THE HEIDENMAUER; o0, THE BEN EDICTINES. A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. BY J. FENIMORE COOPER. " From mighty wrongs to petty perfidy, lave I not seen what human things could do." COMPLETE IN ONE V0LUMMI. NEW EDITION. NEW YORK: PUBLISHED BY HURD AND HOUGHTON. .EI T D ENM A UER Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1882, by CABE L AM LEA, in the Clerk's (ffice of the District Court of the Eastern District cd Pennsylqr' INTRODUCTION. a I shall crave your forbearance a little; may be, I will call upon you %non, for some advantage to yourself" Measure Measurefor Measure. CONTRARY to a long-established usage, a summer had been passed within the walls of a large town; but, the moment of liberation arrived, the bird does not quit its cage with greater pleasure, than that with which post-horses were commanded We were four in a light travelling caleche, which strong Nor man cattle transported merrily towards their native province For a time we quitted Paris, the queen of modern cities, with its tumults and its order; its palaces and its lanes; its elegance and its filth; its restless inhabitants and its stationary politicians; its theories and its practices; its riches and sls pnverty; its gay and its sorrowful; its rentiers and its patriots; its young liberals and its old illiberals; its three estates and its equality; its delicacy of speech and its strength of conduct; its government of the people and its people of no gov ernxnent; its bayonets and its moral force; its science and its ignorance; its amusements and its revolutions; its resistance that goes backward, and its movement that stands still; its milliners, its philosophers, its opera-dancers, its poets, its fiddlers, its bankers, and its cooks. Although so long enthralled within the barriers, it was not easy to quit Paris, en-.tirely without regret-Paris, which every stranger censures and every stranger seeks; which moralists abhor and imitate; which causes the heads of the old to shake, and the hearts of the young to beat;-Paris, the centre of so much that is excellent, and of so much that cannot be named! That night we laid our heads on rustic pillows, far from. the French capital. The succeeding day we snuffed tne air of the sea. Passing through Artois and French Flanders, on the fifth morning we entered the new kingdom of Belgium, by the historical' and'respectable towns of DIouai, and Tournai, and,u.. Vi INTRODUCTION TO Ath. At every step we met the flag which flutters over the pavilion of the Thuileries, and recognized the confident air and swinging gait of French soldiers. They had just been employed in propping the crumbling throne of the house of Saxe. To us they seemed as much at home as when they lounged on the Quai d'Orsay. There was still abundant evidence visible at Brussels, of the fierce nature of the struggle that had expelled the Dutch. Forty-six shells were sticking in the side of a single building of no great size, while ninety-three grape-shot were buried in one of its pilasters! In our own rooms, too, there were fearful signs of war. The mirrors were in fragments, the walls broken by langrage, the wood-work of the beds was pierced by shot, and the furniture was marked by rude encounters. The trees of the park were mutilated in a thousand places, and one of the little Cupids, that we had left laughing above the principal gate three years before, was now maimed and melancholy, whilst its companion had altogether taken flight on the wings of a cannon-ball. Tnough dwelling in the very centre of so many hostile vestiges, we happily escaped the sight of human blood; for we understood from the obliging Swiss who presides over the hotel, that his cellars, at all times in repute, were in more than usual request during the siege. From so much proof we were left to infer, that the Belgians had made stout battle for their emancipation, one sign at least that they merited to be free. Our road lay by Louvain, Thirlemont, Liege, Aix-la-Chapelle, and Juliers, to the Rhine. The former of these towns had been the scene of a contest between the hostile armies, the preceding week. As the Dutch had been accused of ulnusual excesses in their advance, we looked out for the signs. How many of these marks had been already obliterated, we could not well ascertain; but those which were still visible rave us reason to think that the invaders did not merit all the opprobrium they had received. Each hour, as life advances. am I made to see how capricious and vulgar is the immortality conferred by a newspaper! It would be injustice to the ancient Bishopric of Liege to nass its beautiffil scenery without a comment. The cotuntryv THE HEIDENMAUER, VI] possesses nearly every requisite for the milder and more rurai sort of la.ndscape;-isolated and innumerable farm-houses, herds in the fields, living hedges, a waving surface, and a ver. dure to rival the emerald. By a happy accident, the road runs for miles on an elevated ridge, enabling the traveller to enjoy these beauties at his ease. At Aix-la-Chapelle we bathed, visited the relics, saw the scene of so many coronations of emperors of more or less re nown, sat in the chair of Charlemagne, and went our way. The Rhine was an old acquaintance. A few years earlier, I had stood upon the sands, at Katwyck, and watched its periodical flow into the North Sea, by means of sluices made in the short r eign of the good King Louis, and, the same summer, I had bestrode it, a brawling brook, on the icy side of St. Gothard. We had come now to look at its beauties in its mnost beautiful part, and to compare them, so far as native partiality might permit, with the well-established claims of our own Hudson. Quitting Cologne, its exquisite but -incomplete cathedral, with the crane that has been poised on its unfinished towers five hundred years, its recollections of Rubens and his royal patroness, we travelled up the stream so leisurely as to examine all that offered, and yet so fast as to avoid the hazard of satiety. Here we met Prussian soldiers, preparing, by mimic service, for the more serious duties of their calling. Lancers wero galloping, in bodies, across the open fields; videttes were posted, the cocked pistol in hand, at every hay-stack; while couriers rode, under the spur, from point to point, as if the great strife, which is so menacingly preparing, and which sooner or later must come, had actually commenced. As Europe is now a camp, these hackneyed sights scarce drew a look aside. We were in quest of the interest which nature, in her happier humors, bestows. there were ruined castles, by scores; gray fortresses; abbeys, some deserted and others yet tenanted; villages and'owns; the seven mountains; cliffs and vineyards. At every step we felt how intimate is the association between the poetry of Nature and that of art; between the hill-side with its fallinll turret, and the moral feeling that lends them interest. iAi tSINTRODUCTION TO Here was an island, of no particular excellence, but the wall~ of a convent of the middle ages crumbled on its surface. There was a naked rock, destitute of grandeur, and wanting in those tints which milder climates bestow, but a baronial hold tottered on its apex. Here Casar led his legions to the stream, and there Napoleon threw his corps d'armle on the hostile bank; this monument was to Hoche, and from that terrace the great Adolphus directed his battalions. Time is wanting to mellow the view of our own historical sites; for the sympathy that can be accumulated only by the general consent of mankind, has not yet clothed them with the indefinable colors of distance and convention. In the mood likely to be created by a flood of such recollections, we pursued our way along the southern margin of this great artery of central Europe. We wondered at the vastness of the Rheinfels, admired the rare jewel of the ruined church at Baccarach, and marvelled at the giddy precipice on which a prince of Prussia even now dwells, in the eaglelike grandeur and security of the olden time. On reaching Mayence, the evening of the second day, we deliberately and, as we hoped, impartially compared what had just been