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MYSTERY TALES
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m: roux LITTLE GOOLE-LUG! " —Page 27.


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MYSTERY TALES
FOR BOYS AND GIRLS
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0 the boys and girls who
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PREFACE
The object of this collection is to bring together into
one volume some of the best short stories and story-poems
of ghosts and haunted houses, hidden treasure and strange
enchantment. Most of them are of a legendary character
or illustrate traditional beliefs. The choice has been based
primarily on story interest and suitability for boys and
girls, but the selections are chiefly from standard writers
and present good examples of construction or of literary
style. Although not distinctively a Hallowe’en collection,
it is hoped that the book will be of service to librarians
and teachers in meeting the special demand for mystery
tales at that particular time of the year. 4
“ The Goblin of Rummelsburg” is from “ Dumb
Love ” by Musaus. The translation is by Carlyle and is
unchanged except that in a few cases the wording has
been slightly altered in order to make the portion of the
story used complete in itself and avoid reference to inci-
dents not included. “ The Mysterious Champion of
Hadley ” is from “ Peveril of the Peak.” Of the stories
by Irving, “ The Haunted House ” is from “ Bracebridge
Hall,” “ The Legend of the Moor’s Legacy ” from “The
Alhambra,” “ The Adalantado 0f the Seven Cities ” from
“Wolfert’s Roost, and Other Papers,” and “Don Rod-
erick and the Magic Tower” from “ Spanish Papers.”
The first three of these have been slightly shortened by
the omission of an occasional sentence or passage not nec-


Preface
essary to the understanding of the story. The translation
of Goethe’s “ Erl-King ” is by Sir Walter Scott.
I wish to thank Houghton Mifilin Company for per-
mission to reprint “ The Ballad of Carmilhan ” by Long-
fellow, “ The Gray Champion ” by Nathaniel Hawthorne,
“Aslauga’s Knight” by La Motte-Fouqué, and Longfel-
low’s translation of “ The Luck of Edenhall ” by Uhland.
“The Fisherman’s Ring,” one of the stories included
in “From a Swedish Homestead,” by Selma Lagerlof,
(London, Heinemann), is used by special arrangement
with Mr. William Heinemann. “ The Admiral’s Ghost ”
by Alfred Noyes is included by special arrangement with
Frederick A. Stokes Company.
ELVA S. SMITH.
PITTSBURGH, 1916.


CONTENTS
THE GOLD-BUG . . . . . .
EDGAR ALLAN POE
THE LAST BUCCANEER . . .
LORD MACAULAY
THE GOBLIN OF BUMMELSBURG .
JOHANN Auaws'r Musius
LA BELLE DAME SANs MERCI . .
JOHN KEATS
THE ERL-KING . . . . . .
JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE
ST. SWITHIN’s CHAIR . . . .
Sm WALTER SCOTT
THE SPECTRAL SHIP . . . .
WILHELM HAUFI‘
THE HAUNTED HOUSE . . . .
WASHINGTON IRVING
THE GHOST-SHIP . . . . .
THOMAS Moon
THE BALLAD 0F GARMILHAN . .
HENRY WADsWOETH LONCEELLOW
LEGEND OF THE Moon’s LEGACY .
WASHINGTON IRVING
ALICEBRAND . . . . . .
SIB WALTER SCOTT
THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLEBIDGE
DON RODERICK AND THE MAGIC TOWER
WASHINGTON IRVING
PAGE
51
53
81
84
86
88
102
174
176
186
210
215
240‘


Contents
PAGE
THE AMERICAN CORACLE . . . . . . . . 252
Cnomwnu, GALPIN
THOMAs THE RHYMER . .
SCOTTISH BALLAD
........261
THE FI‘SHERMAN’S RING . . . . . . . 265
SELMA LAaEELbr
THE LUCK OF EDENHALL . . . . . . . . . 288
JOHANN Lvnwm UKLAND
THE PHANTOM ISLE . . . . . . . . . . 291
GXRALDUB CAIBBENSIS
HY-BRASAIL —- THE ISLE or THE BLEST . . . . 292
GERALD GBurEIN
THE ADALANTADO OF THE SEVEN Cums . . . . . 294
WAsHmaTON IEVINO
THE ABBOT 0F INISFALEN . . . . . . . . . 316
WILLIAM ALLINGHAM
THE MYSTERIOUS CHAMPION 0E HADLEY . . . . . 321
Sm WALTER Sco'r'r
THE GRAY CHAMPION . . . . . . . . . . 326
NATHANIEL HAWTHOENE
THE ADMIRAL’s GHOST . . . . . . . . . . 337
ALFRED NoYEs
ASLAUGA’s KNIGHT. . . . . . . . . . . 342
LA MOTTE-Fonqu


MYSTERY TALES
THE GOLD-BUG
EDGAR ALLAN P01:
MANY years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr.
William Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot fam-
ily, and had once been wealthy; but a series of misfor-
tunes had reduced him to want. To avoid the mortifica—
tion consequent upon his disasters, he left New Orleans,
the city of his forefathers, and took up his residence at
Sullivan’s Island, near Charleston, South Carolina.
This island is a very singular one. It consists of little
else than the sea sand, and is about three miles long. Its
breadth at no point exceeds a quarter of a mile. It is
separated from the mainland by a scarcely perceptible
creek, oozing its way through a wilderness of reeds and
slime, a favorite resort of the marsh-hen. The vegetation,
as might be supposed, is scant, or at least dwarfish. No
trees of any magnitude are to be seen. Near the western
extremity, where Fort Moultrie stands, and where are
some miserable frame buildings, tenanted during summer
by the fugitives from Charleston dust and fever, may be
found, indeed, the bristly palmetto; but the whole island,
with the exception of this western point, and a line of hard
white beach on the seacoast, is covered with a dense under-


2 ' Mystery Tales
growth of the sweet myrtle, so much prized by the horti-
culturists of England. The shrub here often attains the
height of fifteen or twenty feet, and forms an almost im-
penetrable coppice, burdening the air with its fragrance.
In the utmost recesses of this coppice, not far from the
eastern or more remote end of the island, Legrand had
built himself a small hut, which he occupied when I first,
by mere accident, made his acquaintance. This soon ri-
pened into friendship — for there was much in the recluse
to excite interest and esteem. I found him well educated,
with unusual powers of mind, but infected with misan-
thropy, and subject to perverse moods of alternate enthu-
siasm and melancholy. He had with him many books,
but rarely employed them. His chief amusements were
gunning and fishing, or sauntering along the beach and
through the myrtles, in quest of shells or entomological
specimens —his collection of the latter might have been
envied by a Swammerdamm.~ In these excursions he was
usually accompanied by an old negro, called Jupiter, who
had been manumitted before the reverses of the family,
but who could be induced, neither by threats, nor by prom-
ises, to abandon what he considered his right of attendance
upon the footsteps of his young “Massa Will.” It is not
improbable that the relatives of Legrand, conceiving him
to be somewhat unsettled in intellect, had contrived to in—
stil this obstinacy into Jupiter, with a view to the super—
vision and guardianship of the wanderer.
The winters in the latitude of Sullivan’s Island are
seldom very severe, and in the fall of the year it is a rare
event indeed when a fire is considered necessary. About
the middle of October, 18—, there occurred, however, a


The Gold-Bug 3
day of remarkable chilliness. Just before sunset I scram-
bled my way through the evergreens to the but of my friend,
whom I had not visited for several weeks —— my residence
being at that time in Charleston, a distance of nine miles
from the island, where the facilities of passage and re-
passage were very far behind those of the present day.
Upon reaching the hut I rapped, as was my custom, and,
getting no reply, sought for the key where I knew it was
secreted, unlocked the door and went in. A fine fire was
blazing upon the hearth. It was a novelty, and by no
means an ungrateful one. I threw off an overcoat, took
an armchair by the crackling logs, and awaited patiently
the arrival of my hosts.
Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cor-
dial welcome. Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, hustled
about to prepare some marsh-hens for supper. Legrand
was in one of his fits —— how else shall I term them Z — of
enthusiasm. He had found an unknown bivalve, forming
a new genus, and, more than this, he had hunted down
and secured, with Jupiter’s assistance, a scarabwus which
he believed to be totally new, but in respect to which he
wished to have my opinion on the morrow.
“ And why not to-night? ” I asked, rubbing my hands
OVer the blaze, and wishing the whole tribe of scarabazi
at the devil.
“Ah, if I had only known you were here! ” said
Legrand, “but it’s so long since I saw you; and how
could I foresee that you would pay me a visit this very
night of all others? As I was coming home I met Lieu-
tenant G'r , from the fort, and, very foolishly, I lent
him the bug; so it will be impossible for you to see it until


4 Mystery Tales
the morning. Stay here tO-night, and I will send Jup
down for it at sunrise. It is the loveliest thing in
creation! ”
“ What '2 — sunrise? ”
“ Nonsense! no! —the bug. It is of a brilliant gold
color— about the size of a large hickory-nut — with two
jet black spots near one extremity of the back, and another,
somewhat longer, at the other. The antennw are —”
“ Dey aint no tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin’
on you,” here interrupted Jupiter; “de bug is a goole-
bug, solid, ebery bit of him, inside and all, sep him wing
' —— neber feel half so hebby a bug in my life.”
“ Well, suppose it is, J up,” replied Legrand, somewhat
more earnestly, it seemed to me, than the case demanded,
“ is that any reason for your letting the birds burn? The
color ”— here he turned to me —“ is really almost
enough to warrant Jupiter’s idea. You never saw a more
brilliant metallic lustre than the scales emit — but of this
you cannot judge till to-morrow. In the meantime, I can
give you some idea of the shape.” Saying this, he seated
himself at a small table, on which were a pen and ink,
but no paper. He looked for some in a drawer, but
found none.
“ Never mind,” said he at length, “ this will answer ” ;
and he drew from his waistcoat pocket a scrap of what I
took to be very dirty foolscap, and made upon it a rough
drawing with the pen. While he did this, I retained my
seat by the fire, for I was still chilly. When the design
was complete, he handed it to me without rising. 'As I
received it, a low growl was heard, succeeded by a scratch-
ing at the door. Jupiter opened it, and a large New—


The Gold-Bug 5
foundland, belonging to Legrand, rushed in, leaped upon
my shoulders, and loaded me with caresses; for I had
shown him much attention during previous visits. When
his gambols were over, I looked at the paper, and, to speak
the truth, found myself not a little puzzled at what my
friend had depicted.
“ Well!” I said, after contemplating it for some
minutes, “ this is a strange scarabwus, I must confess;
new to me; never saw anything like it before ——unless it
was a skull, or a death’s-head, which it more nearly
resembles than anything else that has come under my
observation.”
“ A death’s-head! ” echoed Legrand -—“ Oh—yes—
well, it has something of that appearance upon paper, no
doubt. The two upper black spots look like eyes, eh?
and the longer one at the bottom like a mouth — and then
the shape of the whole is oval.”
“Perhaps so,” said I; “but, Legrand, I fear you are
no artist. I must wait until I see the beetle itself, if I
am to form any idea of its personal appearance.”
“ Well, I don’t know,” said he, a little nettled, “I draw
tolerably —— should do it at least — have had good masters,
and flatter myself that I am not quite a blockhead.”
“But, my dear fellow, you are joking then,” said I;
“ this is a very passable skull,—— indeed, I may say that it
is a very excellent skull, according to the vulgar notions
about such specimens of physiology —— and your sea/rabwus
must be the queerest scarabaaus in the world if it resembles
it. Why, we may get up a very thrilling bit of supersti-
tion upon this hint. I presume you will call the bug
scarabams caput hominis, or something of that kind—
.l':


6 Mystery Tales
there are many similar titles in the Natural Histories.
But where are the antenna you spoke of ? ”
“ The antennw! ” said Legrand, who seemed to he get-
ting unaccountany warm upon the subject; “ I am
sure you must see the antenna. I made them as distinct
as they are in the original insect, and I presume that is
sufficient.”
“Well, well,” I said, “perhaps you have—still I
don’t see them”; and I handed him the paper without
additional remark, not wishing to ruflle his temper; but I
was much surprised at the turn affairs had taken; his ill
humor puzzled me—and, as for the drawing of the
beetle, there were positively no antennae visible, and the
whole did bear a very close resemblance to the ordinary
cuts of a death’s-head.
He received the paper very peevishly, and was about
to crumple it, apparently to throw it in the fire, when a
casual glance at the design seemed suddenly to rivet his
attention. In an instant his face grew violently red—
in another as excessively pale. For some minutes he con-
tinued to scrutinize the drawing minutely where he sat.
At length he arose, took a candle from the table, and
proceeded to seat himself upon a sea-chest in the farther
corner of the room. Here again he made an anxious
examination of the paper; turning it in all directions.
He said nothing, however, and his conduct greatly aston-
ished me; yet I thought it prudent not to exacerbate the
growing moodiness of his temper by any comment.
Presently he took from his coat a wallet, placed the paper
carefully in it, and deposited both in a writing-desk,
which he looked. He now grew more composed in his


The Gold-Bug 7
demeanor; but his original air of enthusiasm had quite
disappeared. Yet he seemed not so much sulky as
abstracted. As the evening wore away he became more
and more absorbed in revery, from which no sallies of
mine could arouse him. It had been my intention to
pass the night at the hut, as I had frequently done before,
but, seeing my host in this mood, I deemed it proper to
take leave. He did not press me to remain, but, as I
departed, he shook my hand with even more than his
usual cordiality.
It was about a month after this (and during the inter-
val I had seen nothing of Legrand) when I received a
visit, at Charleston, from his man, Jupiter. I had never
seen the good old negro look so dispirited, and I feared
that some serious disaster had befallen my friend.
“ Well, J up,” said I, “ what is the matter now 3 —— how
is your master?”
“ Why, to speak de troof, massa, him not so berry well
as mought be.”
“ Not well! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does
he complain of? ”
“Dar! dat’s itl—him neber ’plain of notin’— but
him berry sick for all dat.”
“ Very sick, Jupiter! -——why didn’t you say so at
once? Is he confined to bed? ”
“ No, dat he aint! —he aint find nowhar— dat’s just
whar de shoe pinch—my mind is got to be berry hebby
bout poor Massa Will.”
“ Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you
are talking about. You ay your master is sick. Hasn’t
he told you what ails him? ”


The Gold-Bug 9
see sich a bug — he kick and he bite ebery ting what cum
near him. Massa Will cotch him fuss, but had for to let
him go gin mighty quick, I tell you—den was de time
he must ha got do bite. I didn’t like de look ob de bug
moufl, myself, no how, so I wouldn’t take hold ob him wid
my finger, but I cotch him wid a piece of paper dat I
found. I rap him up in de paper and stuff piece ob it
in he moufi —- dat was de way.”
“And you think, then, that your master was really
bitten by the beetle, and that the bite made him sick? ”
“ I don’t tink nofiin about it —I nose it. What make
him dream bout de goole so much, if taint cause he hit
by de goole-bug? Ise heerd bout dem goole-bugs fore dis.”
“But how do you know he dreams about gold? ”
“ How I know Z Why, cause he talk about it in he sleep
— dat’s how I nose.”
“Well, J up, perhaps you are right; but to what for-
tunate circumstance am I to attribute the honor of a
visit from you to-day? ”
“ What de matter, massa? ”
“ Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand? ”
“ N o, massa, I bring dis here pissel ” ; and here Jupiter
handed me a note which ran thus:

“My dear , Why have I not seen you for so long
a time? I hope you have not been so foolish as to take
offence at any little brusquen'e of mine; but no, that is
improbable.
“ Since I saw you I have had great cause for anxiety.
I have something to tell you, yet scarcely know how to
tell it, or whether I should tell it at all.


10 Mystery Tales
“ I have not been quite well for some days past, and
poor old J up annoys me, almost beyond endurance, by his
well-meant attentions. Would you believe itl—he had
prepared a huge stick, the other day, with which to chas-
tise me for giving him the slip, and spending the day,
solus, among the hills on the mainland. I verily believe
that my ill looks alone saved me a flogging.
“ I have made no addition to my cabinet since we met.
“ If you can, in any way, make it convenient, come over
with Jupiter. D0 come. I wish to see you to-m'ght,
upon business of importance. I assure you that it is of
the highest importance.
“ Ever yours,
“WILLIAM LEGHAND.”
There was something in the tone of this note which
gave me great uneasiness. 'It’s whole style difiered
materially from that of Legrand. What could he be
dreaming of? What new crotchet possessed his excit-
able brain? What “business of the highest importance ”
could he possibly have to transact? Jupiter’s account of
him boded no good. I dreaded lest the continued pres-
sure of misfortune had, at length, fairly unsettled the
reason of my friend. Without a moment’s hesitation,
therefore, I prepared to accompany the negro.
Upon reaching the wharf, I noticed a scythe and three
spades, all apparently new, lying in the bottom of the boat
in which we were to embark.
“What is the meaning of all this, Jup? ” I inquired.
“ Him syfe, massa, and spade.”


