fusing the request of the Turkish vessels that convoyed him to stop at Balakláva, Ukraintsef directed his course straight to Constantinople, and after sighting land at Heracléa, speedily came into the Bosphorus, and anchored at sundown, on the 13th of September, opposite the Greek village of Yení-keui. A message of congratulation came from the Sultan, and boats and caïques were sent to take the embassy to Stambúl. Ukraintsef, wishing to keep within the spirit of his orders, refused to go in the Sultan's caïque unless the frigate preceded him. He was received at the landing-place by high officials sent to meet him, mounted a splendidly caparisoned horse, and, accompanied by an immense crowd, went to the house prepared for him near the church of the Virgin of Hope, at the Sand Gate, on the shore of the Sea of Mármora. Owing to the fall of the wind, the frigate had been obliged to anchor opposite the Jewish village of Kusgundjík, near Scútari, but on the next day it took an excellent position directly in front of the palace of the Seraglio Point, to the astonishment of the Sultan, the ministers, and all the people. The Turks could not understand how such a large vessel could get out of the shallow mouths of the Don, and were only quieted by the belief that it was flat-bottomed and unfit for bad weather. They expressed their annoyance at the fact that so many Dutch and Englishmen were in the Russian service, as they considered those nations to be particularly friendly to the Porte. The boats of a few Cossack pirates had advanced as far as the mouth of the Bosphorus; but no Russian vessel had been seen at Constantinople since the times of the old Greek Empire. In the tenth century, the early Russian princes had kept Constantinople in terror by their incursions, which have been greatly magnified by patriotic tradition. It is said that Oleg fitted wheels to his ships, and drew them over the peninsula to the Sea of Mármora, and hung his shield as a defiance on the Golden Gate. His son, Igór, was less successful, and his fleet was destroyed by Greek fire, with terrible loss. But those days were long past, and the exploits of Oleg and Igór were unknown to the Turks. To the Russians they were kept alive by popular songs and the chronicle of Nestor. The Russian frigate was visited by all classes of the motley population of Constantinople, and even by the Sultan himself, who was greatly interested, and carefully inspected the vessel in detail. Rumors magnified the prowess and intentions of the Russians, and it was said that ten vessels had entered the Black Sea, and were cruising off Trebizond and Sinope. A thoughtless act of Captain Pamburg added to the general excitement. He had invited to dinner a number of his French and Dutch acquaintances. After entertaining them till midnight, he fired a salute of all his guns, to the consternation of the Sultan, his wives, and the whole city, who believed that this was a signal given to the fleet of the Tsar to approach Constantinople. Early the next morning, the Grand Vizier sent Mavrocordato to Ukraíntsef to express his displeasure, and to request the punishment of the captain. If this were refused, the Sultan ordered the captain to be arrested by Turkish troops and imprisoned, and his ship to be seized and towed up to the Admiralty. Ukraíntsef replied that if the salute had been displeasing to the Sultan, it would not be repeated; but that he had no power over the commander of the vessel. Matvéief, who was then at the Hague, reported that news had come there from the Dutch agent at Smyrna, that the Sultan in his anger sent three hundred men to Captain van Pamburg, to forbid his firing again. Pamburg declared to them that they had better not attempt to board him, for he would blow up the ship the moment they had all reached the deck. The con The conferences at Constantinople, twenty-three in all, between Ukraíntsef and the secretary, Tcheredéief, on the one side, and the Reis-Effendi Mehmed Rami and Mavrocordato, the dragoman of the Porte, on the other, lasted from the 14th of November, 1699, to the 26th of June, 1700. ditions of the Russians-which, at the request of the Grand Vizier, were given in writing in Latin and Russian-were composed of sixteen articles, the chief of which were that the towns and lands conquered by Russia were to be ceded to Russia, according to the principle of uti possidetis accepted at the treaty of Carlowitz; that neither the Khan of the Crimea, nor the Tartars under his control, nor the Turks, should vex Russia with incursions, nor should, under any pretext, ask the Russian Government for the tribute of money or for presents; that Russian commercial vessels should have the right of sailing on the Black Sea; that the prisoners should be mutually exchanged, and that the Holy Sepulcher at Jerusalem should be taken away from the Catholics