The native American., 1838-02-24
From the Lady's Book.
THE SEXTON OF COLOGNE.

In the year ., there lived at Cologne rich
burgomaster, whose wife Adelaide, then in the
prime of her youth and beauty, fell sick and died.
They had lived very happily together, and,
throughout her fatal illness, the doating husband
scarcely quilted her bedside for an instant. Du-
ring the latter period of her Sickness she did not
suffer greatly; but the fainting fits grew and
frequent, and of increasing duration, till at
length they became incessant, and she finally sank
under them.
It is well known that Cologne is city which,
as far as respects religion, may compare itself
with Rome; on which account it was called, even
in the middle ages, Roma Gernsa,aica, and some
times the Sacred Ciiy. 1t seemed as if in after
times it wished to compensate by piety, the mis-
fortune Of having been the birthplace of the abo-
minable Aggrippina. For many years nothing
else was but priests, students, and mendicant
monks; while the bells were ringing and tolling
from morning till night. Even now you may
count in it as many churches and cloisters as the
year has days.
The principal church is the cathedral of ST.
Peter-one Of the handsomest buildings in all
Germany, though still not SO complete as it was
probably intended by the architect. The choir
alone is arched. The chief altar is single block
Of black marble, brought along the line to CO.
logne, from Namur upon the Mas. In the sa-
cristy an ivory rod is shown, said to have belong
ed to the Apostle Peter; and in chapel stands a
gilded coffin, with the names Of the holy Three
Kings inscribed. Their skulls are visible through
an opening-two being white, as belonging to
Caspar and Baltesar-the third black, for Melchir.
1t is easy to be understood that these remarkable
relics, rendered sacred by time make deep i'm
preston on the imagination of the Catholics; and
that the three skulls, with their jewels and silver
setting, are convincing proofs Of genuineness, to
religious feelings-though glance at history is
sufficient to show their spuriousness.
1t was in this church that Adelaide was buried
with great splendor. In the spirit of that age,
which had more feeling for the solid than real
taste-more devotion and confidence than unbe-
lieving fear-she was dressed as bride in flow
cred silk, motley garland upon her head, and
her pale fingers covered with costly rings; in
which state she was conveyed to the vault Of a
little chapel, directly under the choir, in coffin
with glass windows. Many of her forefathers
were already resting here, all embalmed, and with
their mummy forms, offering strange contrast
to the silver and gold with which they were de-
corated, and teaching, in peculiar fashion, the
difference between the perishable and the lmpe-
rishable. The custom of embalming was, in the
present instance, given up; the place was full;
and, where Adelaide was buried, it settled
ture.
With heavy heart had Adolph followed his
wife to her final resting-place. The turret-bells,
of two hundred and twenty hundred weight lifted
up their deep voices, and spread the sounds Of
mourning through the wide city; while the monks,
carrying tapers and scattering incense, sang re-
QUEENS from their huge vellom folios, which were
spread upon the music-desks in the choir. But
the service was now over; the dead lay alone with
the dead; the immense clock, which is only
wound up once a-year, and shows the course of
the planets, as well the hours of the day, was
the only thing that had sound or motion in the
whole cathedral. Its monotonous ticking seemed
to mock the silent grave.
1t was stormy November evening, when Pc
ter Bolt, the sexton of ST. Peters, was returning
home after this splendid funeral The poor man
who had been married four years, had one child
daughter, which his wife brought him in the
second year of their marriage, and was again ex-
pecting her confinement 1t was, therefore, with
heavy heart that he had left the church for his
cottage, which lay damp and cold on the banks of
river, and which, at this dull season, looked
more gloomy than ever. AT the door he was met
by the little Maria, who called out with great de-
light, 8 on must not 60 up stairs, father; the
stork has been here, and brought Maria little
brother!''--a piece of information more expected
than agreeable, and which was soon after confirm
ed by the appearance of his sister-in-law with a
healthy infant in her arms. His wife, however,
had suffered much, and was in state that requi-
red assistance far beyond his means to supply In
this distress he bcthought himself Of the Jew,
Isaac, who had lately advanced him a trihe on his
old silver watch; but now, unfortunately, he had
nothing more to pledge and was forced to ground
all his hopes on the Jews compasson--a very
unsafe anchorage. With doubtful steps he sought
the house of the miser, and told his tale amidst
tears and sghs; TO all of which Isaac listened with
great patence--so much so, indeed, that Bolt be-
gan to Hatter himself with favorable answer to
his petition. But he was disappointed the Jew,
having heard him out, coolly replied, g that he
could lend no monish on chd--it was no good
pledge"
With bitter execrations on the usurer's hard
heartedness, poor Boltrushed from his door; when,
to aggravate his situation, the first snow OF the
season began to fall; and that so thick and fast,
that, in very short time, the house-top presented
asinge field of white. Immersed in his grief, he
missed his way across the marketplace, and,
when he least expected such thing, found him
selfin the front Of the cathedral The great clock