The Gold-Bug 11
“ Very true; but what are they doing here? ”
“Him de syfe and de spade what Massa Will sis pon
my buying for him in de town, and de debbil’s own lot
of money I had to gib for em.”
“But what, in the name of all that is mysterious, is
your ‘ Massa Will’ going to do with scythes and spades?”
“ Dat’s more dan I know, and debbil take me if I don’t
blieve ’tis more dan he know, too. But it’s all cum ob de
bug.”
Finding that no satisfaction was to be obtained of
Jupiter, whose whole intellect seemed to be absorbed by
“de bug,” I now stepped into the boat and made sail.
With a fair and strong breeze we soon ran into the little
cove to the northward of Fort Moultrie, and a walk of
some two miles brought us to the hut. It was about three
in the afternoon when we arrived. Legrand had been
awaiting us in eager expectation. He grasped my hand
with a nervous empressement, which alarmed me and
strengthened the suspicions already entertained. His
countenance was pale even to ghastliness, and his deep-
set eyes glared with unnatural lustre. After some in-
quiries respecting his health, I asked him, not knowing
what better to say, if he had yet obtained the scarabwus
from Lieutenant G .
“Oh, yes,” he replied, coloring violently; “I got it
from him the next morning. Nothing should tempt me
to part with that scarabwus. Do you know that Jupiter
is quite right about it?”
“In what way?” I asked, with a sad foreboding at
heart.


12 Mystery Tales
“ In supposing it to be a bug of real gold.” He said
this with an air of profound seriousness, and I felt inex-
pressibly shocked.
“ This bug is to make my fortune,” he continued, with
a triumphant smile, “ to reinstate me in my family
possessions. Is it any wonder, then, that I prize it?
Since Fortune has thought fit to bestow it upon me, I
have only to use it properly and I shall arrive at the gold
of which it is the index. Jupiter,‘ bring me that
scarabwus! ”
“ What! de bug, massa? I’d rudder not go fer trubble
dat bug—you mus git him for your own self.” Here-
upon Legrand arose, with a grave and stately air, and
brought me the beetle from a glass case in which it was
enclosed. It was a beautiful scarabwus, and, at that time,
unknown to naturalists ——of course a great prize in a
scientific point of view. There were two round, black
spots near one extremity of the back, and a long one near
the other. The scales were exceedingly hard and glossy,
with all the appearance of burnished gold. The weight
of the insect was very remarkable, and, taking all things
into consideration, I could hardly blame Jupiter for his
opinion respecting it; but what to make of Legrand’s
agreement with that opinion, I could not, for the life of
me, tell.
“I sent for you,” said he, in a grandiloquent tone,
when I had completed my examination of the beetle, “ I
sent for you, that I might have your counsel and assistance
in furthering the views of Fate and of the bug —”
“ My dear Legrand,” I said, interrupting him, “you
are certainly unwell, and had better use some little pre-


The Gold-Bug 13
cautions. You shall go to bed, and I will remain with
you a few days, until you get over this. You are feverish
and _7,
“Feel my pulse,” said he.
I felt it, and, to say the truth, found not the slightest
indication of fever.
“But you may be ill, and yet have no fever. Allow
me this once to prescribe for you. In the first place, go
to bed. In the next —”
“You are mistaken,” he interposed, “ I am as well as
I can expect to be under‘the excitement which I suffer.
If you really wish me well, you will relieve this excite-
ment.”
“And how is this to be done?”
“ Very easily. Jupiter and myself are going upon
an expedition into the hills, upon the mainland, and, in
this expedition, we shall need the aid of some person in
whom we can confide. You are the only one we can
trust. Whether we succeed or fail, the excitement which
you now perceive in me will be equally allayed.” ~
“ I am anxious to oblige you in any way,” I re
plied; “ but do you mean to say that this infernal beetle
has any connection with your expedition into the
hills? ”
“ It has.”
“ Then, Legrand, I can become a party to no such
absurd proceeding.”
“ I am sorry—very sorry—~for we shall have to try
it by ourselves.” ,
“ Try it by yourselves! The man is surely mad!—
but stay— how long do you propose to be absent? ” *


14 Mystery Tales
“ Probably all night. We shall start immediately, and
be back, at all events, by sunrise.”
“ And will you promise me, upon your honor, that when
this freak of yours is over, and the bug business settled
to your satisfaction, you will then return home and follow
my advice implicitly, as that of your physician?”
“ Yes; I promise; and now let us be OE, for we have no
time to lose.” ‘
With a heavy heart I accompanied my friend. We
started about four o’clock—Legrand, Jupiter, the dog,
and myself. Jupiter had with him the scythe and spades
——the whole of which he insisted upon carrying, more
through fear, it seemed to me, of trusting either of the
implements within reach Of his master, than from any
excess of industry or complaisance. His demeanor was
dogged in the extreme, and “ dat bug ” were the sole words
which escaped his lips during the journey. For my own
part, I had charge of a couple of dark lanterns, while
Legrand contented himself with the scarabwus, which he
carried attached to the end of a bit of whip-cord; twirling
it to and fro, with the air of a conjurer, as he went. When
I observed this last, plain evidence of my friend’s aberra-
tion of mind, I could scarcely refrain from tears. I
thought it best, however, to humor his fancy, at least for
the present, or until I could adopt some more energetic
measures with a chance of success. In the meantime I
endeavored, but all in vain, to sound him in regard to the
object- of the expedition. Having succeeded in inducing
me to accompany him, he seemed unwilling to hold conver-
sation upon any topic of minor importance, and to all my
questions vouchsafed no other reply than “ we shall see! ”


The Gold-Bug 15
We crossed the creek at the head of the island by means
of a skiff, and, ascending the high grounds on the shore
of the mainland, proceeded in a northwesterly direction,
through a tract of country excessively wild and desolate,
where no trace of a human footstep was to be seen.
Legrand led the way with decision; pausing only for an
instant, here and there, to consult what appeared to be
certain landmarks of his own contrivance upon a former
occasion.
In this manner we journeyed for about two hours, and
the sun was just setting when we entered a region infin-
itely more dreary than any yet seen. It was a species of
tableland, near the summit of an almost inaccessible hill,
densely wooded from base to pinnacle, and interspersed
with huge crags that appeared to lie loosely upon the soil,
and in many cases were prevented from precipitating
themselves into the valleys below merely by the support
of the trees against which they reclined. Deep ravines,
in various directions, gave an air of still sterner solemnity
to the scene.
The natural platform to which we had clambered was
thickly overgrown with brambles, through which we soon
discovered that it would have been impossible to force our
way but for the scythe; and Jupiter, by direction of his
master, proceeded to clear for us a path to the foot of an
enormously tall tulip-tree, which stood, with some eight
or ten oaks, upon the level, and far surpassed them all,
and all other trees which I had then ever seen, in the
beauty of its foliage and form, in the wide spread of its
branches, and in the general majesty of its appearance.
When we reached this tree, Legrand turned to Jupiter,


16 Mystery Tales
and asked him if he thought he could climb it. The old
man seemed a little staggered by the question, and for
some moments made no reply. At length he approached
the huge trunk, walked slowly around it, and examined
it with minute attention. When he had completed his
scrutiny, he merely said:
“Yes, massa, Jup climb any tree he ebber see in he
life.”
“ Then up with you as soon as possible, for it will soon
be too dark to see what we are about.”
“ How far mus go up, massa? ” inquired Jupiter.
“ Get up the main trunk first, and then I will tell you
which way to go—and here—stop! take this beetle
with you.”
“De bug, Massa Will! —de goole-bug! ” cried the
negro, drawing back in dismay —“what for mus tote de
bug away up de tree? ”
“ If you are afraid, Jup, a great big negro like you,
to take hold of a harmless little dead beetle, why, you
can carry it up by this string — but, if you do not take it
up with you in some way, I shall be under the necessity
of breaking your head with this shovel.”
“What de matter now, massa?” said Jup, evidently
shamed into compliance; “ always want fur to raise fuss
wid old nigger. Was only funnin anyhow. Me feered
de bug! What I keer for de bug?” Here he took
cautiously hold of the extreme end of the string, and,
maintaining the insect as far from his person as circum-
stances would permit, prepared to ascend the tree.
In youth, the tulip-tree, the most magnificent of Ameri-


The Gold-Bug 17
can foresters, has a trunk peculiarly smooth, and often
rises to a great height without lateral branches; but, in
its riper age, the bark becomes gnarled and uneven, while
many short limbs make their appearance on the stem.
Thus the difficulty of ascension, in the present case, lay
more in semblance than in reality. Embracing the huge
cylinder as closely as possible, with his arms and knees,
seizing with his hands some projections, and resting his
naked toes upon others, Jupiter, after one or two narrow
escapes from falling, at length wriggled himself into the
first great fork, and seemed to consider the whole business
as virtually accomplished. The risk of the achievement
was, in fact, now over, although the climber was some
sixty or seventy feet from the ground.
“Which way mus go now, Massa Will? ” he asked.
“ Keep up the largest branch,—- the one on this side,”
said Legrand. The negro obeyed him promptly, and
apparently with but little trouble, ascending higher and
higher, until no glimpse of his squat figure could be
obtained through the dense foliage which enveloped it.
Presently his voice was heard in a sort of halloo. “ How
much fudder is got for go? ”
“ How high up are you? ” asked Legrand.
“ Ebber so fur,” replied the negro; “can see de sky
fru de top ob de tree.”
“ Never mind the sky, but attend to what I say. Look
down the trunk and count the limbs below you on this
side. How many limbs have you passed? ”
“ One, two, tree, four, fibe -— I done pass fibe big limb,
massa, pon dis side.”


18 Mystery Tales
“ Then go one limb higher.”
In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announcing
that the seventh limb was attained.
“ Now, J up,” cried Legrand, evidently much excited,
“ I want you to work your way out upon that limb as far
as you can. If you see anything strange, let me know.”
By this time what little doubt I might have entertained
of my poor friend’s insanity was put finally at rest. I
had no alternative but to conclude him stricken with
lunacy, and I became seriously anxious about getting him
home. While I was pondering upon what was best to be
done, Jupiter’s voice was again heard.
“ Mos feerd for to ventur pon dis limb berry far —— ’tis
dead limb putty much all de way.”
“Did you say it was a dead limb, Jupiter?” cried
Legrand in a quavering voice. '
“ Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail—done up for
sartain— done departed dis here life.”
“ What in the name of heaven shall I do? ” asked
Legrand, seemingly in the greatest distress.
“ Do! ” said I, glad of an opportunity to interpose a
word, “why, come home and go to bed. Come now! —
that’s a fine fellow. It’s getting late, and, besides, you
remember your promise.”
“ Jupiter,” cried he, without heeding me in the least,
“ do you hear me?”
“ Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain.”
“ Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see
if you think it very rotten.”
“ Him rotten, massa, sure nufi,” replied the negro in a
few moments, “but not so berry rotten as mought be.


The Gold-Bug 19
Mought ventur out leetle way pon de limb by myself, dat’s
true.”
“By yourself! —what do you mean?”
“ Why, I mean de bug. ’Tis berry hebby bug. S’pose
I drop him down fuss, and den de limb won’t break wid
just de weight ob one nigger.”
“You infernal scoundrel! ” cried Legrand, apparently
much relieved, “what do you mean by telling me such
nonsense as that? As sure as you let that beetle fall, I’ll
break your neck. Look here, Jupiter! do you hear me? ”
“ Yes, massa, needn’t hollO at poor nigger dat style.”
“Well! now listen! ——if you will venture out on the
limb as far as you think safe, and not let go the beetle,
I’ll make you a present of a silver dollar as soon as you
get down.”
“ I’m gwine, Massa Will — deed I is,” replied the
negro very promptly —“ mos out to the eend now.”
“ Out to the end! ” here fairly screamed Legrand, “ do
you say you are out to the end of that limb? ”
“ Soon be to de eend, massa,— o-o-O-o-oh! Lor-gol-a—
marcy! What is dis here pon de tree? ”
“Well!” cried Legrand, highly delighted, “what is
it ? ”
“ Why taint noffin but a skull —-— somebody bin lef him
head up de tree, and de crows done gobble ebery bit ob
de meat off.”
“A skull, you say! ——-:very well! --—-how is it fastened
to the limb?—what holds it on?”
“ Sure nufl“, massa; mus look. Why, dis berry curous
sarcumstance, pon my word-dare’s a great big nail in
de skull, what fastens Ob it on to de tree.”


20 Mystery Tales
“ Well, now, Jupiter, do exactly as I tell you—d0
you hear? ”
“ Yes, massa.”
“ Pay attention, then! —- find the left eye of the skull.”
“Hum! hoo! dat’s good! Why, dar aint no eye lef
at all.”
“ Curse your stupidity! Do you know your right hand
from your left ? ”
“ Yes, I nose dat -— nose all bout dat —’tis my lef hand
what I chops de wood wid.”
“ To be sure! you are left-handed; and your left eye
is on the same side as your left hand. N 0w, I suppose,
you can find the left eye of the skull, or the place where
the left eye has been. Have you found it 2 ”
Here was a long pause. At length the negro asked:
“Is de lef eye of de skull pon de same side as de lef
hand of de skull, tool—cause de skull aint got not a
bit ob a hand at all—neber mind! I got de lef eye
now—— here de lef eye! What mus do wid it? ”
“Let the beetle drop through it, as far as the string
will reach—but be careful and not let go your hold of
the string.’ ’ .
“All dat done, Massa Will; mighty easy ting for to
put de bug fru de hole—look out for him dar below! ”
During this colloquy no portion of Jupiter’s person
could be seen; but the beetle, which he had suffered to
descend, was now visible at the end of the string, and
glistened, like a globe of burnished gold, in the last rays
of the setting sun, some of which still faintly illumined
the eminence upon which we stood. The scarabwus hung
quite clear of any branches, and, if allowed to fall, would


The Gold-Bag 21
have fallen at our feet. Legrand immediately took the
scythe, and cleared with it a circular space, three or four
yards in diameter, just beneath the insect, and, having
accomplished this, ordered Jupiter to let go the string and
come down from the tree.
Driving a peg, with great nicety, into the ground, at
the precise spot where the beetle fell, my friend now pro-
duced from his pocket a tape-measure. Fastening one
end of this at that point of the trunk of the tree which
was nearest the peg, he unrolled it till it reached the peg,
and thence farther unrolled it, in the direction already
established by the two points of the tree and the peg, for
the distance of fifty feet—Jupiter clearing away the
brambles with the scythe. At the spot thus attained a
second peg was driven, and about this, as a centre, a rude
circle, about four feet in diameter, described. Taking
now a spade himself, and giving one to Jupiter and one
to me, Legrand begged us to set about digging as quickly
as possible.
To speak the truth, I had no especial relish for such
amusement at any time, and, at that particular moment,
would most willingly have declined it; for the night was
coming on, and I felt much fatigued with the exercise
already taken; but I saw no mode of escape, and was
fearful of disturbing my poor friend’s equanimity by a
refusal. Could I have depended, indeed, upon Jupiter’s
aid, I would have had no hesitation in attempting to get
the lunatic home by force; but I was too well assured
of the old negro’s disposition to hope that he would as-
sist me, under any circumstances, in a personal contest
with his master. I made no doubt that the latter had been
I


22 Mystery Tales
infected with some of the innumerable Southern super-
stitions about money buried, and that his fantasy had
received confirmation by the finding of the scarabwus, or,
perhaps, by Jupiter’s obstinacy in maintaining it to be “ a
bug of real gold.” A mind disposed to lunacy would
readily be led away by such suggestions, especially if
chiming in with favorite preconceived ideas; and then
I called to mind the poor fellow’s speech about the beetle’s
being “the index of his fortune.” Upon the whole, I
was sadly vexed and puzzled, but at length I concluded
to make a virtue of necessity -——to dig with a good will,
and thus the sooner to convince the visionary, by ocular
demonstration, of the fallacy of the opinions he enter-
tained.
The lanterns having been lit, we all fell to work with
a zeal worthy a more rational cause; and, as the glare
fell upon our persons and implements, I could not help
thinking how picturesque a group we composed, and how
strange and suspicious our labors must have appeared to
any interloper who, by chance, might have stumbled upon
our whereabouts.
We dug very steadily for two hours. Little was said;
and our chief embarrassment lay in the yelpings of the
dog, who took exceeding interest in our proceedings. He,
at length, became so obstreperous that we grew fearful
of his giving the alarm to some stragglers in the vicinity;
or, rather, this was the apprehension of Legrand ; for my-
self, I should have rejoiced at any interruption which
might have enabled me to get the wanderer home. The
noise was, at length, very efiectually silenced by Jupiter,
who, getting out of the hole with a dogged air of de-
l


The Gold-Bug 23
liberation, tied the brute’s mouth up with one of his sus-
penders, and then returned, with a grave chuckle, to his
task.
When the time mentioned had expired, we had reached
a depth of five feet, and yet no signs of any treasure be—
came manifest. A general pause ensued, and I began to
hope that the farce was at an end. Legrand, however, al-
though evidently much disconcerted, wiped his brow
thoughtfully and recommenced. We had excavated the
entire circle of four feet diameter, and now we slightly
enlarged the limit, and went to the farther depth of two
feet. Still nothing appeared. The gold-seeker, whom I
sincerely pitied, at length clambered from the pit, with
the bitterest disappointment imprinted upon every fea-
ture, and proceeded, slowly and reluctantly, to put on his
coat, which he had thrown off at the beginning of his la-
bor. In the meantime I made no remark. Jupiter, at
a signal from his master, began to gather up his tools.
This done, and the dog having been unmuzzled, we turned
in profound silence towards home.
We had taken, perhaps, a dozen steps in this direction,
when, with a loud oath, Legrand strode up to Jupiter,
and seized him by the collar. The astonished negro
opened his eyes and mouth to the fullest extent, let fall
the spades, and fell upon his knees.
“ You scoundrel,” said Legrand, hissing out the syl-
lables from between his clenched teeth —“ you infernal
black villain! ——speak, I tell you! —answer me this in-
stant, without prevarication! -—which—which is your
left eye? ”
“ Oh, Massa Will! aint dis here my lef eye for sar-