and given back to the Greeks. The disputes, the OLEG NAILING HIS SHIELD TO THE GATE OF CONSTANTINOPLE. delays, the quibblings were endless, and at one time the negotiations were almost entirely broken off, and could not be renewed until Zhérlof arrived from the Tsar, bringing as a final concession the alternative proposition that the towns on the lower Dnieper should remain in the possession of Russia six or seven years, and then be rasea, or that they should be entirely destroyed and occupied by neither power. The Turks claimed that the uti possidetis basis was impossible, and had actually been given up in the treaty of Carlowitz, as the Austrians, for the purpose of simplifying the frontier, had given back some small districts to Turkey. They insisted on the surrender of the lower Dnieper, and refused to mention in the treaty the maritime towns and villages on the sea of Azof. They even refused to cede more than the distance of a cannon-shot from the walls of Azof, although finally they granted surrounding territory to the distance of ten days' journey. Even after the plenipotentiaries had agreed upon the terms of the treaty, the Sultan for a time refused to sign it, unless the Russians consented to destroy all the new forts which had been constructed, such as Taganróg, Pávlofsky, and (FROM ETCHING BY PROFESSOR BRUNI.) Miúsky, and the new fortifications of Azof. With regard to the Holy Sepulcher, the Sultan claimed that this was a question entirely within his jurisdiction, which he could not mention in the treaty, but that if after the treaty the Tsar chose to make representations, he would doubtless be willing to oblige him in some respects. Mavrocordato, who, after the treaty of Carlowitz, had been made a Count of the Holy Roman Empire, and was long the guiding spirit of Turkish diplomacy, promised on his faith as an orthodox Christian to assist in this pious purpose. It was found impossible to get any concession from the Porte with regard to the Black Sea. The Turks said: "The Black Sea and all its coasts are ruled by the Sultan alone. They have never been in the possession of any other power, and since the Turks have gained sovereignty over this sea, from time immemorial no foreign ship has ever sailed its waters, nor ever will sail them. More than once, and even now have the French, Dutch, English, and Venetians begged the Porte to allow their trading ships on the Black Sea, but the Porte always has refused them and always will refuse them, because the sovereignty of this sea belongs to no one else than the Sultan. The Ottoman Porte guards the Black Sea like a pure and undefiled virgin, which no one dares to touch, and the Sultan will sooner permit outsiders to enter his harem than consent to the sailing of foreign vessels on the Black Sea. This can only be done when the Turkish Empire has been turned upside down." All that could be obtained on this point was that, after the conclusion of peace, the plenipotentiary who should come to Constantinople for its ratification should be empowered to engage in negotiations for advantageous and mutual commerce. Ukraíntsef reported that on this point the Turks were rendered still more obstinate by the advice of the foreign ministers, especially the English and French, who had great commercial interests in the East, and wished to reserve all the trade for themselves. They therefore saw with jealousy and displeasure the possibility that the Russians might have a commercial fleet either on the Black Sea or at Archangel. Ukraintsef believed that the foreign representatives did all they could to hinder the success of his mission, even in other respects, as they did not desire that Russia should get on too friendly and intimate terms with Turkey. With the representatives of other powers the Russian envoy had no intercourse, except as mutual messages of congratulation and compliment were sent. The Porte kept him under surveillance, and refused to allow him to visit the foreign legations, who lived at Gálata, in free intercourse with all the world, and they, in their turn, replied to his pressing request for aid in this matter, that they were sure of being refused by the Porte, and they did not wish to expose themselves to the affront. At last it was possible to sign a thirty years' truce-for the Sultan refused to sign a permanent peace on the ground that sufficient concessions had not been made to him. The Turks of that time always preferred a truce to a peace. By a truce nothing was settled, except for the moment. The signers abandoned no claims, and were bound to nothing. When the truce expired, all questions were again open, as if war had never ceased. The chief articles of this truce were that the towns on the Dnieper were to be destroyed within thirty days, and the land on which they stood returned to Turkey; that Azof and all its towns, both new and old, were to remain in the possession of Russia; that a belt of waste and uninhabited country should separate the whole Crimea from the Russian dominions; that the tribute and presents heretofore paid to the Tartar Khan were given up; that prisoners should be exchanged or ransomed on honorable terms; that Russian pilgrims should be allowed to go to Jerusalem without being taxed, and Russian ecclesiastics living in Turkish dominions protected from oppression and insult; and that the Resident of the Tsar in Constantinople should have the same rights and privileges as these enjoyed by other Christian powers. VOL XXI.