a word of German. At the gate of the town stood a long row of wagons, which, as soon as the chaise appeared, were set in motion and followed it.

The confectioner, who was a bachelor, lived alone in his little house, with a youth of sixteen, whom he had taken from an orphan-asylum. This youth, who clung to his master with great devotion, served him, by reason of his innate stupidity, as jack-of-all-trades. In the morning he performed in the back-room, the duties of an apprentice, then changed himself for the sweeping and cooking into a maid, and when the day was ended, reached the highest stage of his transformation, by serving in white apron and cap the guests of his master. Jean occupied at night an attic room, which had a little window looking out on the yard, and always slept long, till the voice of his master sounded from below.

The morning after this momentous night, he woke without being called. It was not quite light, but the customary time for rising appeared to him to have long gone by. "To-day," thought he, "the master sleeps beautifully long; you can take advantage of it, Jean;" and he turned himself over once again, and dreamed a pleasant dream

When he awoke the second time the sun stood high in the heavens, and he sprang nimbly out of bed. This would bring him a pretty morning-blessing! In a trice he had put on his clothes, and slipped down stairs like a culprit. The door of the confectioner's room stood wide open. He did not venture to look in. Below, everything was still as death. The shop was dark. The shutters were not even opened, and yet in the street all was stirring. Whilst he was still standing, lost in wonder, there came a maid to buy some pastry.

"Ei! what kind of people are you?" cried she. "Three times have I been here, and everytime the shutters were closed. I thought Master Leck must be dead."

"Ah! Trinchen," stammered the boy, "I am afraid he is.” "Why so? Is he not up-stairs?"

"I do not know. I am afraid to look."

"The maid quickly crossed the floor to the stairs, and looking up,

called,

"Master Leck! Master Leck!"

No answer.

"Hem!" said she in a thoughtful manner.

"This is very strange !"

Jean gathered courage and cried once more, “Master, there is some one here."

All was quiet.

"Oh, Trinchen!" groaned the boy as if his heart was breaking. "Ei! what has happened? Do look around! Do look around! I must tell my people of this." And thereupon the maid departed and left the timid youth alone.

At last he mustered courage enough to peep into the confectioner's room. It was empty, and in the greatest disorder. "Master!" cried he at the door of the sleeping apartment. Not a sound was heard. He stealthily entered. The bed was empty! the bed-clothes were tossed aside; boots, coat and pantaloons were gone! Something lying on the floor, near the wall, caught his eye. He picked it up. It was one of the Master's stockings, which the soldiers in their haste must have dropped.

"Dear me !" said Jean looking sorrowfully at it, "with only one stocking!"

By and by, he started out to ask advice of the guests of the preceding evening. The barber lived next door, and to him he went and declared with loud sobs, that his master must have wandered off during the night, and with only one stocking.

The barber was not a little surprised at this strange news, and, as he was just about starting on his daily tour, he took his scissors bag under his arm and hurried over to the confectioner's house.

"This is a very surprising occurrence," said he, when he had thoroughly examined all the rooms. "Do you know what, Jean? I have not time now, but you search the house again, and as soon as my customers are all served, I will be here, and if Master Leck has not returned then, we will have it published."

The poor boy sat down at the door, for he feared to be alone in the inside, and wept so piteously that many of the passers-by stopped and allowed him to relate to them the cause of his sorrow. In less than half an hour a great crowd of men had gathered around the little shop, as if some one had hung himself in it.

Presently the barber returned. "Silence, boy," he called whilst still at a distance. "Your master will come again. Open the shop so that the people will disperse. It is a very suspicious occurrence."

Several times during the day he came running in to see if Master Leck had returned, and also to comfort the youth, who bravely attended to the business.

Meanwhile the news of the sudden disappearance of the confectioner, ran through the town with many exaggerations, and naturally reached the ears of the members of the club, who through impatience could kir hardly wait until evening. At last the usual hour struck, and the confectioner's little shop was quickly filled. Seated at the long table they began to look at the matter from all sides, but could arrive at no conclusion. The stocking also, went the rounds, and was received with universal awe, and head-shaking. The barber, who assumed the part of host, and was zealously busy, shared in the conference and threw a little light on the affair. He had ascertained something in the neighborhood, and now imparted the singular intelligence, that at midnight a chaise had stopped before the door, which was loudly knocked at, and that the rattling of arms, and the sound of voices had been heard. Nobody thought it worth while to get up, to ascertain the same, for in this time of war, such noises in the street were not unusual. But the fact that the chaise had stopped in front of Leck's house, was beyond a doubt, and furnished a clue which the guests took another day to follow. They solemnly determined that, first of all, the police should be notified of the disappearance of the confectioner, then that they would continue the business, a baker declaring himself ready to send fresh pastry every morning, and that Jean, who was an honest lad, should consign the money to the barber, the temporary administrator of the spiritous liquors.