24 Mystery Tales
tain?” roared the terrified Jupiter, placing his hand
upon his right organ of vision, and holding it there with
a desperate pertinacity, as if in immediate dread of his
master’s attempt at a gouge.
“I thought so! —— I knew it! hurrah!” vociferated
Legrand, letting the negro go, and executing a series Of
curvets and caracoles, much to the astonishment of his
valet, who,‘ arising from his knees, looked mutely from
his master to myself, and then from myself to his master.
“- Come! we must go back,” said the latter, “ the game’s
not up yet”; and he again led the way to the tulip-tree.
“Jupiter,” said he, when he reached its foot, “come
here! was the skull nailed to the limb with the face out-
ward, Or with the face to the limb? ”
“De face was out, massa, so dat de crows could get
at de eyes good, widout any trouble.” ,
“ Well, then, was it this eye or that through which you
dropped the beetle? ”—-— here Legrand touched each Of
Jupiter’s eyes.
“’Twas dis eye, massa—de lef eye—jis as you tell
me,” and here it was his right eye that the negro indi-
cated.
“ That will do—we must try it again.”
Here my friend, about whose madness I now saw, or
fancied that I saw, certain indications of method, removed
the peg which marked the spot where the beetle fell, to a
spot about three inches to the westward Of its former po—
sition. Taking, now, the tape—measure from the nearest
point of the trunk to the peg, as before, and continuing
the extension in a straight line to the distance of fifty


The Gold-Bug 25
feet, a spot was indicated, removed by several yards, from
the point at which we had been digging.
Around the new position a circle, somewhat larger than
in the former instance, was now described, and we again
set to work with the spades. I was dreadfully weary, but,
scarcely understanding what had occasioned the change
in my thoughts, I felt no longer any great aversion from
the labor imposed. I had become most unaccountably in-
terested—nay, even excited. Perhaps there was some-
thing, amid all the extravagant demeanor of Legrand —
some air of forethought, or of deliberation—which im-
pressed me. I dug eagerly, and now and then caught my-
self actually looking, with something that very much re-
sembled expectation, for the fancied treasure, the vision
of which had demented my unfortunate companion. At
a period when such vagaries of thought most fully pos-
sessed me, and when we had been at work perhaps an
hour and a half, we were again interrupted by the violent
howlings of the dog. His uneasiness, in the first in-
stance, had been evidently but the result of playfulness
or caprice, but he now assumed a bitter and serious tone.
Upon Jupiter’s again attempting to muzzle him, he made
furious resistance, and, leaping into the hole, tore up the
mould frantically with his claws. In a few seconds he
had uncovered a mass of human bones, forming two com—
plete skeletons, intermingled with several buttons of metal,
and what appeared to be the dust of decayed woollen. One
or two strokes of a spade upturned the blade of a large
Spanish knife, and, as we dug farther, three or four loose
pieces of gold and silver coin came to light.


26 Mystery Tales
At sight of these the joy of Jupiter could scarcely be
restrained, but the countenance of his master wore an air
of extreme disappointment. He urged us, however, to
continue our exertions, and the words were hardly ut-
tered when I stumbled and fell forward, having caught
the toe of my boot in a large ring of iron that lay half
buried in the loose earth.
We now worked in earnest, and never did I pass ten
minutes of more intense excitement. During this interval
we had fairly unearthed an oblong chest of wood, which,
from its Perfect preservation and wonderful hardness, had
plainly been subjected to some mineralizing process —
perhaps that of the bichloride of mercury. This box was
three feet and a half long, three feet broad, and two and
a half feet deep. It was firmly secured by bands of
wrought iron, riveted, and forming a kind of trellis-work
over the whole. On each side of the chest, near the top,
were three rings of iron — six in all — by means of which
a firm hold could be obtained by six persons. Our ut-
most united endeavors served only to disturb the cofier
very slightly in its bed. We at once saw the impossibility
of removing so great a weight. Luckily, the sole fasten-
ings of the lid consisted of two sliding bolts. These we
drew back —— trembling and panting with anxiety. In an
instant, a treasure of incalculable value lay gleaming be-
fore us. As the rays of the lanterns fell within the pit,
there flashed upwards, from a confused heap of gold and
of jewels, a glow and a glare that absolutely dazzled our
eyes.
I shall not pretend to describe the feelings with which
I gazed. Amazement was, of course, predominant. Le-


The Gold-Bug 27
grand appeared exhausted with excitement, and spoke very
few words. Jupiter’s countenance wore, for some min—
utes, as deadly a pallor as it is possible, in the nature of
things, for any negro’s visage to assume. He seemed
stupefied -—— thunder-stricken. Presently he fell upon his
knees in the pit, and, burying his naked arms up to the
elbows in the gold, let them there remain, as if enjoying
the luxury of a bath. At length, with a. deep sigh, be ex-
claimed, as if in a soliloquy:
“ And dis all cum 0b de goole-bug! de putty goole-bug!
de poor little goole-bug, what I boosed in dat sabage kind
ob style! Aint you shamed ob yourself, nigger? ——an-
swer me dat! ”
It became necessary, at last, that I should arouse both
master and valet to the expediency of removing the treas-
ure. It was growing late, and it behooved us to make
exertion, that we might get everything housed before day-
light. It was difficult to say what should be done, and
much time was spent in deliberation— so confused were
the ideas of all. We finally lightened the box by remov-
ing two-thirds of its contents, when we were enabled, with
some trouble, to raise it from the hole. The articles
taken out were deposited among the brambles, and the
dog left to guard them, with strict orders from Jupiter
neither, upon any pretence, to stir from the spot, nor to
open his mouth until our return. We then hurriedly made
for home with the chest; reaching the hut in safety, but
after excessive toil, at one o’clock in the morning. Worn
out as we were, it was not in human nature to do more just
then. We rested until two, and had supper; starting for
the hills immediately afterwards, armed with three stout


28 Mystery Tales
sacks, which by good luck were upon the premises. A little
before four we arrived at the pit, divided the remainder of
the booty, as equally as might be, among us, and, leaving
the holes unfilled, again set out for the hut, at which, for
the second time, we deposited our golden burdens, just as
the first streaks of the dawn gleamed from over the tree—
tops in the East.
We were now thoroughly broken down; but the intense
excitement of the time denied us repose. After an un-
quiet slumber of some three or four hours’ duration, we
arose, as if by preconcert, to make examination of our
treasure.
The chest had been full to the brim, and we spent the
whole day, and the greater part of the next night, in a
scrutiny of its contents. There had been nothing like
order or arrangement. Everything had been heaped in
promiscuously. Having assorted all with care, we found
ourselves possessed of even vaster wealth than we had at
first supposed. In coin there was rather more than four
hundred and fifty thousand dollars; estimating the value
of the pieces, as accurately as we could, by the tables of
the period. There was not a particle of silver. All was
gold of antique date and of great variety; French, Spanish,
and German money, with a few English guineas, and
some counters, of which we had never seen specimens be-
fore. There were several very large and heavy coins, so
worn that we could make nothing of their inscriptions.
There was no American money. The value of the jewels
we found more difficulty in estimating. There were dia-
monds—some of them exceedingly large and fine— a
hundred and ten in all, and not one of them small ; eight-


The Gold-Bug 29
een rubies of remarkable brilliancy; three hundred and
ten emeralds, all very beautiful; and twenty-one sapphires,
with an opal. These stones had all been broken from
their settings and thrown loose in the chest. The set-
tings themselves, which we picked out from among the
other gold, appeared to have been beaten up with ham-
mers, as if to prevent identification. Besides all this,
there was a vast quantity of solid gold ornaments: nearly
two hundred massive finger and ear rings; rich chains —
thirty of these, if I remember; eighty-three very large
and heavy crucifixes; five gold censers of great value; a
prodigious golden punch-bowl, ornamented with richly
chased vine-leaves and Bacchanalian figures; with two
sword-handles exquisitely embossed, and many other
smaller articles which I cannot recollect. The weight of
these valuables exceeded three hundred and fifty pounds
avoirdupois ; and in this estimate I have not included one
hundred and ninety-seven superb gold watches; three of
the number being worth each five hundred dollars, if one.
Many of them were very old, and as time-keepers value—
less, the works having suffered more or less from corro—
sion; but all were richly jewelled and in cases of great
worth. We estimated the entire contents of the chest,
that night, at a million and a half of dollars; and, upon
the subsequent disposal of the trinkets and jewels (a few
being retained for our own use), it was found that we had
greatly undervalued the treasure.
When, at length, we had concluded our examination,
and the intense excitement of the time had in some meas-
ure subsided, Legrand, who saw that I was dying with
impatience for a solution of this most extraordinary rid-


The Gold-Bug 31
now, was mere surprise at the really remarkable similar-
ity of outline—at the singular coincidence involved in
the fact that, unknown to me, there should have been a
skull upon the other side of the parchment, immediately
beneath my figure of the scarabteus, and that this skull,
not only in outline, but in size, should so closely resemble
my drawing. I say the singularity of this coincidence
absolutely stupefied me for a time. This is the usual
effect of such coincidences. The mind struggles to es-
tablish a connection—a sequence of cause and effect—
and, being unable to do so, suffers a species of temporary
' paralysis. But, when I recovered from this stupor, there
dawned upon me gradually a conviction which startled
me even far more than the coincidence. I began dis-
tinctly, positively, to remember that there had been no
drawing on the parchment when I made my sketch of the
scarabams. I became perfectly certain of this; for I
recollected turning up first one side and then the other,
in search of the cleanest spot. Had the skull been then
there, of course I could not have failed to notice it. Here
was indeed a mystery which I felt it impossible to ex-
plain; but, even at that early moment, there seemed to
glimmer, faintly, within the most remote and secret cham-
bers of my intellect, a glow-worm-like conception of that
truth which last night’s adventure brought to so magnifi-
cent a demonstration. I arose at once, and, putting the
parchment securely away, dismissed all further reflection
until I should be alone.
“When you had gone, and when Jupiter was fast
asleep, I betook myself to a more methodical investigation
of the affair. In the first place I considered the manner


The Gold-Bag 33
purpose of making a sketch of the beetle, I found no paper
where it was usually kept. I looked in the drawer, and
found none there. I searched my pockets, hoping to find
an old letter, and then my hand fell upon the parchment.
I thus detail the precise mode in which it came into my
possession; for the circumstances impressed me with pe-
culiar force.
“ No doubt you will think me fanciful — but I had al—
ready established a kind of connection. I had put to-
gether two links of a great chain. There was a boat lying
on a seacoast, and not far from the boat was a parchment
—not a paper—with a skull depicted on it. You will,
of course, ask ‘where is the connection?’ I reply that
the skull, 0r death’s-head, is the well-known emblem of the
pirate. The flag of the death’s-head is hoisted in all en-
gagements.
“ I have said that the scrap was parchment, and not
paper. Parchment is durable —— almost imperishable.
Matters of little moment are rarely consigned to parch-
ment; since, for the mere ordinary purposes of drawing
or writing, it is not nearly so well adapted as paper.
This reflection suggested some meaning—some rele-
vancy—in the death’s-head. I did not fail to observe,
also, the form of the parchment. Although one of its
corners had been, by some accident, destroyed, it could
be seen that the original form was oblong. It was just
such a slip, indeed, as might have been chosen for a memo-
randum—for a record of something to be long remem—
bered and carefully preserved.”
“ But,” I interposed, “ you say that the skull was not
upon the parchment when you made the drawing of the


34 Mystery Tales
beetle. How then do you trace any connection between
the boat and the skull -— since this latter, according to your
own admission, must have been designed (God only knows
how or by whom) at some period subsequent to your
sketching the scarabwus? ”
“. Ah, hereupon turns the whole mystery; although the
secret, at this point, I had comparatively little difficulty
in solving. My steps were sure, and could afford but a
single result. I reasoned, for example, thus: When I
drew the scarabwus, there was no skull apparent on the
parchment. When I had completed the drawing I gave
it to you, and Observed you narrowly until you returned it.
You, therefore, did not design the skull, and no one else
was present to do it. Then it was not done by human
agency. And nevertheless it was done.
“At this stage of my reflections I endeavored to re-
member, and did remember, with entire distinctness, every
incident which occurred about the period in question.
The weather was chilly (O rare and happy accident I), and
a fire was blazing on the hearth. I was heated with ex-
ercise and sat near the table. You, however, had drawn
a chair close to the chimney. Just as I placed the parch-
ment in your hand, and as you were in the act of inspecting
it, Wolf, the Newfoundland, entered, and leaped upon your
shoulders. With your left hand you caressed him and
kept him off, while your right, holding the parchment,
was permitted to fall listlessly between your knees, and in
Close proximity to the fire. At one moment I thought
the blaze had caught it, and was about to caution you, but,
before I could speak, you had withdrawn it, and were
engaged in its examination. When I considered all these


The Gold-Bug 35
particulars, I doubted not for a moment that heat had
been the agent in bringing to light, on the parchment,
the skull which I saw designed on it. You are well aware
that chemical preparations exist, and have existed time
out of mind, by means of which it is possible to write
on either paper or vellum, so that the characters shall
become visible only when subjected to the action of fire.
Zafire, digested in aqua regia, and diluted with four times
its weight Of water, is sometimes employed; a green tint
results. The regulus of cobalt, dissolved in spirit of '
nitre, gives a red. These colors disappear at longer or
shorter intervals after the material written upon cools, but
again become apparent upon the re-application of heat.
“ I now scrutinized the death’s—head with care. Its
outer edges —the edges of the drawing nearest the edge
of the vellum—were far more distinct than the others.
It was clear that the action of the caloric had been im-
perfect or unequal. I immediately kindled a fire, and
subjected every portion of the parchment to a glowing
heat. At first, the only effect was the strengthening of
the faint lines in the skull; but, on persevering in the ex-
periment, there became visible at the corner of the slip,
diagonally opposite to the spot in which the death’s-head
was delineated, the figure of what I at first supposed to
be a goat. A closer scrutiny, however, satisfied me that
it was intended for a kid.”
“ Ha! ha! ” said I, “ to be sure I have no right to laugh
at you— a million and a half of money is too serious a
matter for mirth —but you are not about to establish a
third link in your chain; you will not find any especial
connection between your pirates and a goat; pirates, you


36 Mystery Tales
know, have nothing to do with goats; they appertain to the
farming interest.”
“ But I have just said that the figure was not that of
a goat.” '
“ Well, a kid, then — pretty much the same thing.”
“ Pretty much, but not altogether,” said Legrand.
“ You may have heard of one Captain Kidd. I at once
looked on the figure of the animal as a kind of punning
or hieroglyphical signature. I say signature; because its
position on the vellum suggested this idea. The death’s-
head at the corner diagonally opposite had, in the same
manner, the air of a stamp, or seal. But I was sorely put
out by the absence of all else— of the body to my imag—
ined instrument — of the text for my context.”
“ I presume you expected to find a letter between the
stamp and the signature.”
“Something of that kind. The fact is, I felt irre-
sistibly impressed with a presentiment of some vast good
fortune impending. I can scarcely say why. Perhaps,
after all, it was rather a desire than an actual belief; ——
but do you know that Jupiter’s silly words, about the bug
being of solid gold, had a remarkable effect on my fancy?
And then the series of accidents and coincidences — these
were so very extraordinary. Do you observe how mere
an accident it was that these events should have occurred
on the sole day of all the year in which it has been, or
may be, sufficiently cool for fire, and that without the
fire, or without the intervention of the dog at the precise
moment in which he appeared, I should never have become
aware of the death’s-head, and so never the possessor of
the treasure? ”


The Gold-Bug 37
“ But proceed — I am all impatience.”
“Well; you have heard, of course, the many stories
current— the thousand vague rumors afloat about money
buried, somewhere on the Atlantic coast, by Kidd and his
associates. These rumors must have had some foundation
in fact. And that the rumors have existed so long and
so continuously, could have resulted, it appeared to me,
only from the circumstance of the buried treasure still
remaining entombed. Had Kidd concealed his plunder
for a time, and afterwards reclaimed it, the rumors would
scarcely have reached us in their present unvarying form.
You will observe that the stories told are all about money-
seekers, not about money-finders. Had the pirate re-
covered his money, there the afi'air would have dropped.
It seemed to me that some accident— say the loss of a
memorandum indicating its locality—had deprived him
of the means of recovering it, and that this accident had
become known to his followers, who otherwise might
never have heard that treasure had been concealed at all,
and who, busying themselves in vain, because unguided,
attempts to regain it, had given first birth, and then uni-
versal currency, to the reports which are now so common.
Have you ever heard of any important treasure being un-
earthed along the coast? ”
“ Never,”
“But that Kidd’s accumulations were immense is well
known. I took it for granted, therefore, that the earth
still held them; and you will scarcely be surprised when
I tell you that I felt a hope, nearly amounting to cer-
tainty, that the parchment so strangely found involved a
lost record of the place of deposit.”


