away as fast as it could to fulfil its orders; but a great long-legged stork, that was stalking along the very road the grasshopper took, seized the poor little thing in its bill, and threw it down into its capacious craw. The failure of these two experiments did not discourage the resolute Emma from trying a third. This time she transformed her turnip into a magpie. “Fly, prattling bird,” she said; “flutter on from tree to tree, till thou shalt find my affianced Ratibor; tell him of my captivity; tell him in three days from this to await me with horse and man on the borders of the mountain, in the Maienthal, in readiness to carry off the fugitive, who hopes by that time to have broken her chains.” The mottled messenger departed, fluttering from one resting place to another, Emma anxiously watching its flight till out of sight.
Ratibor, a prey to grief, still wandered amid the solitary woods; the return of spring, the revivification of nature, had naught alleviated his woe. Seated in the shade of a tufted oak, he thought of his lost Princess, and softly breathed her name; the beloved accents were repeated by many-tongued Echo. At the same moment, an unknown voice called out, “Ratibor!” The Prince, amazed, looked round, listened, and seeing no one, hearing nothing, concluded he had been mistaken; when the same strange voice repeated, “Ratibor! Ratibor!” Here-
