be ascribed the origin of the Creation. Haydn had heard some of Handel's finest works performed by a competent orchestra in Westminster Abbey; and