38 Mystery Tales
“ But how did you proceed? ”
“ I held the vellum again to the fire, after increasing
the heat; but nothing appeared. I now thought it possible
that the coating of dirt might have something to do with
the failure; so I carefully rinsed the parchment by pour-
ing warm water over it, and, having done this, I placed
it in a tin pan, with the skull downwards, and put the
pan upon a furnace of lighted charcoal. In a few min-
utes, the pan having become thoroughly heated, I removed
the slip, and, to my inexpressible joy, found it spotted,
in several places, with what appeared to be figures ar-
ranged in lines. Again I placed it in the pan, and suf-
fered it to remain another minute. Upon taking it off,
the whole was just as you see it now.”
Here Legrand, having re-heated the parchment, sub-
mitted it to my inspection. The following characters were
rudely traced, in a red tint, between the death’s-head and
the goat: —
5311T305))6*;4826)41.)41);806*;48181[60))85;;]8*;:t*
8183(88)5*t;46( ;88*96*?;8)*1 ( ;485) ;5*12 1*1( ;4956*2(5*
_4.)s'[[s* ;4069285) ;)61‘8)411;1(19;48081;8:811;48185;4)4
851'528806*81(19;48;(88;4(1?34;48)4I;161;:188;1?;
“ But,” said I, returning him the slip, “I am as much
in the dark as ever. Were all the jewels of Golconda
awaiting me on my solution of this enigma, I am quite sure
that I should be unable to earn them.”
“And yet,” said Legrand, “the solution is by no means
so difficult as you might be led to imagine from the first
hasty inspection of the characters. These characters, as


The Gold-Bag 39
any one might readily guess, form a cipher—that is to
say, they convey a meaning; but then, from what is known
of Kidd, I could not suppose him capable of constructing
any of the more abstruse cryptographs. I made up my
mind, at once, that this was of a simple species—such,
however, as would appear, to the crude intellect of the
sailor, absolutely insoluble without the key.”
“ And you really solved it?”
“Readily; I have solved others of an abstruseness ten
thousand times greater. Circumstances, and a certain
bias of mind, have led me to take interest in such riddles,
and it may well be doubted whether human ingenuity
can construct an enigma of the kind which human in-
genuity may not, by proper application, resolve. In fact,
having once established connected and legible characters,
I scarcely gave a thought to the mere difficulty of develop-
ing their import.
“ In the present case—indeed in all cases of secret
writing—the first question regards the language of the
cipher; for the principles of solution, so far, especially,
as the more simple ciphers are concerned, depend on, and
are varied by, the genius of the particular idiom. In
general, there is no alternative but experiment (directed
by probabilities) of every tongue known to him who at-
tempts the solution, until the true one be attained. But,
with the cipher now before us, all difliculty is removed
by the signature. The pun upon the word ‘ Kidd ’ is ap-
preciable in no other language than the English. But for
this consideration I should have begun my attempts with
the Spanish and French, as the tongues in which a secret


40 Mystery Tales
of this kind would most naturally have been written by a
pirate of the Spanish main. As it was, I assumed the
cryptograph to be English.
“ You observe there are no divisions between the words.
Had there been divisions, the task would have been com-
paratively easy. In such case I should have commenced
with a collation and analysis of the shorter words, and,
had a word of a single letter occurred, as is most likely
(a or I, for example), I should have considered the solu-
tion as assured. But, there being no division, my first
step was to ascertain the predominant letters, as well as
the least frequent. Counting all, I constructed a table,
thus:
Of the character 8 there are 34
; ‘5
4 “ 19
) (i
I “
* (I
5 “ 12
6 “ 11
( (6 9
1. “ 8
1 “ '7
0 “ 6
9 2 “ 5
i: 3 “ 4
? “ 3
n u 2
] __ fl 1
“ Now, in English, the letter which most frequently oc-


The Gold-Bug 41
curs is e. Afterwards the succession runs thus: a o i d h
nrstuycfglmwbkpqxz. Epredominates,how-
ever, so remarkably that an individual sentence of any
length is rarely seen, in which it is not the prevailing char-
acter.
“ Here, then, we have, in the very beginning, the ground-
work for something more than a mereguess. The general
use which may be made of the table is obvious ——but, in
this particular cipher, we shall only very partially require
its aid. As our predominant character is 8, we will com-
mence by assuming it as the e of the natural alphabet.
To verify the supposition, let us observe if the 8 be seen
often in couples — for e is doubled with great frequency
in English — in such words, for example, as ‘ meet,’
‘fleet,’ ‘ speed,’ ‘ seen,’ ‘been,’ ‘ agree,’ &c. In the pres-
ent instance we see it doubled no less than five times, al-
though the cryptogram is brief.
“ Let us assume 8, then, as e. Now, of all words in
the language, ‘the ’ is most usual; let us see, therefore,
whether there are not repetitions of any three characters,
in the same order of collocation, the last of them being
8. If we discover repetitions of such letters, so arranged,
they will most probably represent the word ‘ the.’ On
inspection, we find no less than seven such arrangements,
the characters being ;48. We may, therefore, assume
that the semicolon represents t, that 4 represents h, and
that 8 represents 6 —-the last being now well confirmed.
Thus a great step has been taken.
“ But, having established a single word, we are enabled
to establish a vastly important point; that is to say, sev‘
eral commencements and terminations of other words.


42 Mystery Tales
Let us refer, for example, to the last instance but one, in
which the combination ;48 occurs — not far from the end
of the cipher. We know that the semicolon immediately
ensuing is the commencement of a word, and, of the six
characters succeeding this ‘ the,’ we are cognizant of no
less than five. Let us set these characters down, thus, by
the letters we know them to represent, leaving a space for
the unknown —
t eeth.
“ Here we are enabled, at once, to discard the ‘ th,’ as
forming no portion of the word commencing with the first
i; since, by experiment of the entire alphabet for a letter
adapted to the vacancy, we perceive that no word can
be formed of which this th can be a part. We are thus
narrowed into
t es,
and, going through the alphabet, if necessary, as before, we
arrive at the word ‘ tree ’ as the sole possible reading. We
thus gain another letter, 1', represented by (, with the
words ‘the tree ’ in juxtaposition.
“ Looking beyond these words, for a short distance, we
again see the combination ;48, and employ it by way of
lamination to what immediately precedes. We have thus
this arrangement:
the tree ;4(1 ?34 the,
or, substituting the natural letters, where known, it reads
thus:
I the tree thr1?3h the.


The Gold-Bag 43
“ Now, if, in place of the unknown characters, we leave
blank spaces, or substitute dots, we read thus:
the tree thr. . .h the,
when the word ‘through ’ makes itself evident at once.
But this discovery gives us three new letters, 0, u, and g,
represented by 1: ? and 3.
“ Looking now, narrowly, through the cipher for combi-
nations of known characters, we find, not very far from the
beginning, this arrangement,
83 (88, or egree,
which, plainly, is the conclusion of the word ‘ degree,’ and
gives us another letter, d, represented by 1'.
“ Four letters beyond the word ‘ degree,’ we perceive the
combination
;46( ;ss*.
“ Translating the known characters, and representing
the unknown by dots as before, we read thus:
th .rtee.
an arrangement immediately suggestive of the word ‘ thir-
teen,’ and again furnishing us with two new characters, 11
and n, represented by 6 and *.
“ Referring, now, to the beginning of the cryptograph,
we find the combination,
5311+-
“ Translating, as before, we obtain
. good,


44 Mystery Tales
which assures us that the first letter is A, and that the first
two words are ‘ A good.’
“ To avoid confusion, it is now time that we arrange
our key, as far as discovered, in a. tabular form. It will
stand thus:
represents
(K
5 a
d
g “ e
3 ‘6
I “ i
6 “ i
* s: n
(C 0
g . I
; t
“
“ We have, therefore, no less than ten of the most im-
portant letters represented, and it will be unnecessary to
proceed with the details of the solution. I have said
enough to convince you that ciphers Of this nature are
readily soluble, and to give you some insight into the
rationale of their development. But be assured that the
specimen before us appertains to the very simplest species
of cryptograph. It now only remains to give you the full
translation of the characters upon the parchment, as un-
riddled. Here it is:
“ ’A good glass in the bishop’s hostel in the devil’s seat
twenty-one degrees and thirteen minutes northeast and
by north main branch seventh limb east side shoot from
the left eye of the death’s-head a bee-line from the tree
through the shot fifty feet out.’ ”
“ But,” said I, “ the enigma seems still in as bad a con-


The Gold-Bug , .45
dition as ever. How is it possible to extort a meaning
from all this jargon about ‘ devil’s seats,’ ‘ death’s-heads,’
and ‘ bishop’s hotels ’ ? ”
“I confess,” replied Legrand, “that the matter still
wears a serious aspect, when regarded with a casual glance.
My first endeavor was to divide the sentence into the
natural division intended by the cryptographist.”
“ You mean, to punctuate it? ”
I “ Something of that kind.”
“ But how was it possible to effect this? ”
“ I reflected that it had been a point with the writer
to run his words together without division, so as to in-
crease the difficulty of solution. Now, a not over-acute
man, in pursuing such an object, would be nearly certain
to overdo the matter. .W hen, in the course of his com-
position, he arrived at a break in his subject which would
naturally require a pause, or a point, he would be ex-
ceedingly apt to run his characters, at this place, more
than usually close together. If you will observe the MS,
in the present instance, you will easily detect five such
places of unusual crowding. Acting on this hint, I made
the division thus:
“ ‘ A good glass in the Bishop’s hostel in the Devil’s seat
—twenty-one degrees and thirteen minutes—northeast
and by north—main branch seventh limb east side——
shoot from the left eye of the death’s—head—a bee-line
from the tree through the shot fifty feet out.’ ”
“ Even this division,” said I, “leaves me still in the
dark.”
“It left me also in the dark,” replied Legrand, “for
a few days, during which I made diligent inquiry, in the


46 Mystery Tales
neighborhood of Sullivan’s Island, for any building which
went by the name of the ‘ Bishop’s Hotel ’; for, of course,
I dropped the obsolete word ‘hostel.’ Gaining no infor-
mation on the subject, I was on the point of extending
my sphere of search, and proceeding in a more systematic
manner, when one morning it entered my head, quite sud-
denly, that this ‘ Bishop’s Hostel’ might have some refer-
ence to an old family, of the name of Bessop, which, time
out of mind, had held possession of an ancient manor-
house, about four miles to the northward of the island.
I accordingly went over to the plantation, and reinstituted
my inquiries among the older negroes of the place. At
length one of the most aged of the women said that she
had heard of such a place as Bessop’s Castle, and thought
that she could guide me to it, but that it was not a castle,
nor a tavern, but a high rock.
“I offered to pay her well for her trouble, and, after
some demur, she consented to accompany me to the spot.
We found it without much difficulty, when, dismissing her,
I proceeded to examine the place. The ‘ castle ’ consisted
of an irregular assemblage of cliffs and rocks —— one of the
latter being quite remarkable for its height as well as for
its insulated and artificial appearance. I clambered to
its apex, and then felt much at a loss as to what shOuld be
next done. ~ ~
“ While I was busied in reflection, my eyes fell on a
narrow ledge in the eastern face of the rock, perhaps a
yard below the summit upon which I stood. This ledge
projected about eighteen inches, and was not more than a
foot wide, while a niche in the clifi just above it gave it
a rude resemblance to one of the hollow-backed chairs used


The Gold-Bug 47
by our ancestors. I made no doubt that here was the
‘ devil’s seat ’ alluded to in the MS., and now I seemed to
grasp the full secret of the riddle.
“The ‘good glass,’ I knew, could have reference to
nothing but a telescope; for the word ‘ glass ’ is rarely em-
ployed in any other sense by seamen. Now here, I at
once saw, was a telescope to be used, and a definite point of
view, admitting no variation, from which to use it. Nor
did I hesitate to believe that the phrases, ‘ twenty-one de-
grees and thirteen minutes,’ and ‘ northeast and by north,’
were intended as directions for the leveling of the glass.
Greatly excited by these discoveries, I hurried home, pro—
cured a telescope, and returned to the rock.
“ I let myself down to the ledge, and found that it was
impossible to retain a seat on it unless in one particular
position. This fact confirmed my preconceived idea. I
proceeded to use the glass. Of course, the ‘ twenty-one
degrees and thirteen minutes ’ could allude to nothing but
elevation above the visible horizon, since the horizontal
direction was clearly indicated by the words, ‘northeast
and by north.’ This latter direction I at once established
by means of a. pocket-compass; then, pointing the glass
as nearly at an angle of twenty-one degrees of elevation
as I could do it by guess, I moved it cautiously up or
down, until my attention was arrested by a circular rift
or opening in the foliage of a large tree that overtopped
its fellows in the distance. In the centre of this rift I
perceived a white spot, but could not, at first, distinguish
what it was. Adjusting the focus of the telescope, I again
looked, and now made it out to be a human skull.
“ On this discovery I was so sanguine as to consider


48 Mystery Tales
the enigma solved; for the phrase ‘ main branch, seventh
limb, east side,’ could refer only to the position of the
skull on the tree, while ‘ shoot from the left eye of the
death’s-head’ admitted, also, of but one interpretation,
in regard to a search for buried treasure. I perceived that
the design was to drop a bullet from the left eye of the
skull, and that a bee-line, or, in other words, a straight
line, drawn from the nearest point of the trunk through
‘ the shot ’ (or the spot where the bullet fell), and thence
extended to a distance of fifty feet, would indicate a defi-
nite point— and beneath this point I thought it at least
possible that a deposit of value lay concealed.”
“ All this,” I said, “ is exceedingly clear, and, although
ingenious, still simple and explicit. When you left the
‘ Bishop’s Hotel,’ what then? ”
“ Why, having carefully taken the bearings of the tree,
I turned homewards. The instant that I left ‘ the devil’s
seat,’ however, the circular rift vanished; nor could I get
a glimpse of it afterwards, turn as I would. What seems
to me the chief ingenuity in this whole business, is the
fact (for repeated experiment has convinced me it is a
fact) that the circular opening in question is visible from
no other attainable point of view than that afforded by the
narrow ledge on the face of the rock.
“ In this expedition to the ‘ Bishop’s Hotel’ I had been
attended by Jupiter, who had no doubt observed, for
some weeks past, the abstraction of my demeanor, and
took especial care not to leave me alone. But, on the
next day, getting up very early, I contrived to give him
the slip, and went into the hills in search of the tree.
After much toil I found it. When I came home at night


The Gold-Bag 49
my valet proposed to give me a flogging. With the rest
of the adventure I believe you are as well acquainted as
myself.”
“ I suppose,” said I, “ you missed the spot, in the first
attempt at digging, through Jupiter’s stupidity in letting
the bug fall through the right instead of through the left
eye of the skull.”
“Precisely. This mistake made a difference of about
two inches and a half in the ‘ shot ’— that is to say, in
the position of the peg nearest the tree; and had the treas-
ure been beneath the ‘ shot,’ the error would have been
of little moment; but the ‘ shot,’ together with the nearest
point of the tree, were merely two points for the estab-
lishment of a line of direction; of course the error, how-
ever trivial in the beginning, increased as we proceeded
with the line, and, by the time we had gone fifty feet,
threw us quite off the scent. But for my deep—seated con—
victions that treasure was here somewhere actually buried,
we might have had all our labor in vain.”
“ I presume the fancy of the skull—Of letting fall a
bullet through the skull’s eye—was suggested to Kidd
by the piratical flag. No doubt he felt a kind of poetical
consistency in recovering his money through this ominous
insignium.”
“ Perhaps so; still, I cannot help thinking that common-
sense had quite as much to do with the matter as poetical
consistency. To be visible from the devil’s seat, it was
necessary that the object, if small, should be white; and
there is nothing like your human skull for retaining and
even increasing its whiteness under exposure to all vicissi-
tudes of weather.”


50 Mystery Tales
“But your grandiloquence, and your conduct in swing-
ing the beetle—how excessively odd! I was sure you
were mad. And why did you insist on letting fall the bug,
instead of a bullet, from the skull ? ”
“Why, to be frank, I felt somewhat annoyed by your
evident suspicions touching my sanity, and so resolved to
punish you quietly, in my own way, by a little bit of
sober mystification. For this reason I swung the beetle,
and for this reason I let it fall from the tree. An obser-
vation of yours about its great weight suggested the latter
idea.”
“ Yes, I perceive; and now there is only one point which
puzzles me. What are we to make of the skeletons found
in the hole? ”
“ That is a question I am no more able to answer than
yourself. There seems, however, only one plausible way
of accounting for them — and yet it is dreadful to believe
in such atrocity as my suggestion would imply. It is
clear that Kidd — if Kidd indeed secreted this treasure,
which I doubt not—it is clear that he must have had
assistance in the labor. But, the worst of this labor con-
cluded, he may have thought it expedient to remove all
participants in his secret. Perhaps a couple of blows with
a mattock were sufficient, while his coadjutors were busy
in the pit; perhaps it required a dozen — who shall tell 2 ”


l
li


THE LAST BUCCANEER
LORD MACAULAY
THE winds were yelling, the waves were swelling,
The sky was black and drear,
When the crew with eyes of flame brought the ship without
a name
Alongside the last Buccaneer.
51


52 Mystery Tales
“ Whence flies your sloop full sail before so fierce a gale,
When all others drive bare on the seas?
Say, come ye from the shore of the holy Salvador,
Or the gulf of the rich Caribbees? ”
“ From a shore no search hath found, from a gulf no line
can sound,
Without rudder or needle we steer;
Above, below, our bark dies the sea-fowl and the shark,
As we fly by the last Buccaneer.
“ To-night there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape de
Verde
A loud crash, and a louder roar; ‘
And to-morrow shall the deep, with a heavy moaning,
sweep
The corpses and wreck to the shore.”
The stately ship of Clyde securely now may ride
In the breath of the citron shades;
And Severn’s towering mast securely now flies fast,
Through the sea of the balmy Trades.
From St. J ago’s wealthy port, from Havana’s royal fort,
The seaman goes forth without fear;
For since that stormy night not a mortal hath had sight
Of the flag of the last Buccaneer.




