I ONCE read a short story, in which a Slav author had all the lilies and bells in a forest bending toward each other, whispering and resounding softly the words: "Glory Glory Glory " until the whole forest and then the whole world repeated the song of flowers. Such is to-day the fate of the author of the powerful historical trilogy: "With Fire and Sword," "The Deluge.."..

ALL was silent, dark, and sad in the King's castle, in the capital of Saxony. It was an autumn night, but at the end of September, the leaves are only beginning to turn yellow, cold winds are very rarely felt, the days are usually bright, and the nights warm. But on this evening the wind was blowing from the north; long black clouds followed each other in quick succession, and if a star made its appearance for a moment in the lead-coloured sky, it was quickly covered by the thick clouds. Before the gates of the castle of Georgenthor, and in the court-yards, silent sentries were pacing to and...