seen, with that which is so well and so affectionately remembered. I had been familiar with the Hudson from childhood. The great thoroughfare of all who journey from the interior of the state towards the sea, necessity had early made me acquainted with its windings, its promontories, its islands, its cities, and its villages. Even its hidden channels had been professionally examined, and time was when there did not stand an unknown seat on its banks, or a hamlet that had not been visited. Here then was the force of deep impressions to oppose to the influence of objects still visible. To me i is quite apparent that the Rhine, while it frequently possesses more of any particular species of scenery, within a given number of miles, than the Hudson, has none of so great excellence. It wants the variety, the noble beauty, and the broad grandeur of the American stream. The latter, within the distance universally admitted to contain the finest parts of the Rhine, is both a large and a small river; it has its bays, Its narrow passages amono the meadows, its frowning gorges, THE HEIDENMAUER. IX and its reaches resembling Italian lakes; whereas the most that can be said of its European competitor, is that all these wonderful peculiarities are feebly imitated. Ten degrees of a lower latitude supply richer tints, brighter transitions of light and shadow, and more glorious changes of the atmosphere, to embellish the beauties of our western clime. In islands, too, the advantage is with the Hudson, for, while those of the Rhine are the most numerous, those of the former stream are bolder, betfer placed, and, in every natural feature, of more account. When the comparison between these celebrated rivers is extended to their artificial accessories, the result becomes more doubtful. The buildings of the older towns and villages of Europe seem grouped especially for effect, as seen in the distant view, though -security was in truth the cause, while the spacious, cleanly, and cheerful villages of America must commonly be entered, to be appreciated. In the other hemisphere, the maze of roofs, the church-towers, the irregular faces of wall, and frequently the castle rising to a pinnacle in the rear, grive a town the appearance of some vast and antiquated pile devoted to a single object. Perhaps the boroughs of the Rhine have less of this picturesque, or landscape effect, than the villages of France and Italy, for the Germans regard space more than their neighbors, but still are they less commonplace than the smiling and, thriving little marts that crowd the borders of the Hudson. To this advantage must be added that which is derived from the countless ruins, and a crowd of recollections. Here, the superiority of the artificial auxiliaries o.f the Rhine ceases, and those of her rival come into the ascendant. In modern abodes, in villas, and even in seats, those of princes alone excepted, the banks of the Hudson have scarnely an equal in any region. There are finez and nobler edifices on the Brenta, and in other favored spots, certainly, but I know no stream that has so many that please and attract the eye. As applied to moving objects, an important feature ijh this comparison, the Hudson has perhaps no rival, in any fiver that can pretend to a picturesque character. In numbers, tn variety of rig, in beauty of form, in swiftness and dexterity.f handling, and in general grace and movement, this extra INTRODUCTION TO ordinary passage ranks amongst the first of the world. The yards of tall ships swing among the rocks and forests of the hiighlands, while sloop, schooner, and bright canopied steam-boat, yacht, periagua, and canoe are seen in countless numbers, decking its waters. There is one more eloquent point of difference that should not be neglected. Drawings and engravings of the Rhine lend their usual advantages, softening, and frequently rendering beautiful, objects of no striking attractions when seen as they exist; while every similar attempt to represent the Hudson, at once strikes the eye as unworthy of its original. Nature is fruitful of fine effects in every region, and it is a mistake not to enjoy her gifts, as we move through life, on account of some fancied superiority in this, or that, quarter of the world. We left the Rhine, therefore, with regret, for, in'its way, a lovelier stream can scarce be found. At Mayence we crossed to the right bank of the river, and passing by the Duchies of Nassau and Darmstadt, entered that of Baden, at Heidelberg. Here we sat upon the Tun, examined the castle, and strolled in the alleys of the remarkable garden. Thence we proceeded to Manheim, turning our faces, once more, towards the French capital. The illness of one of the party compelled us to remain a few hours in the latter city, which presented little for reflection, unless it were that this, like one or two other towns we had lately seen, served to convince us, that the symmetry and regularity which render large cities magnificent, cause those that are small to appear mean. It was a bright autumnal day when we returned to the left bank of the Rhine, on the way to Paris. The wishes of the invalid had taken the appearance of strength, and we hoped to penetrate the mountains which bound the Palatinate on its south-western side, and to reach Kaiserslautern, on the great Napoleon road, before the hour of rest. The main object hat been accomplished, and, as with all who have effected their purpose, the principal desire was to be at home. A few posts convinced us that repose was still necessary to the invalid. This conviction, unhappily as I then believed, came too late, For we had already crossed the plain of the Palatinate, and were drawing near to the chain of mountains just mentioned THIt HEIDENMAUER. Xi which are a branch of the Vosges, and are known in the country as the Haart. We had made no calculations for such an event, and former experience had caused us to distrust the inns of this isolated portion of the kingdom of Bavaria. I was just bitterly regretting our precipitation, when the churchtower of Duerckheim peered above the vineyards; for, on getting nearer to the base of the hills, the land became slightly undulating, and the vine abundant. As we approached, the village or borough promised little, but we had the word of the postilion that the post-house was an inn fit for a king; and as to the wine, he could give no higher eulogium than a flourish of the whip, an eloquent expression of pleasure for a German of his class. We debated the question of proceeding, or of stopping, in a good deal of doubt, to the moment wnen the carriage drew up before the sign of the Ox. A substantial looking burgher came forth to receive us: There was the pledge of good cheer in the ample development of his person, which was not badly typified by the sign, and the hale hearty character of his hospitality removed all suspicion of the hour of reckoning. If he who travels much is a gainer in knowledge of mankind, he is sure to be a loser in the charities that sweeten life. Constant intercourse with men who are in the habit of seeing strange faces, who only dispose of their services to those that are likely never to need them again, and who, of necessity, are removed from most of the responsibilities and affinities of a more permanent intercourse, exhibits the selfishness of our nature in its least attractive form. Policy may suzgest a specious blandishment of air, to conceal the ordinary design on the pocket of the stranger; but it is in the nature of things that the design should exist. The passion of gain, like all other passions, increases with indulgence; and.hus do we find those who dwell on beaten roads more rapacious than those in whom the desire* is latent, for want of ase. Our host of Duerckheim offered a pledge, in his honest countenance, independent air, and frank mariner, of. his also being above the usual mercenary schemes of another portion )f the craft, who, dwelling in places of little resort, endeavor to take their revenge of fortune, by showing that they loolf INTRODUCTION TO upon every post-carriage as an especial God-send. He had a garden, too, into which he invited us to