“I s.
.- ’ i l
‘|' Lt
Milan
THE GOBLIN OF RUMMELSBURG
IJ-OHANN Aususr Musics
THERE wasyonce a wealthy merchant, Melchior of Bre—
men by name. Melchior had money in such plenty, that
he floored his dining-room all over with a coat of solid
dollars. But though this pomp was sharply censured by
his fellow-citizens, it was, in truth, directed more to trad-
ing speculation than to mere vain-glory. The cunning
Bremer easily observed, that those who grudged and
blamed this seeming vanity, would but diffuse the repu-
53


54 Mystery Tales
tation of his wealth, and so increase his credit. He gained
his purpose to the full; the sleeping capital of Old dol-
lars, so judiciously set up to public inspection in the par-
lor brought interest a hundredfold ; yet, at last, it became
a rock on which the welfare of his family made shipwreck.
Melchior of Bremen died of a surfeit at a city-feast,
without having time to set his house in order; and left
all his goods and chattels to an only son. Franz Melcher-
son was a brilliant youth, endued by nature with the best
capacities; but the father’s heritage, as often happens,
proved the ruin of the son. Scarce had he felt the joy
of being sole possessor and disposer of a large fortune,
when he set about endeavoring to get rid of it as of a
galling burden; went clothed in fine apparel and fared
sumptuously every day. No feast at the bishop’s court
could be compared for pomp and superfiuity with his;
and never while the town of Bremen shall endure, will
such another public dinner be consumed, as it yearly got
from him.
Some years passed on in an unceasing whirl of joviality
without the joyful Franz’s noticing a diminution in his
incomes; for at his father’s death every chest and coifer
had been full. There came a time, however, when
Melchior’s casks of gold were run off even to the lees, the
silver flooring of the dining—room had long since been sac-
rificed, and now at last his house, with its offices, gardens,
parks and furniture, was sold by public auction, and the
late owner judicially ejected.
By good fortune, Franz had picked some relics from the
wreck, a few small heirlooms of the family; and these se—
cured him for a time from absolute starvation.


The Goblin 0f Rummelsburg 55
Sobered by the results of his wasteful extravagance and
folly, he at length determined to journey to Antwerp in
the hope of calling in some considerable sums that were
due him there. He might then, he thought, commence
some little traffic, which his fancy soon extended over all
the quarters of the world. Already, in his mind’s eye,
he had vessels on the sea, which were freighted with his
property.
He proceeded rapidly to execute his purpose; changed
the last golden fragment of his heritage, his father’s
watch, or hour-egg, into money, and bought with it a rid-
ing nag, which was to hear him as a Bremen merchant out
into the wide world.
On approaching the ancient queen of the Flemish cities,
after a journey of several days, the sail of his hope was
swelled by a propitious breeze. Riches and superfluity
met him in every street; and it seemed as if scarcity and
want had been exiled from the busy town. In all prob-
ability, thought he, there must be many of my father’s
debtors who have risen again, and will gladly make me
full payment whenever I substantiate my claims.
But with the Antwerpers, he fared as his itinerating
countrymen do with shopkeepers in the German towns;
they find everywhere a friendly welcome at their first
appearance, but are looked upon with cheerfulness nowhere .
when they come collecting debts. Some would have noth-
ing to do with these former sins; and were of opinion, that
by the tender of the legal five per cent. composition they
had been entirely abolished. Others could not recollect
any Melchior of Bremen; opened their infallible books;
found no debtor-entry marked for this unknown name.


56 Mystery Tales
Others, again, brought out a strong counter-reckoning; and
'three days had not passed till Franz was sitting in the
debtors’ ward, to answer for his father’s credit, not to
depart till he had paid the uttermost farthing.
These were not the best prospects for the young man,
who had set his hope and trust upon the Antwerp patrons
of his fortune, and now saw the fair soap-bubble vanish
quite away. At bottom, however, it was not the object
of the barbarous Antwerpers to squeeze money from the
pretended debtor, but only to pay him none. It may be
that the supposed creditors were not desirous of support-
ing a superfluous boarder for life, for, true it is, that
after the lapse of three months Franz was delivered fr0m
his imprisonment, under the condition of leaving the
city within four-and-twenty hours, and never again setting
foot on the soil and territory of Antwerp. At the same
time, he received five crowns for traveling expenses from
the faithful hands of Justice, which had taken charge of
his horse and luggage in payment for judicial expenses.
With heavy-laden heart, in the humblest mood, with his
staff in his hand, he left the rich city, into which he had
ridden some time ago with high-soaring hopes. Broken
down, and undetermined what to do, or rather altogether
without thought, he plodded through the streets to the
nearest gate, not minding whither the road into which
chance conducted him might lead. He saluted no trav-
eler, he asked for no inn, except when fatigue or hunger
forced him to lift up his eyes, and look around for some
church-spire, or sign of human habitation, when he needed
human aid. Many days he had wandered on, as if un-


The Goblin 0f Rammelsburg 57
consciously; and a secret instinct had still, by means of
his uncrazed feet, led him right forward on the way to
home; when, all at once, he awoke as from an oppressive
dream, and perceived on what road he was traveling.
He halted instantly, to consider whether he should pro-
ceed or turn back. Shame and confusion took possession
of his soul, when he thought of skulking about in his native
town as a beggar, branded with the mark of contempt, and
claiming the charitable help of his townsmen, whom of
old he had eclipsed by his wealth and magnificence. He
did not leave his fancy time to finish this doleful picture;
but wheeled about to take the other road, as hastily as if
he had been standing even then at the gate of Bremen,
and the ragged apprentices had been assembling to accom-
pany him with gibes and mockery through the streets. His
purpose was formed; he would make for the nearest sea~
port in the Netherlands; engage as sailor in a Spanish
ship, to work his passage to the new world; and not return
to his country, till in the Peruvian land of gold he should
have regained the wealth, which he had squandered so
heedlessly, before he knew the worth of money.
Already he was on the Flemish soil once more; and found
himself at sunset not far from Rheinberg, in a little ham-
let, Rummelsburg by name. A caravan of carriers from
Lyke had already filled the inn, so that Mine Host had no
room left, and referred him to the next town. He was
forced, notwithstanding his excessive weariness, to gird
himself for march, and again to take his bundle on his
back. '
As in retiring, he was muttering between his teeth some
bitter complaints of the landlord’s hardness of heart, the


58 Mystery Tales
latter seemed to take some pity on the forlorn wayfarer,
and called after him, from the door: “ Stay, neighbor,
let me speak to you ; if you wish to rest here, I can accom-
modate you after all. In that castle there are empty rooms
enow, if they be not too lonely; it is not inhabited and I
have got the keys.” Franz accepted the proposal with joy,
praised it as a deed of mercy, and requested only shelter
and a supper, were it in a castle or a cottage. Mine Host,
however, was privily a rogue, whom it had galled to hear
the stranger drop some half-audible contumelies against
him, and meant to be avenged on him, by a hobgoblin
that inhabited the old fortress, and had many long years
before expelled the owners.
The castle lay hard by the hamlet, on a steep rock,
right opposite the inn, from which it was divided merely
by the highway, and a little gurgling brook. The situa-
tion being so agreeable, the edifice was still kept in repair,
and well provided with all sorts of house-gear; for it
served the owner as a hunting-lodge, where he frequently
caroused all day; and so soon as the stars began to twinkle
in the sky, retired with his whole retinue, to escape the
mischief of the ghost, who rioted about in it the whole
night over, but by day gave no disturbance. Unpleasant
as the owner felt this spoiling of his mansion by a bug-
bear, the nocturnal sprite was not without advantages,
for the great security it gave from thieves. The Count
could have appointed no trustier or more watchful keeper
over the castle, than this same spectre, for the rashest
troop of robbers never ventured to approach its station.
Accordingly he knew of no safer place for laying up his


The Goblin of Rammelsburg 59
valuables than this old tower in the hamlet of Rummels-
burg, near Bheinberg.
The sunshine had sunk, the dark night was coming
heavily on, when Franz, with a lantern in his hand, pro—
ceeded to the castle-gate, under the guidance of Mine Host,
who carried in his hand a basket of victuals, with a flask
of wine, which he said should not be marked against him.
He had also taken along with him a pair of candlesticks
and two wax-lights; for in the whole castle there was
neither lamp nor taper, as no one ever stayed in it after
twilight. Franz noticed the creaking heavy-laden basket,
and the wax—lights, which he thought he should not need,
and yet must pay for. Therefore he said, “ What is this
superfluity and waste, as at a banquet? The light in the
lantern is enough to see with, till I go to bed; and when
I awake, the sun will be high enough, for I am tired
completely, and shall sleep with both eyes.”
“ I will not hide from you,” replied the landlord, “ that
a story runs of there being mischief in the castle and a
goblin that frequents it. You, however, need not let the
thing disturb you; we are near enough, you see, for you
to call us, should you meet with aught unnatural; I and
my folks will be at your hand in a. twinkling, to assist
you. Down in the house there we keep astir all night
through, some one is always moving. I have lived here
these thirty years; yet I cannot say that I have ever seen
aught. If there be now and then a little hurly-burlying
at nights, it is nothing but cats and martins rummaging
about the granary. As a precaution, I have provided
you with candles. The night is no friend of man; and


60 Mystery Tales
the tapers are consecrated, so that sprites, if there be such
in the castle, will avoid their shine.”
It was no lying in Mine Host to say that he had never
seen anything of spectres in the castle; for by night he
had taken special care not once to set foot in it; and by
day the goblin did not come to sight. In the present case,
too, the traitor would not risk himself across the border.
After opening the door, he handed Franz the basket,
directed him what way to go, and wished him good night.
Franz entered the lobby without anxiety or fear, believ-
ing the ghost story to be empty tattle, or a distorted tradi-
tion of some real occurrence in the place, which idle fancy
had shaped into an unnatural adventure.
Pursuant to Mine H'ost’s direction, he ascended the
winding stone stair; and reached a bolted door, which he
opened with his key. A long dark gallery, where his foot-
steps resounded, led him into a large hall, and from this,
a side-door into a suite of apartments, richly provided
with all furniture for decoration or convenience. Out of
these he chose the room which had the friendliest aspect,
where he found a well-pillowed bed; and from the window
could look right down upon the inn, and catch every loud
word that was spoken there. He lit his wax-tapers, fur—
nished his table, and feasted with the commodiousness and
relish of an Otaheitean noble. So long as his teeth were in
full occupation, he had no time to think of the reported
devilry in the castle. If aught now and then made a stir
in the distance, and Fear called him, “ Hark! hark! there
' comes the goblin ” ; Courage answered, “ Stuff! it is cats
and martins bickering and caterwauling.” But in the di-
gestive half-hour after meat, when the sixth sense, that of


The Goblin of Rummelsbarg 61
hunger and thirst, no longer occupied the soul, she directed
her attention from the other five exclusively upon the
sense of hearing; and already Fear was whispering three
timid thoughts into the listener’s ear, before Courage had
time to answer once.
As the first resource, he looked the door, and bolted it;
made his retreat to the walled seat in the vault of the
window. ' He opened this and looked out on the spangled
sky, gazed at the corroded moon and counted how often
the stars snuffed themselves. On the road beneath him
all was void, and in spite of the pretended nightly bustle
in the inn, the doors were shut, the lights out, and every-
thing as still as in a sepulchre. On the other hand, the
watchman blew his horn, making his “ List, gentlemen! ”
sound over all the hamlet; and for the composure of the
timorous astronomer, who still kept feasting his eyes on
the splendor of the stars, uplifted a rusty evening-hymn
right under his window; so that Franz might easily have
carried on a conversation with him, which, for the sake of
company, he would willingly have done, had he in the
least expected that the watchman would make answer to
him.
Midnight is the hour at which the world of spirits
acquires activity and life. Franz inclined getting through
this critical hour in sleep rather than awake; so he closed
his window, went the rounds of his room once more, spy-
ing every nook and crevice, to see whether all was safe;
snuffed the lights to make them burn clearer; and with-
out undressing or delaying, threw himself upon his bed,
with which his wearied person felt unusual satisfaction.
Yet he could not get asleep so fast as he wished. A slight


62 Mystery Tales
palpitation of the heart kept him waking for a while; and
he failed not to employ this respite in offering up such a
pithy evening prayer as he had not prayed for many years.
This produced the usual effect, that he softly fell asleep
while saying it.
After about an hour, as he supposed, he started up with
a sudden terror. He was broad awake; he listened
whether all was quiet, and heard nothing but the clock
strike twelve. Franz listened for a while, turned on the
other side, and was again about to sleep, when he caught,
as it were, the sound of a door grating in the distance, and
immediately it shut with a stifled bang. “ Alakel
alake! ” bawled Fright into his ear; “ this is the ghost in
very deed!” “’Tis nothing but the wind,” said Cour-
age manfully. But quickly it came nearer, nearer, like
the sound of heavy footsteps. Clink here, clink there, as
if a criminal were rattling his irons, or as if the porter
were walking about the castle with his bunch of keys.
Alas, here was no wind business! Courage held his peace;
and quaking Fear drove all the blood to the heart, and
made it thump like a smith’s fore-hammer.
The thing was now beyond jesting. The quaking Franz
had recourse to the bed-clothes, the last fortress of the
timorous, and drew them close over his ears, as Bird Os-
trich sticks his head in the grass, when he can no longer
escape the huntsman. Outside it came along, door up,
door to, with hideous uproar; and at last it reached the
bed-room. It jerked sharply at the lock, tried several
keys till it found the right one; yet the bar still held the
door, till a bounce like a thunder-clap made bolt and
rivet start, and threw it wide open. Now stalked in a


The Goblin of Rammelsbarg 63
long, lean man, with a black beard, in ancient garb, and
with a gloomy countenance, his eyebrows hanging down
in deep earnestness from his brow. Over his right shoul-
der he had a scarlet cloak, and on his head he wore a
peaked hat. With a heavy step he walked thrice in silence
up and down the chamber; looked at the consecrated
tapers, and snuffed them that they might burn brighter.
Then he threw aside his cloak, girded on a scissor-pouch
which he had under it, produced a set of shaving-tackle,
and immediately began to whet a sharp razor on the broad
strap which he wore at his girdle.
Franz perspired in mortal agony under his coverlet;
recommended himself to the keeping of the Virgin; and
anxiously speculated on the object of this manoeuvre, not
knowing whether it was meant for his throat or his beard.
To his comfort, the goblin poured some water from a sil-
‘ver flask into a basin of silver, and with his skinny hand
lathered the soap into light foam; then set a chair and
beckoned with a solemn look to the quaking looker-on
to come forth from his recess.
Against so pertinent a sign, remonstrance was as boot-
less as it is against the rigorous commands of the Grand
Turk, when he transmits an exiled vizier to the Angel of
Death, the Capichi Bashi with the Silken Cord, to take
delivery of his head. The most rational procedure that
can be adopted in this critical case, is to comply with ne-
cessity, put a good face on a bad business, and with stoical
composure let one’s throat be noosed. Franz honored the
spectre’s order; the coverlet began to move, he sprang
sharply from his couch, and took the place pointed out to
him on the seat.