-17. EMBRYO. I FEEL a poem in my heart to-night, As if the darkness to the outer light A something vague, and sweet, and sad; Not tearful, yet not daring to be glad, It may not reach the outer world at all, Despite its growing; Upon a poet-flower such cold winds fall To blight its blowing. But oh! whatever may the thing betide, Free life or fetter, My heart, just to have held it till it died, Will be the better. I. UNDER THE GLACIER. IN one of the deepest fjord-valleys on the western coast of Norway there lives, even to this day, a legend which may be worth relating. Several hundred years ago, a peasant dwelt there in the parish who had two sons, both born on the same day. During their infancy, they looked so much alike that even the father himself could not always tell one from the other; and as the mother had died soon after their birth, there was no one to settle the question of primogeniture. At last the father, too, died, and each son, feeling sure that he was the elder, laid claim to the farm. For well nigh a year they kept wrangling and fighting, each threatening to burn the house over the other's head if he dared to take possession of it. The matter was finally adjusted by the opportune intervention of a neighbor who stood in high repute for wisdom. At his suggestion, they should each plant side by side a twig or sprout of some tree or herb, and he to whose plant God gave growth should be the owner of the farm. This advice was accepted; for God, both thought, was a safer arbiter than man. One of the brothers, Arne, chose a fern (Ormgrass), and the other, Ulf, a sweet-brier. A week later, they went with the wise man and two other neighbors to the remote pasture at the edge of the glacier where, by common consent, they had made their appeal to the judgment of heaven. Arne's fern stood waving in dewy freshness in the morning breeze; but Ulf's sweet-brier lay prostrate upon the ground, as if uprooted by some hostile hand. The eyes of the brothers met in a long, ill-boding glance. "This is not heaven's judgment," muttered Ulf, under his breath. "Methinks I know the hand that has wrought this dastardly deed." The umpires, unmindful of the charge, examined the uprooted twig, and decided that some wild animal must have trodden upon it. Accordingly they awarded the farm to Arne. Then swifter than thought Ulf's knife flew from its sheath; Arne turned pale as death and quivered like an aspen leaf. The umpires rushed forward to shield him. There was a moment of breathless suspense. Then Ulf with a wild shout hurled his knife away, and leaped over the brink of the precipice down into the icy gulf below. A remote hollow rumbling rose from the abyss, followed by a deeper stillness. The men peered out over the edge of the rock; the glacier lay vast and serene, with its cold, glittering surface glaring against the sky, and a thousand minute rivulets filled the air with their melodious tinkling. "God be his judge and yours," said the men to Arne, and hastened away. From that day Arne received the surname Ormgrass (literally Wormgrass, Fern), and his farm was called the Ormgrass farm. And the name has clung to his descendants until this day. Somehow, since the death of Ulf, the family had never been well liked, and in their proud seclusion, up under the eternal ice-fields, they sought their neighbors even less than they were themselves sought. They were indeed a remarkably handsome race, of a light build, with well-knit frames, and with a touch of that wild grace which makes a beast of prey seem beautiful and dangerous. In the beginning of the present century Arne's grandson, Gudmund Ormgrass, was the bearer of the family name and the possessor of the estate. As ill luck would have it, his two sons, Arne and Tharald, both wooed the same maiden,-the fairest and proudest maiden in all the parish. After long wavering she at last was betrothed to Arne, as some thought, because he, being the elder, was the heir to the farm. But in less than a year, some two weeks before the wedding was to be, she bore a child; and Arne was not its father. That same night the brothers met in an evil hour; from words they came to blows, knives were drawn, and after midnight Tharald was carried up to the farm with a