enter, while the horses were changing, in a way that showed he was simply desirous of being benevolent, and that he cared little whether we staid an hour or a week. In short, his manner was of an artless, kind, natural, and winning character, that strongly reminded us of home, and which at once established an agreeable confi. dence that is of an invaluable moral effect. Though too ex. perienced blindly to confide in national characteristics, we liked, too, his appearance of German faith, and more than all were we pleased with the German neatness and comfort, of which there were abundance, unalloyed by the swaggering pretension that neutralizes the same qualities among people more artificial. The house was not a beer-drinking, smoking caravanserai, like many hotels in that quarter of the world, but it had detached pavilions in the gardens, in which the wearied traveller might, in sooth, take his rest. With such inducements before our eyes, we determined to remain, and we were not long in instructing the honest burgher to. that effect. The decision was received with great civility, and, unlike the immortal FalstafF, I began to see the prospects of taking " minei ease in mine inn" without having a pocket picked. The carriage was soon housed; and the baggage in the chambers. Notwithstanding the people of the house spoke confidently, but with sufficient modesty, of the state of the larder, it wanted several hours, agreeably to our habits, to the time of dinner, though we had enjoyed frequent opportunities of remarking that in Germany a meal is never unseasonable. Disregarding hints, which appeared more suggested by humanity than the love of gain, our' usual hour for eating was named, and, by way of changing the subject, I asked,"Did I not see some ruins, on the adjoining mountain, as we entered the village 1" " We call Duerckheim a city, mein Herr," rejoined our hosi of the Ox; "'though none of the largest, the time has been when it was a capital!" E Here the worthy burgher munched his pipe and chuckled, for he was a man that had heard of such places as London, and THE: hIMDENMAUER. Xiii Paris, and Pekin, and Naples, and St. Petersburg, or, haply, of the Federal City itself. "A capital!-it was the abode of one of the smaller Princes, suppose; of what family was your sovereign, pray?" "You are right, mein Herr. Duerckheim, before the French revolution, was a residence (for so the political capitals are called in Germany), and it belonged to the princes of Leiningen, who had a palace on the other side of the city (the place may be about half as large as Hudson, or Schenectady), which was burnt in the war. After the late wars, the sovereign was mediatist, receiving an indemnity in estates on the other side of the Rhine." As this term of merdiatise has no direct synonyme in English, it may be well to explain its signification. Germany, as well as most of Europe, was formerly divided into a countless number of petty sovereignties, based on the principle of feudal power. As accident, or talent, or alliances, or treachery advanced, the interests of the stronger of these princes, their weaker neighbors began to disappear altogether, or to take new and subordinate stations in the social scale. In this lhanner has France been gradually composed of its original, but comparatively insignificant kingdom, buttressed, as it now is, by Brittany, and Burgundy, and Navarre, and Dauphiny, and Provence, and Normandy, with many other states; and, in like manner has England been formed of the Heptarchy. The confederative system of Germany has continued more or less of this feudal organization to our own times. The formation of the empires of Austria and Prussia has, however, swallowed up many of these principalities, and the changes produced by the policy of Napoleon gave the death-blow, without distinction, to all in the immediate vicinity of the Rhine. Of the latter number were the Princes of Leiningen, whose possessions were originally included in the French republic, then in the enmpire, and have since passed under the sway of the King of Bavaria, who, as the legitimate heir of the neighboring Duchy of Deux Ponts, had a nucleus of sufficient magnitude in this portion of Germany, to induce the congress of Vienna to add to his, domiinions; their object being to erect a barrier against the futfire B gA1V INTRODUCTION TO aggrandizement'f France. As the dispossessed sovereigns are permitted to retain their conventional rank, supplying wives and husbands, at need, to the reigning branches of the different princely families, the term mrediatisd has been aptly enough applied to their situation. "The young prince was here, no later than last week," continued our host of the Ox; "'he lodged in that pavilion, where he passed several days. You know that he is a son of the Duchess of Kent, and half-brother to the young princess who is likely, one day, to be queen of England." " Has he estates here, or is he still, in any way, connected with your government?" " All they have given him is in money, or on the other side of the Rhine. He went to see the ruins of' the old castle; for he had a natural curiosity to look at a place which his ancestors had built." "It was the ruins of the castle of Leiningen, then, that 1 saw on the mountain, as we entered the town?" " No, mein Herr. You saw the ruins of the Abbey of Limburg; those of Hartenburg, for so the castle was called, lihe farther back among the hills." "; What! a ruined abbey, and a ruined castle, too!-Here is sufficient occupation for the rest of the day. An abbey and a castle!" "And the Heidenmauer, and the Teufelstein." "Hw! a Pagan's wall, and a Devil's stone! —You are ric.h in curiosities!" The host continued to smoke on philosophically. "Have you a guide who can take me, by the shortest way to these places?" "Any child can do that." "But one who can speak French is desirable —for my Germlan is far from being classical." The worthy inn-keeper nodded his head. " Here is one Christian Kinzel," he rejoined, after a moment of thought, "6 a tailor who has not much custom, and who has ived a little in France; he may serve your turn." I'suggested that a tailor might find it healthful to stretch his inee-joints. THE HEIDENMAULER. XV The host of the Ox was amused with the conceit, and he fairly removed the' pipe, in order to laugh at his ease. His mirth was hearty, like that of a man without guile. TLe affair was soon arranged. A messenger was sent for Christian Kinzel, and taking my little male travelling companion by the hand, I went leisurely ahead, expecting the appearance of the guide. But, as the reader will have much to do with the place about to be described, it may be desirable that he should possess an accurate knowledge of its locality. Duerckheim lies in that part of Bavaria, which is commonly called the circle of the Rhine. The king, of the country named, may have less than half a million of subjects in this detached part of his territories, which extends in one course from the river to Rhenish Prussia, and in the other from Darmnstadt to France. It requires a day of hard posting to traverse this province in any direction, from which it would appear that its surface is about equal to two-thirds of tha'. of Connecticut. A line of mountains, resembling the smaller spurs of the Alleghanies, and which are known by different local names, but which are a branch of the Vosges, passes nearly through the centre of the district, in a north and south course. These mountains cease abruptly on their eastern side, leaving between them and the river, a vast level surface, of that description which is called " flats," or " bottom land " in America. This plain, part of the ancient Palatinate, extends equally on the other side of the Rhine, terminating as abruptly on the eastern as on the western border. In an air line, the distance between Heidelberg and Duerckheim, which lie opposite to each other on the two lateral extremities of the plain, may a little ex ceed twenty miles, the Rhine running equi-distant from both. There is a plausible theory, which says that the plain of the Palatinate was formerly a lake, receiving the waters of the