64 Mystery Tales
Immediately the goblin barber tied the towel about his
shivering customer ; seized the comb and scissors, and
clipped off his hair and beard. Then he soaped him sci—
entifically, first the beard, next the eyebrows, at last the
temples and the hind-head; and shaved him from throat
to nape as smooth and bald as a death’s-head. This op-
eration finished, he washed his head, dried it clean, made
his bow, and buttoned up his scissor-pouch; wrapped him-
self in his scarlet mantle and made for departing. The
consecrated tapers had burnt with an exquisite brightness
through the whole transaction; and Franz, by the light of
them, perceived in the mirror that the shaver had changed
him into a Chinese pagoda. In secret he heartily de—
plored the loss of his fair brown locks; yet now took fresh
breath, as he observed that with this sacrifice the account
was settled, and the ghost had no more power over him.
So it was in fact; Redcloak went towards the door,
silently as he had entered, without salutation or good-by;
and seemed entirely the contrast of his talkative guild-
brethren. But scarcely was he gone three steps, when he
paused, looked round with a mournful expression at his
well-served customer, and stroked the flat of his hand over
his black bushy beard. He did the same a second time,
and again just as he was in the act of stepping out at the
door. A thought struck Franz that the spectre wanted
something; and a rapid combination of ideas suggested
that perhaps he was expecting the very service he himself
had just performed.
As the ghost, notwithstanding his rueful look, seemed
more disposed for banter than for seriousness, and had
played his guest at scurvy trick, not done him any real in-


The Goblt'h of Rummelsburg 65
jury, the panic of the latter had now almost subsided. So
he ventured the experiment, and beckoned to the ghost to
take the seat from which he had himself just risen. The
goblin instantly obeyed, threw off his cloak, laid his barber
tackle on the table, and placed himself in the chair, in the
posture of a man that wishes to be shaved. Franz care-
fully observed the same procedure which the spectre had
observed to him, clipped his beard with the scissors, cropt
away his hair, lathered his whole scalp, and the ghost all
the while sat steady as a wig-block. The awkward jour-
neyman came ill at handling the razor; he had never had
another in his hand; and he shore the beard right against
the hair ; whereat the goblin made as strange grimaces as
Erasmus’s ape, when imitating its master’s shaving. Nor
was the unpracticed bungler himself well at ease, and he
thought more than once of the sage aphorism, What is not
thy trade make not thy business; yet he struggled through
the task, the best way he could, and scraped the ghost as
bald as he himself was.
Hitherto the scene between the spectre and the traveler
had been played pantomimically; the action now became
dramatic. “ Stranger,” said the ghost, “ accept my thanks
for the service thou hast done me. By thee I am deliv-
ered from the long imprisonment, which has chained me
for three hundred years within these walls; to which my
departed soul was doomed, till a mortal hand should con-
sent to retaliate on me what I practiced on others in my
lifetime.
“Know that of old a reckless scorner dwelt within this
tower. Count Hardman, such his name, practiced vain
caprice and waggery, regarding not the sacredness of hos-


66 Mystery Tales
pitable rights; the wanderer who came beneath his roof,
the needy man who asked a charitable alms of him, he
never sent away unvisited by wicked joke. I was his
castle barber and did whatever pleased him. Many a
pious pilgrim, journeying past us, I allured with friendly
speeches to the hall; prepared the bath for him, and when
he thought to take good comfort, shaved him smooth and
bald, and packed him out of doors. Then would Count
Hardman, looking from the window, see with pleasure how
the children gathered from the hamlet to assail the out-
cast, and to cry as once their fellows to Elisha: ‘ Bald-
head! Baldhead! ’
“ Once came a saintly man from foreign lands; he car-
ried, like a penitent, a heavy cross upon his shoulder, and
had stamped five nail-marks on his hands, and feet, and
side; upon his head there was a ring of hair like to the
crown of thorns. He called upon us here, requesting
water for his feet, and a small crust of bread. Immedi-
ately I took him to the bath, to serve him in my common
way; respected not the sacred ring, but shore it clean
from off him. Then the pious pilgrim spoke a heavy
malison upon me: ‘ Know, accursed man, that when thou
diest, Heaven, and Hell, and Purgatory’s iron gate, are
shut against thy soul. As goblin it shall rage within these
walls, till unrequired, unbid, a traveler come and exercise
retaliation on thee.’
“ That hour I sickened, and the marrow in my bones
dried up; I faded like a shadow. My spirit left the wasted
carcass, and was exiled to this castle, as the saint had
doomed it. In vain I struggled for deliverance from the
torturing bonds that fettered me to earth. Now self-tor-


The Goblin of Rummelsburg 67
menting, I pursued the mournful occupation I had fol-
lowed in my lifetime. Alas! my uproar soon made deso-
late this house! But seldom came a pilgrim here to
lodge. And though I treated all like thee, no one would
understand me, and perform, as thou, the service which
has freed my soul from bondage. Henceforth shall no
hobgoblin wander in this castle; I return to my long-
wished-for rest. And now, young stranger, once again
my thanks, that thou hast loosed me! Were I keeper of
deep-hidden treasures, they were thine; but wealth in life
was not my lot, nor in this castle lies there any cash en-
tombed. Yet mark my counsel. Tarry here till beard
and locks again shall cover chin and scalp; then turn thee
homewards to thy native town; and on the Weser bridge
of Bremen, at the time when day and night in autumn are
alike, wait for a friend, who there will meet thee, who
will tell thee what to do, that it be well with thee on earth.
If from the golden horn of plenty, blessing and abundance
flow to thee, then think of me; and ever as the day thou
freedst me from the curse comes round, cause for my
soul’s repose three masses to be said._ Now fare thee well.
I go, no more returning.”
With these words the ghost vanished into air, and left
his deliverer full of wonder at the strange adventure. He
stood for a long while motionless; in doubt whether the
whole matter had actually happened, or an unquiet dream
had deluded his senses; but his bald head convinced him
that here had been a real occurrence. He returned to
bed, and slept, after the fright he had undergone, till the
hour of noon. The treacherous landlord had been watch-
ing since morning, when the traveler with the scalp was


68 Mystery Tales
to come forth, that he might receive him with gibing
speeches under pretext of astonishment at his nocturnal
adventure. But as the stranger loitered too long, and mid-
day was approaching, the afl'air became serious; and Mine
Host began to dread that the goblin might have treated his
guest a little harshly, have beaten him to a jelly perhaps,
or so frightened him that he had died of terror; and to
carry his wanton revenge to such a length as this had not
been his intention. He therefore rang his people together,
hastened out with man and maid to the tower, and reached
the door of the apartment where he had observed the light
on the previous evening. He found an unknown key in
the look; but the door was barred within; for after the
disappearance of the goblin, Franz had again secured it.
He knocked with a perturbed violence, till the Seven
Sleepers themselves would have awoke at the din. Franz
started up, and thought in his first confusion that the
ghost was again standing at the door, to favor him with
another call. But hearing Mine Host’s voice, who re—
quired nothing more but that his guest would give some
sign of life, he gathered himself up and opened the room.
With seeming horror at the sight of him, Mine Host,
striking his hands together, exclaimed, “ By Heaven and
all the saints! Redcloak” (by this name the ghost was
known among them) “ has been here, and has shaved you
bald as a block! Now, it is clear as day that the old story
is no fable. But tell me how looked the goblin? What
did he say to you? What did he do? ”
Franz, who had now seen through the questioner, made
answer, “ The goblin looked like a man in a red cloak;
what he did is not hidden from you, and what he said I


The Goblin of Rammelsburg 69
well remember, ‘ Stranger,’ said he, ‘trust no innkeeper
who is a Turk in grain. What would befall thee here he
knew. Be wise and happy. I withdraw from this my
ancient dwelling, for my time is run. Henceforth no
goblin riots here; I now become a silent incubus, to plague
the landlord; nip him, tweak him, harass him, unless the
Turk do expiate his sin; do freely give thee prog and
lodging till brown locks again shall cluster round thy
head.’ ”
The landlord shuddered at these words, vowed to give
the traveler free board so long as he liked to continue, led
him over to his house, and treated him with the best. By
this adventure, Franz had well—nigh got the reputation of
a conjurer, as the spirit thenceforth never once showed
face. He often passed the night in the tower; and a des
perado of the village once kept him company, without hav-
ing beard or scalp disturbed. The owner of the place,
having learned that Redcloak no longer walked in Rum-
melsburg, was, of course, delighted at the news, and or—
dered that the stranger, who, as he supposed, had laid
him, should be well taken care of.
By the time when the clusters were beginning to be
colored on the vine, and the advancing autumn reddened
the apples, Franz’s brown locks were again curling over
his temples, and he girded up his knapsack; for all his
thoughts and meditations were turned upon the Weser
bridge, to seek the friend, who, at the behest of the goblin
barber, was to direct him how to make his fortune. When
about taking leave of Mine Host, that charitable person
led from his stable a horse well saddled and equipped,
which the owner of the castle had presented to the stranger,


70 Mystery Tales
for having made his house again habitable; nor had the
Count forgot to send a sufficient purse along with it, to
bear its traveling charges; and so Franz came riding back
into his native city, brisk and light of heart, as he had
ridden out of it twelve months before.
With unspeakable longing, he waited the equinox; his
impatience made every intervening day a year. At last
the long-wished-for term appeared. The night before, he
could not close an eye, for thinking of the wonders that
were coming. To ‘be sure of not missing his expected
friend, he rose by daybreak, and proceeded with the earliest
dawn to the Weser bridge, which as yet stood empty and
untrod by passengers. He walked along it several times
in solitude, while curiosity put a thousand questions to
reason in regard to the adventure. Who can the friend
be that is to meet me on the Weser bridge? Will it be
one of my old acquaintances, by whom, since my ruin, I
have been entirely forgotten? How will he pave the way
to me for happiness? And will this way be short or long,
easy or toilsome?
In about an hour, the bridge began to get awake; there
was riding, driving, Walking to and fro on it. The usual
day-guard of beggars also by degrees took up this post, so
favorable for their trade, to levy contributions on the
public benevolence. The first of the tattered cohort that
applied for alms to the jovial promenader was a discharged
soldier, provided with the military badge of a timber leg,
which had been lent him, seeing he had fought so stoutly
in former days for his native country, as the recompense
of his valor, with the privilege of begging where he pleased;
and who now pursued the study of man upon the Weser


The Goblin of Rummelsburg 71
- bridge, with such success, that he very seldom failed in
his attempts for charity. Nor did his exploratory glance
in anywise mislead him in the present instance; for Franz,
in the joy of his heart, threw a white engel-groschen into
the cripple’s hat.
During the morning hours, when none but the labori-
ous artisan is busy, and the more exalted townsman still
lies in sluggish rest, he scarcely looked for his promised
friend; he expected him in the higher classes, and took
little notice of the present passengers. About the council-
hour, however, when the Proceres of Bremen were driving
past to the hall, in their gorgeous robes of office, and about
exchange-time, he was all eye and ear; he spied the passen-
gers from afar; and when a right man came along the
bridge, his blood began to flutter, and he thought here was
the creator of his fortune. Meanwhile, hour after hour
passed on; the sun rose high; ere long the noontide brought
a pause in business; the rushing crowd faded away; and
still the expected friend appeared not.
In the afternoon, a thousand new faces once more came
abroad. The watcher was now tired of his unknown
friend’s delaying, yet hope still kept his attention on the
stretch. He stepped into the view of every passenger,
hoped that one of them would clasp him in his arms; but
all proceeded coldly on their way; the most did not observe
him at all, and few returned his salute with a slight nod.
The sun was already verging to decline, the shadows were
becoming longer, the crowd upon the bridge diminished,
and the beggars by degrees drew back into their barracks
in the Mattenburg. A deep sadness sank upon the hope-
less Franz, when he saw his expectation mocked, and the


The Goblin 0f Rummelsburg 73
which God reward you; but your countenance at night
was not so cheerful as in the morning, and that grieves my
heart.”
The kindly sympathy of this old warrior pleased the
misanthrope, so that he willingly pursued the conversa-
tion.
“Why, then,” answered he, “if thou wouldst know
what has made me battle here all day with tedium, thou
must understand that I was waiting for a friend, who ap-
pointed me hither, and now leaves me to expect in vain.”
“ Under favor,” answered Timbertoe, “ if I might speak
my mind, this friend of yours is little better than a rogue
to lead you such a dance. If he treated me so, by my
faith, his crown should get acquainted with my crutch
next time we met. If he could not keep his word, he
should have let you know, and not bamboozled you as if
you were a child.”
“ Yet I cannot altogether blame this friend,” said
Franz, “ for being absent; he did not promise; it was but
a dream that told me I should meet him here.”
The goblin-tale was too long for him to tell, so he veiled
it under cover of a dream.
“Ah! that is another story,” said the beggar, “if you
build on dreams, it is little wonder that your hope deceives
you. I myself have dreamed much foolish stuff in my
time; but I was never such a madman as to heed it. Had
I all the treasures that have been allotted to me in dreams,
I might buy the city of Bremen, were it sold by auction.
But I never credited a jot of them, or stirred hand or
foot to prove their worth or worthlessness; I knew well it
would be lost. Ha! I must really laugh in your face,


74 Mystery Tales
to think that on the order of an empty dream, you have
squandered a fair day of your life, which you might have
spent better at a merry banquet.” I
“ The issue shows that thou art right, Old man, and that
dreams many times deceive. But,” continued Franz, de-
fensively, “ I dreamed so vividly and circumstantially,
above three months ago, that on this very day, in this very
place, I should meet a friend, who would tell me things
of the deepest importance, that it was well worth while to
go and see'if it would come to pass.”
“ O, as for vividness,” said Timbertoe, “no man can
dream more vividly than I. There is one dream I had,
which I shalllnever in my life forget. I dreamed, who
knows how many years ago, that my Guardian Angel
stood before my bed in the figure of a youth, with golden
hair, and two silver wings on his back, and said to me,
‘ Berthold, listen to the words of my mouth, that none of
them be lost from thy heart. There is a treasure ap-
pointed thee, which thou shalt dig, to comfort thy heart
withal for the remaining days of thy life. TO—morrow
about evening, when the sun is going down, take spade
and shovel on thy shoulder; go forth from the Matten-
burg on the right, across the Tieber, by the Balkenbriicke,
past the Cloister of St. J ohn’s, and on to the Great Roland.
Then take thy way over the court of the cathedral through
the Schiisselkorb, till thou arrive without the city at a
garden, which has this mark, that a stair of three stone
steps leads down from the highway to its gate. Wait by
a side, in secret, till the sickle of the moon shall shine on
thee, then push with the strength of a man against the
weak-barred gate, which will resist thee little. Enter


The Goblin of Rummelsburg 75
boldly into the garden, and turn thee to the vine-trellises
which overhang the covered walk; behind this, on the left,
a tall apple-tree overtops the lowly shrubs. Go to the trunk
7 of this tree, thy face turned right against the moon; look
three ells before thee on the ground, thou shalt see two
cinnamon-rose bushes; there strike in, and dig three spans
deep, till thou find a stone plate; under this lies the treas-
ure, buried in an iron chest, full of money and money’s
worth. Though the chest be heavy and clumsy, avoid not
the labor of lifting it 'from its bed; it will reward thy
trouble well, if thou seek the key which lies hid be-
neath it.’ ”
In astonishment at what he heard, Franz stared and
gazed upon the dreamer, and could not have concealed his
amazement, had not the dusk of night been on his side.
By every mark in the description, he had recognized his
own garden, left him by his father. It had been the good
man’s hobby in his life; but on this account had little
pleased his son. Father Melchior had himself laid out
this garden, altogether to his own taste. He had not, it is
true, set up in it any painted menagerie for the deception
of the eye; but he kept a very large one, notwithstanding,
of springing-horses, winged-lions, eagles, griffins, unicorns
and other wondrous beasts, all stamped on pure gold, which
he carefully concealed from every eye, and had hid in
their iron case beneath the ground. This paternal gar-
den the wasteful son, in the days of his extravagance, had
sold for an old song. i
To Franz the pikeman had at once become extremely in-
teresting, as he perceived that this was the very friend to
whom the goblin in the castle of Rummelsburg had con-


The Goblin of Rummelsbarg 77
ried to the place a little before sunset, and hid them for
the meanwhile in a hedge; and as to the treasure itself,
he had the firm conviction that the goblin in the castle and
the friend on the bridge, would prove no liars to him.
With longing impatience he expected the rising of the
moon; and no sooner did she stretch her silver horns over
the bushes, than he briskly set to work, observing exactly
everything the old soldier had told him; and happily ac-
complished the raising of the treasure without meeting any
adventure in the process; without any black dog having
frightened him, or any bluish flame having lighted him
to the spot.
Father Melchior, in providently burying this penny for
a rainy day, had nowise meant that his son should be de-
prived of so considerable a part of his inheritance. On
the contrary, he had purposed when, old and full of days,
death should come to him, to call his beloved son to his
bed-side, there to give him the paternal blessing, and by
way of farewell memorial direct him to this treasure bur—
ied in the garden. But, dying suddenly, he undesignedly
took along with him his secret to the grave; and almost as
many fortunate concurrences were required before the se-
creted patrimony could arrive at the proper heir, as if it
had been forwarded to its address by the hand of Justice
itself.
With immeasurable joy the treasure-digger took pos-
session of the shapeless Spanish pieces, which, with a vast
multitude of other finer coins, the iron chest had faith-
fully preserved. When the first intoxication of delight
had in some degree evaporated, he bethought him how the
treasure was to be transported, safe and unobserved, into


78 Mystery Tales
the narrow alley where he lodged; for the burden was too
heavy to be carried without help. The new Croesus found
no better plan, than to intrust his capital to the hollow
trunk of a tree that stood behind the garden, in a meadow;
the empty chest he again buried under the rose-bush, and
smoothed the place as well as possible. In the space of
three days, the treasure had been faithfully transmitted
by instalments from the hollow tree into the narrow alley.
Franz now appeared once more on the Exchange; be—
gan a branch of trade which in a few weeks extended to a
great scale, and his wealth became daily more apparent.
He hired a large house in the market-place, engaged clerks
and warehousemen and carried on his trade unweariedly.
The remounting Melcherson became, in Bremen, the story
of the day; the fortune which in some inexplicable manner
he had realized, as was supposed, in foreign parts, was the
subject-matter of all conversations at formal dinners, in
the courts of justice and at the Exchange. Now the sor-
rowful populace of parasites again diligently handled the
knocker of his door; appeared in crowds and suffocated
him with assurances of friendship, and joy-wishings on
his fresh prosperity. But experience had taught him wis-
dom; he paid them in their own coin, feasted their false
friendship on smooth words, and dismissed them with
fasting stomachs, which sovereign means for scaring off
the cumbersome brood produced the intended effect, that
they betook them elsewhither.
He did not, however, forget the old soldier, though for
some time he delayed keeping his word to him. But one
night his walk was directed to the Weser bridge. Sharply
as Timbertoe, ever since his interview with the open-


.The Goblin 0f Rummelsbur_ 79
handed bridge-bailiff, had been on the outlook, he could
never catch a glimpse of him among the passengers, al-
though a second visit had been faithfully promised. Yet
the figure of his benefactor had not vanished from his mem-
ory. The moment he perceived the fair-appareled youth
from a distance, he stilted towards him, and gave him
kindly welcome. Franz answered his salutation, and said,
“ Friend, canst thou take a walk with me into the Neu-
stadt, to transact a small affair? Thy trouble shall not be
unpaid.”
“Ah; why not? ” replied the old soldier, “though I
have a wooden leg, I can step you with it right stoutly;
for it has this good property, it never tires. But excuse
me a little while till Graycloak is come; he never misses to
pass along the bridge between day and night.”
“ What of Graycloak? ” inquired Franz, “let me know
about him.”
“ Graycloak brings me daily about nightfall a silver
groschen, I know not from whom. It is of no use prying
into things, so I never mind. Sometimes it occurs to me
Graycloak must be the devil and means to buy my soul
with the money; but I did not strike him on the bargain,
so it cannot hold.”
“ I should not wonder,” answered Franz, with a smile,
“ if Graycloak were a piece of a knave. But do thou fol-
low me; the silver groschen shall not fail thee.”
Timbertoe set forth, hitched on briskly after his guide.
who conducted him up one street and down another, to a
distant quarter of the city, near the wall; then halted be
fore a neat little new-built house and knocked at the door.
When it was opened, “Friend,” said he, “thou madest


80 Mystery Tales
one evening of my life cheerful; it is just that I should
make the evening of thy life cheerful also. This house,
with its appurtenances and the garden where it stands, are
thine; kitchen and cellar are full; an attendant is ap-
pointed to wait upOn thee; and the silver groschen, over
and above, thou wilt find every noon lying under thy plate.
Nor will I hide from thee that Graycloak was my servant,
whom I sent to give thee daily an honorable alms, till I
had got this house made ready for thee.”
He then led the old man into his dwelling, where the
table was standing covered, and everything arranged for
his convenience and comfortable living. The grayhead
was so astonished at his fortune, that he could not under-
stand or even believe it. That a rich man should take
such pity on a poor one, was incomprehensible; he felt dis-
posed to take the whole affair for magic or jugglery, till
Franz removed his doubts. A stream of thankful tears
flowed down the old man’s cheeks; and his benefactor, sat-
isfied with this, did not wait till he should recover from his
amazement and thank him in words, but vanished from
the old man’s eyes, and left him to piece together the af-
fair as he best could.
As for Franz, his fortune and affluence continued to in~
crease and he became one of the most respected and influ-
ential citizens of Bremen.


LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI
J OHN Kmrs
“ O WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge is wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.
“ 0 what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done.
“ I see a lily on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.”
“ I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful —— a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
“I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She look’d at me as she did love;
And made sweet moan.
81


82
Mystery Tales
“ I set her on my pacing steed
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sideways would she lean, and sing
A faery’s song.
“ She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said,
‘ I love thee true! ’
“ She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept and sigh’d full sore;
And there I shut her wild, wild eyes
With kisses four.
“ And there she lulled me asleep,
And there I dream’d—Ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream’d
On the cold hill’s side.
“ I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who cried —‘ La belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thralll ’
“ I saw their starved lips in the gloam
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here
On the cold hill’s side.


La Belle Da/me Sans Merci
83
“ And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.”




THE BBL-KING
Jonamv WOLFGANG VON Gon'rrm
0, WHO rides by night thro’ the woodland so wild?
It is the fond father embracing his child;
And close the boy nestles within his loved arm,
To hold himself fast and to keep himself warm.
f “ O father, see yonder! see yonder! ” he says;
i“ My boy, upon what dost thou fearfully gaze? ”—
Q“ 0, ’tis the Erl-King with his crown and his shroud.”—
\ ‘f No, my son, it is but a dark wreath of the cloud.”
‘ “ 0, come and go with me, thou loveliest child;
By many a gay sport shall thy time be beguiled;
‘ 84


The Erl-Kt'hg I 85
My mother keeps for thee full many a fair toy,
And many a fine flower shall she pluck for my boy.”
0 father, my father, and did you not hear
P'The Erl-King whisper so low in my ear? ”—
“Be still, my heart’s darling—my child, be at ease;
It was but the wild blast as it sung thro’ the trees.”
“ O, wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy?
Q My daughter shall tend thee with care and with 0y ;
She shall bear thee so lightly thro’ wet and thro’ wild,
\And press thee and kiss thee and sing to my child.”
‘ O‘father, my father, and saw you not plain,
he Erl-King’s pale daughter glide past through the
rain Z ”—
\l) “ 0 yes, my loved treasure, I knew it full soon;
' It was the grey willow that danced to the moon.”
:f‘ 0, come and go with me, no longer delay,
Or else, silly child, I will drag thee away.”—
@ “ O father! 0 father! now, now keep your hold,
The Erl-King has seized me—his grasp is so cold! ”
“ix, Sore trembled the father; he spurred thro’ the wild,
Clasping close to his bosom his shuddering child;
‘ He reaches his dwelling in doubt and in dread,
But, clasped to his bosom, the infant was dead!


ST. SWITHIN’S CHAIR
SIB WALTER Scor'r
ON Hallow-Mass Eve, ere you boune ye to rest,
Ever beware that your couch be blessed;
Sign it with cross, and sain it with bead,
Sing the Ave and say the Creed.
For on Hallow-Mass Eve the Night-Hag will ride,
.And all her nine-fold sweeping on by her side,
Whether the wind sing lowly or loud,
Sailing through moonshine or swathed in the cloud.
The Lady she sate in St. Swithin’s Chair,
The dew of the night has damped her hair:
Her check was pale, but resolved and high
Was the word of her lip and the glance of her eye.
She muttered the spell of Swithin bold,
When his naked foot traced the midnight wold,
When he stopped the Hag as she rode the night,
And bade her descend and her promise plight.
He that dare sit on St. Swithin’s Chair
When the Night-Hag wings the troubled air,
Questions three, when he speaks the spell,
He may ask, and she must tell.
86


St. Swithin’s Chair 87
The Baron has been with King Robert his liege
These three long years in battle and siege;
News are there none of his weal or his woe,
And fain the Lady his fate would know.
She shudders and stops as the charm she speaks; ——
Is it the moody owl that shrieks?
Or is that sound, betwixt laughter and scream,
The voice of the Demon who haunts the stream?
The moan of the wind sunk silent and low,
And the roaring torrent had ceased to flow;
The calm was more dreadful than raging storm,
- When the cold grey mist brought the ghastly form!






THE SPECTRAL SHIP
WILHELM HAUFF
MY father occupied a little shop in Balsora. ~He was
neither very poor, nor very rich, and was one of those per-
sons who venture nothing, without great deliberation, for
fear of losing the little they possess. He brought me up
plainly and honestly, and it was not long before I was of
considerable assistance to him. When I was eighteen
88


The Spectral Ship 89
years old, and just at the time when he had made his first
really great speculation, he died, probably from anxiety at
having entrusted so large a sum as a thousand gold-pieces
to the treachery of the ocean. The result compelled me,
not long after, to regard him as happy in his death; for a
few weeks afterwards the news came that the ship, in which
my father had ventured his goods, had gone to the bottom.
But this misfortune could not break my youthful courage.
I turned everything which my father had possessed into
money, and set forth to try my fortune among strangers,
accompanied by only one aged servant, who, from old as-
sociations, refused to separate himself from my destinies.
We embarked at Balsora, with favorable winds. The
ship I had selected was bound for India. We had been
sailing for fifteen days on the usual course, when the cap-
tain gave us notice of the approach of a tempest. He
wore an air of great uneasiness, and confessed that, in
this locality, he was not well enough acquainted with the
true course to encounter a storm with indifference. He
took in all the sails, and we ploughed along very slowly.
The night had come on, clear and cold, and the captain
was already beginning to think that he had been deceived
in his anticipations, when suddenly a ship, which we had
not seen till now, came on close by us with great speed.
Wild shouts and frantic revelry sounded from her deck.
The captain at my side was as pale as a ghost. “ My ship
is lost! ” he cried; “ for there sails Death! ” Before I
had time to inquire the meaning of his strange exclama-
tion, the ship’s crew rushed up, shrieking and howling.
“ Did you see him? ” they shouted. “ Our end has come
at last! ”


90 Mystery Tales
The captain ordered passages from the Koran to be
read aloud, and took the helm himself. In vain; the
storm visibly increased, and, before an hour had passed,
the ship began to settle in the waves. The boats were
hoisted out, and scarcely had the last man time to quit
the wreck, when the vessel sunk before our eyes, and I
was floating beggared 0n the open sea. But our suffer-
ings were not yet over. The tempest raged with increas-
ing fury, and the boat soon became unmanageable. I flung
my arms round my old servant, and we promised never to
leave one another. Day broke at last. But just as the
earliest rays of morning shone in the east, the wind caught
our boat, and we were overturned. I have never seen any
of the ship’s company since. The shock stunned me; and,
when I awoke, I found myself in the arms of my old,
faithful servant, who had saved himself on the over-
turned boat, and had drawn me up after him. The storm
had subsided. Nothing was to be seen of our ship; but
we discovered not far from us another vessel, towards
which we were being driven by the waves. As we came
nearer, I recognized the same ship which had rushed by
us the previous night, and which had filled our captain
with such intense terror. I felt a strange horror at its
sight. The captain’s exclamation of foreboding, so fear.
fully verified; the decayed look of the ship itself, on which,
near as we were, and loud as we shouted, no living thing
was to be seen, terrified me. But it was our only means
of rescue, and we glorified the Prophet, who had watched
so wonderfully over our safety.
A long rope hung from the bow of the vessel. We
guided our boat towards it with hands and feet, to bring


The Spectral Ship 91
it within reach, and at last succeeded. But, although I
exerted my voice to its utmost pitch, everything remained
profoundly silent aboard the ship. At length we resolved
to climb on board,—— I, as the younger, going first. But,
0 horror! what a sight met my eye when I stepped upon
the deck! The floor was red with blood, and twenty or
thirty corpses, in Turkish clothes, lay extended on the
planks, while at the mainmast stood a man, richly dressed,
and with a sabre in his hand; his face pale and distorted,
and through his temples went a long nail, fastening him
to the mast. He was stone dead. Such was my horror
that I scarcely dared to breathe. Meanwhile my old
servant had succeeded in following me. He, too, stood
aghast at the sight of the deck, peopled solely by so many
frightful corpses. We ventured at last, after calming
somewhat the anguish of our souls by prayers to the
Prophet, to advance farther' into the ship. At every step
we looked for some fresh and more dreadful horror to
present itself to our gaze. But there was no further
change; far and wide, no living creatures but ourselves,
and the restless sea. We dared not speak above our
breaths, lest the dead and transfixed master should turn
his staring eyes upon us, or one of the dead bodies lift its
ghastly head. At length we came to the stairs leading to .
the cabin. We halted involuntarily, and looked long at
each other in silence, neitherof us daring to express his
thoughts aloud.
“ O, master!” at length said my old servant, “ some
horrible deed has been committed here. But should the
ship below be filled with murderers, I would rather throw
myself at once on their mercy, than remain a moment


92 Mystery Tales
longer among these frightful dead! ” I shared his feel-
ings, and, plucking up a little courage, we descended to the
cabin. Here, too, all was silent, and our footsteps on the
stairs were the only sounds we heard. We halted at the
cabin door. I held my breath and listened ; but no murmur
came to our ears. I opened it. The room was in the great-
est disorder. Clothes, weapons and other articles, lay scat-
tered confusedly about. Nothing was in its place. The
crew, or perhaps the captain, had been carousing, to judge
from appearances, only a short time before the massacre.
We went on, from room to room, and everywhere we found
scattered about vast stores of silks, pearls, sugars and
other valuable goods. I was beside myself with joy at all
this; for, as there was no one on board to claim them, I
thought I might fairly appropriate them to myself; but
Ibrahim called to my remembrance that we were still far
from land, and that without assistance from others we
must despair of reaching it.
We refreshed ourselves somewhat with the food and
wine, which we found at hand in great abundance, and at
length reascended to the deck. But here our flesh crawled
at the frightful appearance of the dead men, and we re-
solved to throw them overboard, and relieve ourselves of
their presence. But imagine our sensations when we found
that not one of them could be lifted from his position!
They adhered so firmly to the deck, that we should have
been obliged to tear up the planking to remove them, and
instruments to do this were not at hand. Our attempts to
release the captain from the mast were equally unsuc-
cessful ; nor could we even take away the sabre from his
stark and rigid hand. We spent the day in unhappy re-


The Speetml Ship 93
flections over our situation, and on the approach of night
I permitted Ibrahim to lie down to get some sleep; I
myself remaining awake on deck, to keep a look-out for
means of escape or rescue. But when the moon rose, and
I had judged by the stars that it was about eleven o’clock,
such an irresistible torpor overpowered me, that I fell
involuntarily to the deck behind a cask which was stand-
ing near. Still my condition more nearly resembled a
stupefaction than a sleep, for I could plainly hear the sea
beating against the sides of the vessel, and the sails creak-
ing and groaning in the wind. Suddenly I thought I heard
voices and men’s footsteps on the deck. I tried to raise
myself to look, but an invisible power held me motionless,
and I could not move my eyes. Yet the voices came con-
stantly plainer to my ears; and it seemed as if a' jovial
ship’s company were hurrying to and fro about the deck.
Now and then, too, I thought I heard a master’s powerful
voice, and the sound of ropes and sails drawn noisily up
and down. Gradually, however, my senses left me, and
I fell into a profound sleep, during which I thought I
could hear the clash of arms; and I did not wake till the
sun stood high in heaven, and was painfully burning my
face. I looked about, confused and bewildered; the storm,
the ship, the dead men, and the occurrences of the past
night, coming before me like a dream. But, when I
looked up, everything remained as it had been the previ-
ous day. Unmoved lay the bodies; the captain stood im-
movably at the mainmast. I laughed at my dream, and
rose to seek my old servant.
I found him sitting sadly in the cabin. “ 0, master! ”
he exclaimed as I entered, “ I would rather lie at the bot-


94 Mystery Tales
tom of the ocean than spend another night on board this
ship.”
I inquired the cause of his distress, and he answered:
“ After sleeping some hours, I awoke, hearing people run-
ning up and down over my head. I thought at first it
was you pacing the deck; but instantly perceived my mis-
take, for there were twenty or thirty moving over my
head, and orders shouted in a stentorian voice struck
hideously on my ear. At last heavy footsteps descended
the stairs. I knew nothing further for some time; but,
consciousness at length returning for a few moments, I
saw the man who is nailed to the mast overhead sitting at
this table, drinking and carousing, and him whose body,
dressed in a suit of crimson, lies nearest to the captain,
sitting here also, and sharing in his revels.”
You may easily imagine, my friends, the effect this
statement had on me. It had been, then, no vision of an
excited fancy which had disturbed my slumbers, but a
stern and terrible reality.
Meanwhile Ibrahim had been deep in thought. “I
have it!” he exclaimed, at length. A stanza had oc-
curred to his memory, which had been taught him by his
grandfather, and which was of potent efficacy in exorcis-
ing apparitions; and he hoped by its aid, and by fervent
prayers from the Koran, to keep away during the coming
night the torpor which had overpowered our senses the
evening before.
The old man’sasuggestion pleased me; and we waited in
gloomy expectation the approach of night. There was a
little apartment, opening out of the cabin, in which we
resolved to take refuge. We bored several holes in the


The Spectral Ship 95
door, large enough to enable us to overlook the whole
cabin, and then fastened the door on the inside as well
as we could, while Ibrahim wrote the name of the Prophet
in the four corners. Thus prepared, we waited for the
horrors of the coming night.
About eleven o’clock a strong inclination to sleep came
over me; but my companion begged me to recite prayers
from the Koran, and I did so, with marked effect. All
at once everything over our heads became replete with
life; the ropes creaked, steps moved up and down on deck,
and several voices could be plainly heard. We sat sev-
eral minutes in intense anxiety, when we heard some one
descending the cabin stairs. Hearing this, my old servant
commenced reciting the verse which his grandfather had
given him as a protection against magic:
“ Be ye spirits of upper air,
Or haunt ye the depths of the sea?
In loathsome tombs do ye have your lair,
Or come ye from fire to me?
Remember Allah, your God and Lord;
All wand’ring souls obey his word.”
I am free to confess I felt little confidence in this stanza;
and, when the door opened, my hair stood on end. The
same tall, handsome man, whom I had seen nailed to the
mainmast, entered the cabin. The nail still pierced his
forehead, but he had returned his sword to its sheath;
and behind him came another man, less richly clad than
his leader, whom I had also seen lying dead on deck. The
captain, for such he undoubtedly was, had a livid face,
a large black beard, and a pair of fierce, rolling eyes, with


96 Mystery Tales
which he searched every corner of the cabin. I saw him
with great distinctness as he passed our little chamber;
but he seemed to take no notice of the door behind which
we were concealed. Both took their seats at the table in
the middle of the cabin, and conversed with each other
in loud, harsh tones, and in an unlmown tongue. Their
voices grew louder and harsher, until at last the captain
brought down his clenched fist on the table with such force
that the whole room shook. The other sprang up, with a
wild burst of laughter, and signed to the captain to follow
him. The latter rose from his seat, tore his sabre from its
sheath, and both left the apartment.
We breathed more freely after they had left us; but our
terror was far from being at an end. The uproar on deck
grew louder and louder. We could hear them running
rapidly to and fro overhead, shouting, laughing, and yell-
ing. At last a hellish noise was heard, mingled with yells
and the clash of arms; then came a sudden silence.
When we ventured to return to the deck, many hours
after, we found everything as we had left it the day before.
Not one of the bodies had changed its posture, and all
were as stiff as if carved in wood.
Thus passed many days on the ship. We drove con-
stantly towards the east, where, according to my reckon-
ing, land was surely to be reached at last. But though by
day we traversed many miles, we seemed to return to our
previous position during the night, for we found ourselves,
when the sun rose, invariably in the same place. We
could not explain this, otherwise than by supposing that
the dead men steered their ship back every night with the


