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MY DEAREST FRIEND,

BERTHA VAN DER VYVER,

IN RECOGNITION OF HER SWEET COMPANIONSHIP,

TENDER SYMPATHY,

AND

MOST FAITHFUL LOVE

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MIDNIGHT,

without darkness, without stars! Midnight,--and the unwearied sun stood, yet visible in the heavens, like a victorious king throned on a daïs of royal purple bordered with gold. The sky above him,—his canopy, gleamed with a cold yet lustrous blue, while across it slowly flitted a few wandering clouds of palest amber, deepening, as they sailed along, to a tawny orange. A broad stream of light, falling, as it were, from the centre of the magnificent orb, shot lengthwise across the Altenfjord, turning its waters to a mass of quivering and shifting colour that alternated from bronze to copper,--from copper to silver and azure. The surrounding hills glowed with a warm, deep violet tint, flecked here and there with touches of bright red, as though fairies were lighting tiny bonfires on their summits. Away in the distance a huge mass of rock stood out to view, its rugged lines transfigured into ethereal loveliness by a misty veil of tender rose pink,—a hue curiously suggestive of some other and smaller sun that might have just set. Absolute silence prevailed. Not even

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