Rhine, and of course discharging them by some inferior outlet, mntil time, or a convulsion of the earth, broke through the barrier of the mountains at Bingen, draining off the waters, and leaving the fertile bottom described. Irregular sand-hills were visible,. as we approached Duerckheim, which may go to confirm this supposition, for the prevalence of northerly winds milght easily have cast more of these light particles on the XVi INTRODUCTION TO south-western than on the opposite shore. By adding that the eastern face of the mountains, or that next'to the plain, is sufficiently broken and irregular to be beautiful, while it is always distinctly marked and definite, enough has been said to enable us to proceed with intelligence. It would appear that one of the passes that has conmnunicated, from time immemorial, between the Rhine and the country west of the Vosges, issues on the plain through the gorge near Duerckheim. By following the windings of the valleys; the post-road penetrates, by an easy ascent, to the higheal: ridge, and following the water-courses that run into the Moselie, descends nearly as gradually into the Duchy of Deux Ponts, on the other side of the chain. The possession of this pass, therefore, in the ages of lawlessness and violence, was, in itself, a title to distinction and power; since all who journeyed by it, lay in person and effects more or less at the mercy of the occupant. On quitting the town, my little companion and myself immediately entered the gorge. The pass itself was narrow, but a valley soon opened to the width of a mile, out of which issued two or three passages, besides that by which we had entered, though only one of them preserved its character for any distance. The capacity of this valley, or basin, as it must have been when the Palatinate was a lake, is much curtailed by an insulated mountain, whose base, covering a fourth of the area, stands in its very centre, and which doubtless was an island when the valley was a secluded bay. The summit of this mountain or island-hill is level, of an irregularly oval form, and contains some six or eight acres of land. Here stand the ruins of Limburg, the immediate object of our visit.' The ascent was exceedingly rapid, and of several hundred feet; reddish free-stone appeared everywhere through the ocanty soil, the sun beat powerfully on the rocks; and I was beginning to weigh the advantages and disadvantages of proceeding, when the tailor approached, with the zeal of new-born courage. "Voici Christian Kinzel!" exclaimed -, to whom novelty was always an incentive, and who, in his young life, had eagerly mounted Alp and Apennine, Jura and Calabrian hill TlE HEIDEISMAUER. XVII tower, monument, and dome, or whatever else served to raise him in the air; "6 Allons, —grimpons!" We scrambled up the hill-side, and, winding among terraces oon which the vine and vegetables were growuing, soon reached the natural platform. There was a noble view Irom the summit, but it would be premature to describe it here. The whole s;urface of the hill furnished evidence of the formner extent of tile Abbey, a wall having encircled the enti'e place; but the principal edifices had been built, and still remained, near the longitudinal centre, on the very margin of the eastern precipice. Enough was standing to prove the ancient magnificence of the structure. Unlike most of the ruins which border the RIhine, the masonry was of a workmanlike kind, the walls being not only massive, but composed of the sand-stone just mentioned neatly hewn, for immense strata of the material exist in all this region. I traced the chapel, still in tolerable preservation, the refectory, that never-failing solacer of monastic seelusion, several edifices apparently appropriated to the dormitories, and some vestiges of the cloisters. Thei'e is also a giddy tower, of an ecclesiastical form, that sufficiently serves to give a character to the ruins. It A as closed, to prevent idlers from incurring foolish risks by mounting the crazy steps; but its having formerly been appropriated to the consecrated bells, was not at all doubtful. There is also a noble arch near, with several of Its disjointed stones menacing the head of him who ventures beneath. * Turning from the ruin, I cast a look at the surro pding valley. Nothing could have been softer or more lovely than the near view. That sort of necessity, which induces us to cherish any stinted gift, had led the inhabitants to turn every foot of the bottom land to the best account. No Swiss Alp could have been more closely shaved than the meadows at my feet, and a good deal had been made of two or three rivulets that meandered among them. The dam of a rustic mill threw back the water into a miniature lake, and some zealous admirer of Neptune had establrished a beer-house on its banks, which was dignified with the sign of the "Anchor!" But the principal object in the interior or upland view, was the ruins of a castle, that occupied a natural terrace, or rather the projection of e B 2 XViII INTRODUCrTIO N T O rock, against the side of one of the nearest mountains. The road passed immediately beneath its walls, a short arrow-flight from the battlements, the position having evidently been choser. as the one best adapted to command the ordinary route of tlke traveller. I wanted no explanation from the guide to know that this was the castle of Hartenburg. It was still more massive than the remains of the Abbey, built of the same material, and seemingly in different centuries; for while one part was irregular and rud6, like most of the structures of the mliddle ages, there were salient towers filled with embrasures, for -the use of-artillery. One of their guns, well elevated, might possibly have thrown its shot on the platform of the Abbey-hill, but with little danger even to the ruined walls. After studying the different objects in this novel and charming scene, for an hour, I demanded of the guide some account of the Paoan's Wall and of the Devil's Stone. Both were on the mountain that lay on the other side of the ambitious little lake, a long inusket-shot from the Abbey. It was even possible to see a portion of the former, fiom our present stand; and the confiused account of the tailor only excited a desire to see more. WVe had not come on this excursion without a lit supply of road-books and mnaps. One of the fbrmer was accidentally in my pocket, though so little had we expected.anything extraordinary on thkis unfrequented road, that as yet it had not been opened. On consulting its pages now, I was agreeably disappointed in finding that Duerokheim and its antiquities had not been thq.'llt unworthy of the traveller's especial attention. The Pagan's Wall was there stated to be the spot in which Attila passed the winter before crossing the Rhine, in his celebra ted inroad against the capital of the civilized world,'though its origin was referred to his enemies themselves. In short, it was believed to be the remains of a Roman camp, one of those advanced works of the empire, by which the Barbarians were held in check, and of which the Hun had casually and prudently availed himself, in his progress south. The Devil's Stone was described as a natural rock, in the viciality of the encamlp nent, on which the Pa.gans had offered sacrifices. Of course lie liberated limbs of the guide were put in requisition, to con, THE FmEIDENMAUER. XiX duct us to a spot that contained curiosities so worthy of even his exertions. As we descended the mountain of Limburg, Christian Kinzei lighted the way, by relating the opinions of the country, concerning the places we had seen and were about to see. It would appear by this legend, that when the pious monks were planning their monastery, a compact was made with the Devi. to quarry the stones necessary for so extensive a work, and to transport them up the steep acclivity. The inducemenv held forth to the evil spirit, for undertaking a work of this nature, was the pretence of erecting a tavern, in winch, doubtless, undue quantities of Rhenish wine were to be quaffed, cheating human reason, and leaving the undefended soul.more exposed to the usual assaults of