deep wound in his shoulder and quite unconscious. He hovered for a week on the brink of death; then the wound began to heal and he recovered rapidly. Arne was nowhere to be found; rumor reported that he had been seen the day after the affray, on board a brig bound for Hull with lumber. At the end of a year, Tharald married his brother's bride and took possession of the farm. II. ONE morning in the early summer of 1868, some thirty-five years after the events senger. just related, the fjord-valley under the glacier was startled by three shrill shrieks from the passing steamer, the usual signal that a boat was wanted to land some stray pasA couple of boats were pushed out from the beach, and half a dozen men, with red-peaked caps and a certain picturesque nonchalance in their attire, scrambled into them and soon surrounded the gangway of the steamer. First some large trunks and boxes were lowered, showing that the passenger, whoever he might be, was a person of distinction,—an impression which was still further confirmed by the appearance of a tall, dark-skinned man, followed by a woolly headed creature of a truly Satanic complexion, who created a profound sensation among the boatmen. Then the steamer shrieked once more, the echoes began a prolonged game of hide-and-seek among the snow-hooded peaks, and the boats slowly plowed their way over the luminous mirror of fjord. "Is there any farm here, where my servant and myself can find lodgings for the summer?" said the traveler, turning to a young peasant lad. "I should prefer to be as near to the glacier as possible." He spoke Norwegian, with a strong foreign accent, but nevertheless with a correct and distinct enunciation. | superfluity of arms and legs. His features, whatever their ethnological value might be, were, at all events, decidedly handsome; but if they were typical of anything, they told unmistakably that their possessor was a man of culture. They showed none of that barbaric frankness which, like a manufacturer's label, flaunts in the face of all humanity the history of one's origin, race, and nationality. Culture is hostile to type; it humanizes the ferocious jaw-bones of the Celt, blanches the ruddy luster of the AngloSaxon complexion, contracts the abdominal volume of the Teuton, and subdues the extravagant angularities of Brother Jonathan's stature and character. Although respecting this physiognomic reticence on the part of Mr. Fern, we dare not leave the reader in ignorance regarding the circumstances of which he was the unconscious result. 66 After his flight from Norway, Arne Ormgrass had roamed about for several months as a wanderer and a vagabond upon the earth," until, finally, he settled down in New Orleans, where he entered into partnership with a thrifty young Swede, and established a hotel, known as the "Sailors' Valhalla." Fortune favored him: his reckless daring, his ready tongue, and, above all, his extraordinary beauty soon gained him an enviable reputation. Money became abundant, the hotel was torn down and rebuilt with the usual barbaric display of mirrors and upholstery, and the landlords began to aspire for guests of a higher degree. Then, one fine day, a young lady, with a long French name and aristocratic antecedents, fell in love with Arne, not coolly and prudently, as northern damsels do, but with wildly tragic gesticulations and a declamatory ardor that were superb to behold. To the Norseman, however, a passion of this degree of intensity was too novel to be altogether pleasing; he felt awed and bewildered,-standing, as he did, for the first time in his life in the presence of a veritable mystery. By some chance their clandestine meetings were discovered. The lady's brother shot at Arne, who returned the shot with better effect; then followed elopement-marriage-return to the bosom of the family, and a final grand tableau with parental blessing and recon Maurice Fern (for that was the stranger's name) was, as already hinted, a tall, darkcomplexioned man, as yet slightly on the sunny side of thirty, with a straight nose, firm, shapely mouth, which was neither sensual nor over-sensitive, and a pair of clear dark-brown eyes, in which there was a gleam of fervor, showing that he was not altogether incapable of enthusiasm. But for all that, the total impression of his personality was one of clear-headed decisionciliation. and calm energy. He was a man of an absorbing presence, one whom you would have instinctively noticed even in a crowd. He bore himself with that unconscious grace which people are apt to call aristocratic, being apparently never encumbered by any From that time forth, Arne Fern, as he was called (his Norse name having simply been translated into English), was a man of distinction. After the death of his fatherin-law, in 1859, he sold his Louisiana property and emigrated with his wife and three |