Thus the business of the shop was carried on, and one day after another passed, without any further news of Master Leck, who was now the the daily subject of conference, conjectures and inquiries.— The revolutionary members of the club, had put all the magistrates, and especially the burgomaster in 'great fear, and the barber spoke of nothing else with his highest and best customers. It happened, as he was executing an order at the town-hall one day, that the burgomaster taking him by the arm led him aside into a room, and whispered in his ear, "Master, your friend lives, is in good health and will certainly return,—When? That I do not know and I can say nothing further. We live in a hard time, where might lords it over right. The prudent are silent, silent, Muller, do you understand? Adieu !" These remarkable words, which did not indeed help to clear up the mystery, the barber communicated in the evening to the company gathered in the confectioner's shop, who drew this comfort from them that the missing one still lived. Before this they had every Wednesday and Saturday evening, inspected the list of accidents in the offi

cial gazette, to discover, perchance, that the corpse of a man had been found, which might prove to be that of the confectioner. The stereotyped questions now were,-When will he return? Where is The detained, by whom, and for what reason? Meanwhile in the barber's mind it was still "a very suspicious occurrence."

Four whole weeks had gone by since the disappearance of honest Martin Leck, when one evening the members of the club again sat round the table, and talked of politics, but with a strange sadness in their demeanor and conversation, for they could not forget their unfortunate neighbor, of whose safety they now almost despaired. The barber came in with a more thoughtful countenance than usual.

"Anything new, Muller?" inquired one of the guests.

"Herr!" said he, "nothing! and yet a postillion has come to the Governor through the Leipsic-gate."

"From headquarters, perhaps," was suggested.

"From Dantzic," continued the barber musingly, "the gate-clerk says.”

"From Dantzic!" repeated the grocer. "As often as Dantzic is mentioned, I have to think of the strange evening when you came in with the news,' Dantzic is taken.' It was the last time poor Leck was with us."

"And I was right then," returned the barber triumphantly. "God forgive me! That evening I was provoked at the man because he contradicted me so stubbornly, Afterwards it hurt me that we separated half in anger. I'll venture-"

He stopped suddenly and listened.

At this moment a sword

rattled upon the floor, and a gendarme entered the room, and inquired if one of the company was barber Muller.

"I, I," hastily answered the one sought for, in an anxious manner. "Here is a letter for you."

"A letter! and where from ?"

"From Dantzic."

"And for me?

Good friend, be so kind as to read me the address. It must be a mistake."

The gendarme read, "Honorable Herr Heinrich Muller, of Cassel."

"Yes, yes, that am I indeed, but how came the letter into your hands, if I may be allowed to ask?"

The gendarme took the glass which the barber with these words offered him, and replied:

"A postillion from Dantzic brought the letter and delivered it at the government-house."

"What might be the contents?" cried several voices.

"Oh!" said the barber, "that we will soon learn," and adjusting his spectacles he unfolded the letter and read:

Dantzic is taken!

DANTZIC, June 23, 1807.

MARTIN LECK, Confectioner of Cassel.

It would be hard to describe the unbounded astonishment of the guests upon the reading of this laconic epistle. The barber first recovered himself. "Children," he cried, his eyes glistening, half with sympathy, half with joy, "Is it a mad-house, where am I? Do I dream, or-God forgive me! Here read it yourselves." He handed the letter to the grocer, who then gave it to the shoemaker, and from him it went to the soap-boiler, and in that way, passed around the circle. At last the whole company burst out into a hearty laugh, and little Jean, back in the corner, understanding nothing of it, laughed until the merry tears ran down his cheeks, and the gendarme, at sight of so many joyful faces, must also laugh, although the reason was not very clear to him. And now, more of the guests offered him wine, and he could not refuse a good drink. His potations ended, he wished the gentlemen good night and left the shop.

But, dear people," began one of the company, "we laugh, and, on the whole, the occasion is devilishly serious. How comes Leck in Dantzic? The letter appears to me, as if it had been dictated by one who did not understand much German. Do you then believe, that Leck went of his own will to Dantzic?"

It was a beautiful June morning, in the year 1807. In his room in Dantzic, Marshal Lefevre, also Duke of Dantzic, walked to and fro, yawning and half asleep, for he had just risen. His valet entered with fresh linen, to assist him in dressing. Several military attendants came and went. Presently the adjutant of the Marshal appeared.

"Anything new, Latour?" cried he to the latter.

"Nothing of importance, your Highness. Last night a train of all kinds of wagons, which we had left standing at various points on the