temptation. It would seem, by the legends of the Rhine, that the monks often succeeded in outwitting' the arch foe in this sort of compact, though perhaps never with more signal success than in the bargain in question. Completely deceived by the artifices of the men of God, the father of sin lent himself to the project with so much zeal, that the Abbey and its appendages were completed in a time incredibly short; a circumstance that his employers took good care to turn to account, after their own fashion, by ascribing it to a miracle of purer emanation. By all accounts the deception was so well managed, that notwithstanding his proverbial cunning, the Devil never knew the true destination of the edifice until the Abbey-bell actually rang for prayers. Then, indeed, his indignation knew no bounds, and he proceeded forthwith to the rock in question, with the fell intent of bringing it into the air above the chapel, and, by its fall, of immolating the monks and their altar together, to his vengeance. But the stone was too firmly rooted to be displaced even by the Devil; and he was finally compelled, by the prayers of the devotees, who were now, after their own fashion of fighting, ffairly in the field, to abandon this portion of the country in shame and disgrace. The curious are shown certain marks on the rock, which go to prove the violent efforts of Satan, on this occasion, and among others the prints of his form, left by seating himself on the stone, fatigued by useless exertions. The more ingenious even trace, in a sort of groove, evidence of the INTRODI CTION TO position of his tail, during the time the baffled spirit v as chew. ing the cud of chagrin on his hard stool. We were at the foot of the second mountain when Chris. tian Kinzel ended this explanation. "And such is your Deurckheim tradition concerning the DI)evil's Stone l" I iemarked, measuring the ascent with the sight. "Such is what is said in the country, mein Herr," returned the tailor; "but there are people, hereabouts, who do not be-' [ive it." -. - My little travelling companion laughed, and his eyes danced with expectation. ~ "Allons, grimpons!" he cried again-" Allons voir ce Teufilstein!" In a suitable time we were in the camp. It lay on an advanced spur of the mountain, a sort of salient bastion made by nature, and was completely protected on every side, but that at which it was joined to the mass, by declivities so steep as to be even descended with some pain. There was the ruin of a circular wall, half a league in extent, the stones lying in a confused pile around the whole exterior, and many vestiges of foundations and intersecting walls within. The whole area was covered with a young growth of dark and melancholy cedars. On the face exposed to the adjoining mountain, there hlad evidently been the additional protection of a ditch. The Teufelstein was a thousand feet from the camp. It is a weatherrworn rock, that shows its bare head from a high point in the more advanced ranges of the hills. I took a seat on, its most elevated pinnacle, and for a moment the pain of the ascent was forgotten. The plain of the Palatinate, far as eye could reach, lay in the view. Here and there the Rhine and the Neckar glittered. like sheets of silver, among the verdure of the fields, and tower of city and of town, of Manheim, Spires, and Worms, of nameless villages, and of German residences, were as plenty in the scene, as tombs upon the Appian Way. A dozen gray ruins clung against the sides of the mountains of Baden and Darmstadt, while the castle of Heidelberg was visible, in its romantic glen, sombre, courtly, and magnificent. The land THE HEIDENNIA1UER. XXi scape was German, and in its artificial parts slightly Gothic; it wanted the warm glow, the capricious outlines, and seductive beauty of Italy, and the grandeur of the Swiss valleys and glaciers; but it was the perfection of fertility and industry embellished by a crowd of useful objects. It was easy for one thus placed, to fancy himself surrounded by so many eloquent memorials of the progress of civilization, of the infirmities and constitution, of the growth and ambition of the human mind. The reck recalled the age of furious superstition and debased ignorance-the time when the country lay in forest, over which the hunter ranged at will, contending with the beast for the mastery of his savage domain. Still the noble creature bore the image of God, and occasionally some master mind pierced the shades, catching glimpses of that eternal truth which pervades Nature. Then followed the Roman, with his gods of plausible attributes, his ingenious and specious philosophy, his accumulated and borrowed art, his concerted and overwhelming action, his love of magnificence, so grand in its effects, but so sordid and unjust in its means, and last, the most impressive of all, that beacon-like ambition which wrecked his hopes on the sea of its vastness, with the evidence of the falsity of his system as furnished in his fall. The memorial before me showed the means by which he gained and lost his power. The Barbarian had been taught, in the bitter school-of experience, to regain his rights, and in the excitement of the moment, it was not difficult to imagine the Huns pouring into the camp, and calculating their chances of success, by the vestiges they found of the ingenuity and resources of their foes. The confusion of misty images that succeeded was an apt emblem of the next age. Out of this obscurity, after the long and glorious reign of Charlemagne, arose the baronial castle, with feudal violence and its progeny of wrongs. Then came the abbey, an excrescence of that mild and suffering religion; which had appeared on earth, like a ray of the sun, eclipsing the factitious brilliancy of a scene from which natural ligh, had been excluded for a substitute of a meretricious and deceptive quality. Here arose the long and selfish strife, t;e. tween antagonist principles, that has not yet ceased. The XX11 INT'1'r1ODUCT'ION''TO struggle was between the power of knowledge and that ol physical force. The former, neither pure nor perfect, descend. ed to subterfuge and deceit; while the latter vacillated be. tween the dread of unknown causes, and the love of domination. Monk and baron came in collision; this secretly dis. trusting the faith he professed, and that trembling at the con sequences of the blow which his own sword had given; the firuits of too much knowledge in one, and of too little in the other, while both were the prey of those incessant and unwearied enemies of the race, the greedy passions. A laugh from the child drew my attention to the foot of the rock. He and Christian Kinzel had just settled, to their mutua: satisfaction, the precise position that had been occupied by the Devil's tail. A more suitable emblem of his country than that boy, could not have been found on the whole of its wide surface. As secondary to the predominant English or Saxon stock, the blood of France, Sweden, and Holland ran, in nearly equal currents, in his veins. He had not far to seek, to find among his ancestors the peaceful companion of Penn, the Huguenot, the Cavalier, the Presbyterian, the follower of Luther and of Calvin. Chance had even deepened the resemblance; for, a wanderer from infancy, he now blended languages in merry comments on his recent discovery. The train of thought that his appearance suggested was natural. It embraced the long and mysterious concealment of so vast a portion of the earth as America, from the acquaintance of civilized mian; its discovery and settlement; the manner in which violence and persecution, civil wars, oppression and injustice, had thrown men of all nations upon its shores; the effects of this collision of customs and opinions, unenthralled by habits and laws of selfish origin; the religious and civil liberty that followed; the novel but irrefutable principle on which its government was based, the silent working of its example in the two hemispheres, one of which had already imitated the institutions that the other was struggling to approach, and all the immense results that were dependent on this inscrutable and grand movement of