Vainly did he look for sympathy there! Hardened, selfish, sinful, they could not even feel for him who had been all too late aroused by the tortures of remorse to a sense of his most awful guilt. It was a vain thing to appeal to them to receive again the silver and let the precious prisoner go free! Oh, what marvel that the wretched man should have shrunk from an existence which he was well assured would never be blessed by one hour free from the maddening tortures of his conscience? What wonder that he hastened from the presence of the fiendish Caiaphas to die before the sentence of condemnation had been passed on the Master whom his treachery had given to the cross? What wonder, reader, that the wretched man perished by his own hands? and can the wildest hoper believe that his was not an eternal death? * * * * * THE BRIDE OF BROEK-IN-WATERLAND. A DUTCH ROMANCE. BY CHARLES P. SHIRAS. One night, when skies were bright and calm, I left my home in Amsterdam; I cast my schuyt from moorings loose And steered across to Wilhelm Sluis: Upon the North Canal I sailed; The wind was fair and never failed. Quoth I: “My prow shall kiss no sand Till I reach Broek-in-Waterland.” Before an hour I saw the town, And soon the tapering mast was down; But ere I left my graceful schuyt I heard the music of a flute; And songs of love and shouts of joy Upon the wind came floating by. Quoth I: “They seem a happy band That dwell in Broek-in-Waterland.” I walked upon a winding street That seemed too clean for mortal feet, Ere long a stranger met my gaze— What joy!—one loved in boyish days! Quoth he: “We revel here to-night, That all may share in my delight, For soon I’ll claim the fairest hand In happy Broek-in-Waterland.” As thus he spoke, we walked along, And soon were mingled in the throng; He vowed, in all a lover’s pride, That I should see his chosen bride, And soon he cried: “Behold her now, Yon maiden of the peerless brow. The richest, claims the fairest hand In happy Broek-in-Waterland!” I looked, and swift as lightning dart A hopeless anguish seized my heart! It once had been my lot to save A maiden from the Zuyder’s wave; I bore her to her friends on shore, And never thought to see her more; Nor did I, till I saw her stand Betrothed in Broek-in-Waterland! But why such grief? for what to me This maiden saved from Zuyder Zee? She knew me not before that day, Scarce saw me ere I turned away. I heard her voice, I saw her face, Yet asked nor name nor dwelling place. Then why this grief to see her stand Betrothed in Broek-in-Waterland?