Come to me to-day as soon as you can, upon the wings of our poet-friendship. Countess Dolores went yesterday, with her little daughters, and her servants; but she left something for you which will make you happy, and which I myself will place in your hand. The following is the first delicate and downy fruit of our union of souls: HYMEN MYSTICUM To Little Johannes In solemn state swim our two souls, Like night-black, mystic swans. O'er passion-seas profoundly deep-- Of briny, melancholy tears. Oh! Thou supremely bitter ocean! All wingless, bear we with us, thro' the sky's dark courses, Thy ceaseless, lily-sorrow-- And the fell weight of this sad world's woe. Entwine with mine thy slender throat, my brother, That, swooning, we may farther swim, And with our song the dazzled race amaze. Let us, in sensuous tenderness, Like faded lilies intertwine, With a death-sob of supremest ecstasy. Would not your friend be able to compose music for this? And I hope soon to know her better. Your soul's kinsman, Walter v. L. T. D. _Kurhotel_,8th Sept. (Van Lieverlee tot Endegeest). Just here, I wish I could say that Johannes immediately let Marjon read both the letter and the verses, and that, with her, he made merry over them. But that, alas! the truth will not permit. And now, for the sake of my small hero, I confess I should be heartily ashamed if I thought that none of you, in reading the above, would be as ingenuous as he was, in regarding the poem with the utmost seriousness--even hesitating, like himself, to doubt its quality, concluding that it must indeed be fine though a little too high for understanding, and, for that very reason, not at first sight so very striking and intelligible. Are you certain that none of you would have been so stupid as to be deceived by it? Quite certain? Well, then, please do not forget how youthful Johannes still was; and consider, also, the wonderful progress of the age, due, no doubt, to the zealous and untiring efforts of our numerous literary critics. Johannes did not mention the letter; but when he saw Marjon, he said: "I saw somebody, yesterday. Can you think who it was?" Marjon's pale, dull face lighted up suddenly, and she stared at Johannes with fixed, bright eyes. "Markus!" said she. Johannes nodded assent, and she continued: "Thank God! I felt it. I heard that the laborers about here were soon to go on a strike, and then I supposed-well--Now everything will be all right again!" Then she was silent, eating her bread contentedly. A little later, she asked: "Where are you going? Is it far? What have you agreed to do?" "I have settled nothing," said Johannes. "But I will go to him with you before long. It is not far." Then, affecting to make light of it, he said: "I have had an invitation to the hotel."