Providence. I know not indeed but my thoughts might have proached thee sublime, had not Christian Kinzel interrupted them, by pointing out the spot where the Devil had kicked the rtone, in his anger. THE HEIDENMAUER. Xxiii Descending from the perch, we took the path to Deurckneim. As we came down the mountain, the tailor had many philosophical remarks to make, that were chiefly elicited by the forlorn condition of one who had much toil and little food. In his view of things, labor was too cheap, and wine and potatoes were too dear. To what depth he might have pushed reflections bottomed on principles so natural, it is impossible to say, had not the boy started some doubts concerning the reputed length of the Devil's tail. HIe had visited the Jardin des Plantes at Paris, seen the kangaroos in the Zoological Garden in London, and was familiar with the inhabitants of a variety of caravans encountered at Rome, Naples, Dresden, and other capitals; with the bears of Berne he had actually been on the familiar terms of a friendly visiting acquaintance Having also some vague ideas of the analogies of things, he could not recall any beast so amply provided with such an elongation of the dorsal bone, as was to be inferred from Christian Kinzel's gutter in the Teufelstein. During the discussion of this knotty point, we reached the inn. The host of the Ox had deceived us in nothing. The viands were excellent, and abundant to prodigality. The bottle of old Deurckheirner might well have passed for Johannisberger, or for that still more delicious liquor, Steinberger, at London or New-York; and the simple and sincere civility with which every thing was served, gave a zest to all. It would have been selfish to recruit nature, without thought of the tailor, after so many hours of violent exercise in the keen air of the mountains. He too had his cup and his viands, and when both were invigorated by these natural means, we held a conference, to which the wvorthy post-master was admitted. The following pages are the offspring of the' convocation held in the parlor of the Ox. Should any musty German antiquary discover some immaterial anachronism, a name misplaced in the order of events, or a monk called prematurely from purgatory, he is invited to wreak his just indignation on Christian Kinzel, whose body and soul may St. Benedict of Limburg protect, fort evermore, against all critics. THE HEIDENMAUIER. CHAPTER I. Stand yoL both forth now; stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave.-As Iotu Like It. THE reader must imagine a -narrow and secluded valley, for the opening scene of this tale. The time was that in which the day loses its power, casting a light on objects most exposed, that resembles colors seen through glass slightly stained; a peculiarity of the atmosphere, which, though almost of daily occurrence in summer and autumn, is the source of constant enjoyment to the real lover of nature. Thehue meant is not a sickly yellow, but rather a soft and melancholy glory, that lends tco the hill-side and copse, to tree and tower, to stream and lawn, those tinges of surpassing loveliness that impart to the close of day its proverbial and soothing charm. The setting sun touched with oblique rays a bit of shaven meadow, that lay in a dell so deep as to owe this parting smile of nature to all accidental formation of the neighboring eminences, a distant mountain crest, that a flock' had cropped and fertilized, a rippling current that glided in the bottom, a narrow beaten path, more worn by hoof than wheel, and a vast range of forest, that swelled and receded from the view, covering leagues of a hill-chase,.that even tradition had never peopled. The spot was seemingly as retired as if it had been chosen in one of our own solitudes of the wilderness 26 THE HEIDENLINIA UEitR. while it was, in fact, near the centre of Europe, ano in the sixteenth century. But, notwithstanding the absence of dwellings, and all the other signs of the immediate presence of man, together with the wooded character of the scene, an American eye would not have been slow to detect its distinguishing features, from those which mark the wilds of this country. The trees, though preserved with care, and flourishing, wanted the moss of ages, the high and rocking summit, the variety and natural wildness of the western forest. No mouldering trunk lay where it had fallen, no branch had been twisted by the gale'and. forgotten, nor did any upturned root betray the indifference of man to the decay of this important part of vegetation. Here and there, a species of broom, such as is seen occasionally on the mast-heads of ships, was erected above some tall member of the woods that stood on an elevated point; land-marks which divided the rights of those who were entitled to cut and clip; the certain evidence that man had long before extended his sway over these sombre hills, and that, retired as they seemed, they were actually subject to all the divisions, and restraints, and vexations, which, in peopled regions, accompany the rights of property. For an hour preceding the opening of.our tale, not a sound of any nature, beyond that of a murmuring brook, had disturbed the quiet of the silent little valley, if a gorge so narrow, and in truth so wild, d(eserved the name. There was not even a bird fluttering among the trees, nor a hawk soaring above the heights. Once, and for a minute only did a roebuck venture from its cover, and descend to the rivulet to drink. The animal had not altogether the elastic bound, the timid and irresolute movement, nor the wandering eye of our own deer, but it was clearly an inhabitant of a' forest; foi THE HEIDENMAUER. 27 while it in some degree confided in the protection, it also distrusted the power of man. No sooner was its thirst assuaged, than listening with the keenness of an instinct that no circumstances of accidental utondition could destroy, it went up the acclivity again, and sought its cover with troubled steps. At the same instant, a grayhound leaped frotm among the trees, on the opposite side of the gorge, into the path, and began bounding back and forth, in the well-known manner of that species of dog, when exercising in restlessness, rather than engaged in the hot strife of the chase. A whistle called the hound back from its gambols, and its master entered the path. A. cap of green velvet, bearing a hunting-horn above the shade, a coarse but neat frock of similar color, equally ornamented with the same badge of office, together with the instrument itself' suspended from a shqulder, and the arms usual to one of that class, denoted a forester, or an individual charged with the care of the chase, and otherwise intrusted with a jurisdiction in the forest; functions that would be m-uch degraded by the use of the abused and familiar term of gamekeeper. The forester was young, active, and, notwithstanding the rudeness of his attire, of a winning exterior. Laying his fusee against the root of a tree, he whistled in the dog, and renewing the call, by means of a shrill instrument that was carried for that purpose, he soon succeeded in bringing its felow to his side. Coupling the grayhounds in a leash, which he attached to his own person, he threw the horn from its noose, and blew a lively and short strain, that rolled up the valley in mellow and melodious notes. When the instrument was removed prom his lips, the youth listened till the last of the distant echoes was done, as if expecting some reply. He was not disappointed. Presently an answering 28'rHE H'EIDENMAUER. blast came down the gorge, ringing among the woods, and causing the hearts of many of its tenants to beat quick and fearfully. The sounds of the unseen instrument were far more shrill and wild than those of the hunting horn, while they wanted not for melancholy sweetness. They appeared both familiar and intelligible to the young forester, who no sooner heard them, than he slung the horn in its usual turn of the cord, resumed the fusee, and stood in an attitude of expectation. It might have been a minute before another youth appeared in the path, higher in the gorge, and advancing slowly towards the forester. His dress was rustic, and altogether that of a peasant, while in his hand he held a long, straight, narrow tube ol cherry wood, firmly wrapped with bark, havintg a mouth-piece and a small bell at the opposite end, resembling those of a trumpet. A.s he came forward, his face was not without an expression of ill humor, though it was rather rendered comic than grave, by a large felt hat, the front rim of which fell in an enormous shade above his eyes, rendering the trim cock in the rear, ludicrously pretending. His legs, like those of the forester, were encased in a sort of leathern hose, that left the limbs naked and free below the knee, while the garment above set so loosely and unbuttoned above that important joint, as to offer no restraint to his movements. 6 "Thou art behind thy time, Gottlob," said the young forester, as the boor approached, " and the good hermit will not give us better welcome -for keeping him from prayer. What has become of thy herd?" " That may the holy man of the Heidenmauer declare, for it is more than I could answer were Lord Emich himself to put the question, and say, in the manner he is wont to use to the Abbot of Lim burg-what hath become of thy herd Gottlob?" THE HE!DENMAAUERI. 29 "6Nay, this is no trifling matter, if thou hast, ill t.ooth, let the cattle stray! Where hadst thou the beasts last in sight?" "Here in the forest of Hartenburg, Master Berchthold, on the honor of an humble servitor of the Count." "Thou wilt yet lose this service, Gottlob, by thy carelessness!" " It would be a thousand pities were thy words to be true, for in that case Lord Emnich would lose the honestest cow~herd in Germany,'nd it would go near to break my heart were the friars of Limburg to get him! But the beasts cannot be far, and I will try the virtue of the horn once more, before I go home to a broken head and a discharge. Dost thou know, 5Master Berchthold, that the disgrace of which thou speakest never yet befell any of my family, and we have been keepers of cattle longer than the Friedrichs have been electors!" The forester made an impatient gesture, patted his hounds, and waited for the effects of the new blast, that his companion was by this time preparing to sound. The manner of Gottlob was that of en tire confidence in his own knowledge of his calling for notwithstanding his words, his countenance a. rno time betrayed. uneasiness for the fate of his trust. The valley was soon ringing with the wild and plaintive tones of the cherry-wood horn, the hind taking care to give the strains those intonations. wnich, by a mute convention, had from time immemorial been understood as the signal for collecting a lost herd. His skill and faith were soon rewarded, for cow after cow came leaping out of the forest, as he blew his air, and ere long the necessary number of animals were in the path, the younger beasts frisking along the way, with elevated tails and awkward bounds, while the more staid contrib utors of the dairy hurried on. with business-like air C, 30 ruE HEIDENMAUER. but grave steps, as better became their years ana their characters in the hamlet. In a few' minutes they were all collected around the person of the keeper, who having counted his charge, shouldered his horn, and disposed himself to proceed towards thile lower extremity of the gorge. "Thou art lucky to have gotten the beasts together, with so little trouble, Gottlob," resumed the forester, as they followed in the train of the herd. "Say dexterous, Master Berchthold, and do not tear to make me' vain-glorious. In the way of understanding my own merits there is little danger of doing me harm. Thou shouldest never discourage modesty, by an over-scrupulous discretion. It would be a village miracle, were a herd so nurtured in the ways of the church to forget its duty!" The forester laughed, but he looked aside, like one who would not see that to which he wished to M blind. 6 "At thy old tricks, friend Gottlob! Thou hast let the beasts roam upon the range of the friars!""6I have paid Peter's pence, been to the chapel of St. Benedict for prayer, confessed to Father Arnolph himself, and all within the month: what more need a man do, to be in favor with the Brothers?"'" I could wish to know if thou ever entertainest F:ather Arnolph with the history of thy visits to the pastures of the convent, with Lord Emich's herd, honest Gottlob." So! Dost thou fancy, Master Berchthold, that, at a moment when there is every necessity to possess a calm and contemplative spirit, I should strive to put the pious monk in a passion, by relating all the antics of sorme ill-bred cow, or of a heifer, who is as little to be trusted wvithout a keeper, as your jung-frau before she reaches the years of caution is o be trusted at.a fair without her nmother, or a sharp sighted old aunt, at the very least!" TI'E UEIDlNTMAUERt. t L "Well, have a care, Gottlob, for Lord Emlich though loving the friars so little, will be apt to order thee into a dungeon, on bread and water for a week, or to make thy back acquainted with the lash, should he come to hear that one of his hinds has taken this liberty with the rights of a neighbor." " Let Lord Emich then expel the brotherhood from the richest pasturage near the Jaegerthal. Flesh and blood cannot bear to see the beasts of a noble digging into the earth with their teeth, after a few bitter herbs, while the carrion of a convent are rolling the finest and sweetest grasses over their tongues. Look you, Master Berchthold, these friars of Limburg eat the fatiest venison, drink the warm.r est wine, and say the shortest prayers of any monks in Christendom! Potz-Tausend! There are some who accuse thenm, too, of shriving the prettiest girls! As for bread and water, and a dungeon, I know from experience that neither of the remedies agrees with a melancholy constitution, and I defy the Emperor, or even the Holy Father himself, to work such a miracle, as to make back of mine acquainted with the lash." "' Simply because the introduction nath long since had place." "6 That is thy interpretation of the matter, Master Berchthold, and I wish thee joy of a quick wit. But we are getting beyond the limits of the forest, and we will dismiss the question to another conversation.' The beasts are full, and will not disappoint the dairy girls, and little matters it whence the nourishment comes-Lord Emich's pastures or a churchly miracle. Thou hast hunted the dogs.ightly to-day, Berchthold?" "I have had them on the mountains for air and movement. They got away on the heels of a roe Duck, for a short run, but as all the game in thi 32 THE I-EIDENMAUER. chase belongs to our master, I did not see fit to le them go faster than there was need." " I rejoice to hear thee say it, for I count upon thy company in climbing the mountain when our work is ended; thy legs will only be the fresher for.he toil." " Thou hast my word, and I will not fail thee; in order that no time be lost, we will part here to mee again in the hamlet." The forester and the cow-herd made signs of leave-taking, and separated. The former quitted the public road, turning short to the right by a p, ivate way, which led him across narrow meadows, and. the little river that glided among them, towards the foot of the opposite mountain. Gottlob held on his course to a hamlet that was now visible, and which completely filled a narrow pass in the valley at a point where the latter made a turn, nearly at a right angle with its general direction. The path of the r-rmer led him to an habitation very different from the rude dwellings towards which the steps of the cow-herd tended. A massive castle occupied a projecting point -of the mountain, overhanging the cluster of houses in the gorge, and frowning upon all that attempted the pass. The structure was a vast but irregular pile. The more modern parts were circular salient towers, that were built upon the uttermost verge of the rock, from whose battlements it would not have'been difficult to cast a stone into the road, and which denoted great attention to strength in their masonry, while beauty of form and of workmanship, as they were understood at the period of which we write, were not entirely neglected. These towers, though large, were mere appendages to the main building, which, seen from the position now before the mind of the reader, presented a confused maze of walls, chimneys, and roofs. In some places, the former rose THE hi EUDENMAUER 33 srem the greensward which covered the hill-side; while in others, advantage had beep taken of the living rock, which was frequently so blended withl the pile it supported, both being of the same reddish fiee-stone, thatit was not easy at the first glance to say, what had been done by nature and what by art. The path of' the forester led from the valley up the mountain, by a gradual and lateral ascent to a huge gate, that opened beneath a high arch, conmmunicating with a court within. - On this side of the castle there was neither ditch, nor bridge, nor any zther of the usual defences, beyond a portcullis, for the position of the hold rendered these precautions in a measure unnecessary. Still great care had been taken to prevent a surprise, and it would have required a sure foot, a steady head, and vigorous limbs, to have effected an entrance into the edifice, )y any other passage than its gate. When Berchthold reached the little terrace that ay before the portal, he loosened his horn, and, standing on the verge of the precipice, blew a hunting strain, apparently in glee. The music echoed among the hills as suited the spot, and more than one crone of the hamlet suspended her toil, in dull admiration, to listen to its wild effect. Replacing the instrument, the youth spoke to his hounds and passed beneath the portcullis, which happened to be raised at the moment. 34 THE 1IEDEiNMAUER. CHAPTER II. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of moor-ditch "` King Henry IV. TIIE light had nearly disappeared from the gorge, n which the hamlet of Hartenburg lay, when Berchthold descended from the castle, by a patlh different from that by which he bad entered it an hour before, and crossing the rivulet by a bridge of stone, he ascended the opposite bank into the street, or rather the road. The young forester having kennelled the hounds, had laid aside his leash and fusee, but he still kept the horn suspended from his shoulder. At his side, too, he carried a couteau-dechasse, a useful instrument of defence in that age and country, as well as a weapon he was entitled to carry, in virtue of his office under the Count of Lienenlgen-Hartenburg, the master of the hold he had just quitted, and the feudal lord of most of the adjoining mountains, as well as of sundry villages on the plain of the Palatinate. It would seem that the cow-herd expected his associate, or perhaps we might venture to call him friend, for such in truth did he appear to be, by the easy terms on which they met. Gottlob was in waiting near the cottage of his mother, and when the two joined each other they communicated by a sign, and proceeded with swift steps, leaving the cluster of houses. Immediately on quitting the hamlet, the valley expanded, and took that character of fertility and cultivation, which has been described to the reader in the Introduction; for all who have perused'that opening and necessary preface to our labors, will at once recognize that the two youths introduced to their acquaintance, were now in the mountain hasir THE HEIDENMAUER. 35 which contained the Abbey of Limburg. But three centuries, while they have effected little in altering the permanent features of the place, have wrought essential changes in those which were more perishable. As the young men moved swiftly on, the first rays of the moon touched the tops of' the mountains, an'l ere they had gone a mile, always holding the direc-. tion of the pass which communicated with the valley of the Rhine, the towers and roofs of the Abbey itself were illuminated. The conventual buildings were then perfect, resembling, by their number and confusion, the grouping of some village, while a strong and massive wall encircled the entire brow of the isolated hill. The construction resembled one of those warlike ecclesiastical princes of the middle ages, who wore armor beneath the stole; for while the towers and painted windows, the pious memorials and votive monuments, denoted the objects of the establishment, the defences betrayed that as much dependence was placed on human as on other means, for the protection of those who composed the brotherhood.'"There is a moon for a monk as well as for a cow-herd, it would seem," observed Gottlob, speaking however- in a voice subdued nearly to a whisper. "There comes the light upon the high tower of the Abbey, and presently it will be glistening on the bald head -of every straggler of the convent, who is abroad tasting the last vintage, or otherwise prying into the affairs of some burgher of Deurckbeim!" "Thou hast not much reverence for the pious Cathers, honest Gottlob; for it is seldom thou lettest opportunity pass to do them an ill turn, with tongue or hungry beast." "Look you, Berchthold, we vassals are little more than so much clear water in which our master mav see his own countenance, and at need his own humors. Whenever Lord Emich has a sincere Iha tred for man or horse, dog or cat, town or village, monk or count, I know not why it'is so, but I feel my own choler rise, until I am both ready and willng to strike when he striketh, to curse when he curseth, and even to kill when lhe killeth." "'Tls a good temper for a servitor, but it is to be hoped, for the sake of Christian credit, that the sym. pathy does not end here, butcthat thy affections are as social as thy dislikes.'" " More so, as there is faith in man! Count Emich is a huge lover of a venison pasty of a morning, and I feel a yearning for it the day long-Count Emich will dispatch you a bottle of Deurckheirn in an hour, whereas two would scarce show my zeal [>or his honor in the same time; and as for other mortifications of this nature, I am not the man to desert my master for want of zeal." "I believe thee, Gottlob," said Berchthold laughing, "and even more than thou canst find words to say in thine own favor, on topics like these. But, after all, the Benedictines are churchmen, and sworn to their faith and duty, as well as any bishop in Germany; and I do not see the cause of all the dislike of either lord or vassal." " Ay, thou art in favor with some of the fraternity, and it is rare that the week passes in which thou art not kneeling before some of their altars; but with me the case is different, for since the penance comrn. manded for that affair of dealing a little freely with one of their herds, I have snm-all digestion for their spiritual food." o "And yet thou Last paid Peter's pence, said thy prayers, and confessed thy sins to Father Arnolph, and all within the month!" " What wouldst thou have of a sinner? I gave the.nonev on the promise of having it back with usurv THE HEIDENMAUER. 37 [ prayed on account of an accursed tooth that torments me, at times, in a manner worse than a damned soul is harrowed; and as to confession, evei since my uncommon candor, concerning the herd, got me into that penance, I confess under favor of a proper discretiono To tell the truth, Master Berchthold, the church is something like a two-year old wife; pleasant enough when allowed her own way, but a devil of a vixen when folded against her will." The young forester was thoughtful and silent, and as they were now in the vicinity of the hamlet which belonged to the friars of Lirnburg, his loquacious and prurient companion saw fit to imitate his reserve, from a motive of prudence. The little artificial lake mentioned in the Introduction was in existence, at the time of our tale; but the inn, with the ambitious sign of the anchor, is the fruit of far more modern enterprise. When the young men reached a ravine, that opened into the mountain near the present site of this tavern, they turned aside from the high road, first taking care to observe that no curious eye watched their movements. Here commenced a long and somewhat painful ascent, by -means of a rough path, that was only /lighted in spots by the rising moon. The vigorous imbs of the forester and the cow-herd, however,