The S peetral Ship 97
trade wind. To prevent this we took in all the sails be-
fore night, and secured them by the same means we had
employed with the cabin door: we wrote the name of the
Prophet on parchment, together with the above-mentioned
stanza, and fastened the talismans to the lowered sails.
We waited in our state-room for the result, in intense
anxiety. That night, magic seemed to be working with
increased fury; but, 0 joy! the next morning the sails
were still furled as we had left them the evening before.
Henceforth, we spread during the day only so much sail
as was needed to urge the ship moderately forward; and
in this way in five days we advanced a considerable dis-
tance on our voyage. .
At length, on the sixth day, we discovered land in the
horizon, and gave thanks to Allah and his Prophet for our
wonderful preservation. All this day and the following
night we drove onward towards the coast, and on the
seventh morning thought we discovered a city at no great
distance. With great difficulty we hove over an anchor
into the sea, and launching a small boat, which stood on
the deck, rowed with all our strength towards the city.
In half an hour we ran into the mouth of a stream which
discharged into the ocean, and landed on the shore. Pro-
ceeding on foot to the city, we inquired its name at the
gates, and learned that it was an Indian city, at no great
distance from my original place of destination. We took
lodgings at a caravansary; and, after refreshing our
strength, which had been exhausted by our perilous voy-
age, I made inquiries for a man of wisdom and learning,
giving our landlord to understand that I should prefer


98 Mystery Tales
one somewhat acquainted with magic. He took me to a
retired street, and knocked at an obscure house, giving me
directions to inquire for Muley.
As I entered, an old, diminutive man, with a gray
beard and a long nose, came towards me, and demanded
my business. On my replying that I was in search of
Muley the Wise, he told me it was himself. I asked him
for advice as to what I should do with the dead bodies, and
what measures I should adopt to get them out of the ship.
He replied, that the people in the vessel had probably
been bewitched because of some great crime perpetrated
on the sea. He thought this witchcraft could be exor-
cised if they could be brought on shore; but that this was
impossible, unless the planks on which they lay were taken
up; that by all the laws of God and justice, the ship and
all she contained belonged to me, but that I must keep
profoundly silent in regard to it; and, if I would present
to him a small portion of my surplus wealth, that he would
bring his own slaves to help me in disposing of the bodies.
I promised to reward him handsomely; and we set out
for the ship, with five slaves, provided with saws and
hatchets. While on our way, the magician could not suf—
ficiently compliment the wisdom of our plan of guarding
the sails with quotations from the Koran. He declared
that this was the sole means by which we could have been
saved.
It was still early in the morning when we reached the
ship. We went zealously to work, and in an hour’s time
had placed four of the bodies in the skiff. Some of the
slaves were ordered to row them ashore and bury them.
They declared, when they came back, that the dead men


The Spectral Ship 99
had saved them the trouble of burial, for no sooner had
they been laid on the ground than they had crumbled into
dust. We continued to remove the corpses, and before
evening every one of them had been carried to the land.
No one was left but the man whom we had found nailed to
the mainmast. We tried in vain to draw out the nail.
N 0 exercise of strength seemed to start it a hair’s breadth.
I was at a loss what to do next; for it was out of the
question to cut down the mast in order to take him ashore.
But Muley helped us out of this embarrassment. He
directed a slave to row quickly to the shore, and bring
away a basket of earth. When this had been done the
magician uttered some mysterious words, and sprinkled
the earth on the dead man’s head. The latter instantly
opened his eyes, drew a deep breath, and the wound made
by the nail in his brow began to bleed. We now drew the
spike out without difficulty, and the body fell into the
arms of one of our slaves.
“ Who has brought me here '4 ” he asked. Muley pointed
to me, and I stepped closer. “ Thanks, unknown stran—
ger,” said he. “You have released me from long tor-
ments. For fifteen years my body has been sailing on
these waters, and my soul been condemned to revisit it at
night. But now earth has rested on my head, and I can
go to my fathers, forgiven.”
I begged him to let us know how he had merited this
fearful punishment, and he went on:
“Fifteen years ago I was a powerful and distinguished
man, and lived in Algiers. A thirst for gain induced me
to fit out a ship and take to piracy. I had practiced this
mode of life for some time, when one day I took on board


100 Mystery Tales
at Zante a dervish, who wished to travel free of expense.
I and my crew were fierce people, and paid no regard to
the sanctity of our passenger, but, on the contrary, made
him the object of our ridicule. But on one occasion, when,
in his holy zeal, he had rebuked my sinful course of life,
my anger, which was more easily excited as I had been
drinking deeply, obtained complete mastery over me.
Furious at hearing from a dervish what I would not have
endured tamely from the sultan himself, I plunged my
dagger in his heart. With his dying breath he cursed my
crew and me, condemning us to an existence of neither
vlife nor death till we had laid our heads upon the earth.
The dervish died, and we threw him into the sea, laugh-
ing at his imprecations; but that very night his sentence
was fulfilled. A part of my crew mutinied. We fought
with dreadful fury till my adherents were all slain, and
I nailed to the mast. But the mutineers also perished of
their wounds, and soon my ship was merely one vast grave.
My sight left me, my breath failed, and I awaited death.
But it was only a torpor which had overpowered me. On
the next night, at the same hour in which we had thrown
the dervish into the sea, I and all my crew awoke to life;
existence had returned to us again, but we could do noth-
ing, say nothing, but what we had said and done that
dreadful night. Thus we have sailed for fifteen years,
unable to live, unable to die. We have spread every sail
to the tempest with frantic joy, hoping to be dashed at
last upon some friendly cliff, and lay our weary heads at
rest on the bottom of the ocean. It was denied to us.
But now I can die. Once more, my unknown savior, I


The Spectral Ship 101
thank you ; and, if you value treasures, take my ship and
its contents in token of my gratitude.”
The captain let his head fall upon his breast, and, like
his companions in suffering, crumbled into dust. We col-
lected his ashes in a box, and buried them on the beach;
and I obtained workmen from the city, who soon put my
vessel in repair. After I had bartered away, at a great
profit, the goods which I had found on board, I hired sea-
men, remunerated richly my friend Muley, and sailed for
my native country. I took a circuitous route, visiting
many countries and islands, and disposing of my goods.
The Prophet blessed my undertaking. At the end of nine
months I returned to Balsora twice as rich as the dying
captain’s bequest had made me. My fellow-citizens were
surprised at my wealth and good fortune, and would not
believe but that I had found the Valley of Diamonds of
the famous voyager, Sindbad. I left them to their belief;
and my example tempted all the youths of Balsora to go
out into the world, in order, like me, to make their for-
tunes. ‘
I lived calmly and at peace, and have made, every five
years since then, a journey to Mecca, that I might thank
God, in his holy place, for all his blessings, and pray for
the captain and his crew, that He would receive them into
Paradise.





THE HAUNTED HOUSE
WASHINGTON IRVING
IN the early time of the province of New York, while
it groaned under the tyranny of the English governor,
Lord Cornbury, who carried his cruelties towards the
Dutch inhabitants so far as to allow no Dominic, or school-
master, to officiate in their language without his special
license; about this time there lived in the jolly little old
city of the Manhattoes a kind motherly dame, known by
the name of Dame Heyliger. She was the widow of a
Dutch sea-captain, who died suddenly of a fever, in con-
sequence of working too hard, and eating too heartily,
at the time when all the inhabitants turned out in a panic,
102


The Haunted H case 103
to fortify the place against the invasion of a small French
privateer. He left her with very little money, and one
infant son, the only survivor of several children. The good
woman had need of much management to make both ends
meet, and keep up a decent appearance. However, as her
husband had fallen a victim to his zeal for the public
safety, it was universally agreed that “ something ought
to be done for the widow ” ; and on the hopes of this “ some-
thing” she lived tolerably for some years; in the mean-
time everybody pitied and spoke well of her, and that
helped along.
She lived in a small house, in a small street, called
Garden Street, very probably from a garden which may
have flourished there some time or other. As her neces-
sities every year grew greater, and the talk of the public
about doing “ something for her” grew less, she had to
cast about for some mode of doing something for herself,
by way of helping out her slender means, and maintaining
her independence, of which she was somewhat tenacious.
Living in a mercantile town, she had caught something
of the spirit, and determined to venture a little in the
great lottery of commerce. On a sudden, therefore, to
the great surprise of the street, there appeared at her
window a grand array of gingerbread kings and queens,
with their arms stuck akimbo, after the invariable royal
manner. There were also several broken tumblers, some
filled with sugar-plums, some with marbles; there were,
moreover, cakes of various kinds, and barley-sugar, and
Holland dolls, and wooden horses, with here and there gilt-
covered picture-books, and now and then a skein of thread,
or a dangling pound of candles.


104 Mystery Tales
But though the good woman had to come down to those
humble means of subsistence, yet she still kept up a feel—
ing of family pride, being descended from the Vander
Spiegels of Amsterdam; and she had the family arms
painted and framed, and hung over her mantelpiece. She
was, in truth, much respected by all the poorer people of
the place; her house was quite a resort of the old wives
of the neighborhood; they would drop in there of a win-
ter’s afternoon, as she sat knitting on one side of her fire-
place, her cat purring on the other, and the tea-kettle sing—
ing before it; and they would gossip with her until late
in the evening. There was always an arm-chair for
Peter de Groodt, sometimes called Long Peter, and some-
times Peter Longlegs, the clerk and sexton of the little
Lutheran church, who was her great crony, and indeed
the oracle of her fireside. Nay, the Dominie himself did
not disdain, now and then, to step in, converse about the
state of her mind, and take a glass of her special good
cherry-brandy. Indeed, he never failed to call on N ew-
Year’s day, and wish her a happy New Year; and the
good dame, who was a little vain on some points, always
piqued herself on giving him as large a cake as any one
in town.
I have said that she had one son. He was the child
of her old age; but could hardly be called the comfort,
for, of all unlucky urchins, Dolph Heyliger was the
most mischievous. Not that the whipster was really
vicious; he was only full of fun and frolic, and had that
daring, gamesome spirit which is extolled in a rich man’s
child, but execrated in a poor man’s. He was continually
getting into scrapes ; his mother was incessantly harassed


The Haunted House 105
with complaints of some waggish pranks which he had
played off; bills were sent in for windows that he had
broken; in a word, he had not reached his fourteenth year
before he was pronounced, by all the neighborhood, to be
a “ wicked dog, the wickedest dog in the street!” Nay,
one old gentleman, in a claret-colored coat, with a thin
red face, and ferret eyes, went so far- as to assure Dame
Heyliger, that her son would, one day or other, come to the
gallows!
Yet, notwithstanding all this, the poor old soul loved
her boy. It seemed as though she loved him the better
the worse he behaved, and that he grew more in her favor
the more he grew out of favor with the world. Indeed,
this poor woman’s child was all that was left to love her
in this world; —so we must not think it hard that she
turned a deaf ear to her good friends, who sought to prove
to her that Dolph would come to a halter.
To do the varlet justice, too, he was strongly attached
to his parent. He would not willingly have given her
pain on any account; and when he had been doing wrong,
it was but for him to catch his poor mother’s eye fixed
wistfully and sorrowftu upon him, to fill his heart with
bitterness and contrition. But he was a heedless young-
ster, and could not, for the life of him, resist any new
temptation to fun and mischief. Though quick at his
learning, whenever he could be brought to apply himself,
he was always prone to be led away by idle company, and
would play truant to hunt after birds’-nests, to rob
orchards, or to swim in the Hudson.
In this way he grew up, a tall, lubberly boy; and his
mother began to be greatly perplexed what to do with him,


106 Mystery Tales
or how to put him in a way to do for himself; for he had
acquired such an unlucky reputation, that no one seemed
willing to employ him.
Many were the consultations that she held with Peter
de Groodt, the clerk and sexton, who was her prime coun-
selor. Peter was as much perplexed as herself, for he
had no great opinion of the boy, and thought he would
never come to good. He at once advised her to send him
to sea; a piece of advice only given in the most desperate
cases; but Dame Heyliger would not listen to such an
idea; she could not think of letting Dolph go out of her
sight. She was sitting one day knitting by her fireside,
in great perplexity, when the sexton entered with an air
of unusual vivacity and briskness. He had just come from
a funeral. It had been that of a boy of Dolph’s years,
who had been apprentice to a famous German doctor, and
had died of a consumption.
Peter de Groodt, as I said before, entered the house
of Dame Heyliger with unusual alacrity. A bright idea
had popped into his head at the funeral, over which he
had chuckled as he shoveled the earth into the grave of
the doctor’s disciple. It had occurred to him, that, as
the situation of the deceased was vacant at the doctor’s,
it would be the very place for Dolph. The boy had parts,
and could pound a pestle, and run an errand with any boy
in the town; and what more was wanted in a student?
The suggestion of the sage Peter was a vision of glory
to the mother. She already saw Dolph, in her mind’s eye,
with a cane at his nose, a knocker at his door, and an
MD. at the end of his name,—— one of the established dig-
nitaries of the town.


The Haunted House 107
The matter, once undertaken, was soon effected; the sex-
ton had some influence with the doctor, they having had
much dealing together in the way of their separate pro-
fessions; and the very next morning he called and con-
ducted the urchin, clad in his Sunday clothes, to undergo /
the inspection of Dr. Karl Lodovick Knipperhausen.
They found the doctor seated in an elbow-chair, in one
corner of his study, or laboratory, with a large volume,
in German print, before him. He was a short fat man,
with a dark square face, rendered more dark by a black
velvet cap. He had a little nobbed nose, not unlike the ace
of spades, with a pair of spectacles gleaming on each side
of his dusky countenance, like a couple of bow-windows.
Dolph felt struck with awe on entering into the pres-
ence of this learned man; and gazed about him with boy-
ish wonder at the furniture of this chamber of knowledge;
which appeared to him almost as the den of a magician.
In the centre stood a claw-footed table, with pestle and
mortar, phials and gallipots, and a pair of small burnished
scales. At one end was a heavy clothes-press, turned into
a receptacle for drugs and compounds; against which
hung the doctor’s hat and cloak, and gold—headed cane,
and on the top grinned a human skull. Along the mantel-
piece were glass vessels in which were snakes and lizards.
A closet, the doors of which were taken off, contained
three whole shelves of books, and some, too, of mighty
folio dimensions,—-a collection the like of which Dolph
had never before beheld. As, however, the library did
not take up the whole of the closet, the doctor’s thrifty
housekeeper had occupied the rest with pots of pickles
and preserves; and had hung about the room, among awful


108 Mystery Tales
implements of the healing art, strings of red pepper and
corpulent cucumbers, carefully preserved for seed.
Peter de Groodt and his protégé were received with
great gravity and stateliness by the doctor, who was a
very wise, dignified little man, and never smiled. He
surveyed Dolph from head to foot, above, and under, and
through his spectacles, and the poor lad’s heart quailed
as these great glasses glared on him like two full moons.
The doctor heard all that Peter de Groodt had to say in
favor of the youthful candidate; and then wetting his
thumb with the end of his tongue, he began deliberately
to turn over page after page of the great black volume
before him. At length, after many hums and haws, and
strokings of the chin, and all that hesitation and delibera-
tion with which a wise man proceeds to do what he in-
tended to do from the very first, the doctor agreed to take
the lad as a disciple; to give him bed, board, and clothing,
and to instruct him in the healing art; in return for which
he was to have his services until his twenty-first year.
Behold, then, our hero, all at once transformed from
an unlucky urchin running wild about the streets, to a
student of medicine, diligently pounding a pestle, under
the auspices of the learned Doctor Karl Lodovick Knip-
perhausen. It was a happy transition for his fond old
mother. She was delighted with the idea of her boy’s
being brought up worthy of his ancestors; and anticipated
the day when he would be able to hold up his head with the
lawyer, that lived in the large house opposite; or, perad~
venture, with the Dominic himself.
No sooner was Dolph received into the doctor’s fam-
ily, than he was put in possession of the lodging of his


The H atmtecl House 109
predecessor. It was a garret-room of a steep-roofed Dutch
house, where the rain had pattered on the shingles, and
the lightning gleamed, and the wind piped through the
crannies in stormy weather; and where whole troops of
hungry rats, like Don Cossacks, galloped about, in defiance
of traps and ratsbane.
He was soon up to his ears in medical studies, being em-
ployed, morning, noon and night, in rolling pills, filter-
ing tinctures, or pounding the pestle and mortar in one
corner of the laboratory; while the doctor would take his
seat in another corner, when he had nothing else to do,
or expected visitors, and, arrayed in his morning-gown and
velvet cap, would pore over the contents of some folio
volume.
There was another personage in the house, however, to
whom Dolph was obliged to pay allegiance. Though a
bachelor, and a man of such great dignity and importance,
the doctor was, like many other wise men, subject to petti-
coat government. He was completely under the sway of
his housekeeper, a spare, busy, fretting housewife, in a
little, round, quilted German cap, with a huge bunch of
keys jingling at the girdle of an exceedingly long waist.
Frau Ilsé (or Frow Ilsy, as it was pronounced) had accom-
panied him in his various migrations from Germany to
England, and from England to the province; managing
his establishment and himself too: ruling him, it is true,
with a gentle hand, but carrying a high hand with all the
world beside.
Between the doctor and the housekeeper it may easily
be supposed that Dolph had a busy life of it. As Frau
Ilsy kept the keys, and literally ruled the roast, it was


The Haunted House 111
his possessions, and to look forward, like other great men,
to the time when he should retire to the repose of a coun-
try-seat. For this purpose he had purchased a farm, or,
as the Dutch settlers called it, a bowerie, a few miles from
town. It had been the residence of a wealthy family,
that had returned some time since to Holland. A large
mansion-house stood in the centre of it, very much out of
repair, and which, in consequence of certain reports, had
received the appellation of the Haunted House. Either
from these reports, or from its actual dreariness, the doc-
tor found it impossible to get a tenant; and that the place
might not fall to ruin before he could reside in it him-
self, he placed a country boor, with his family, in one
wing, with the privilege of cultivating the farm on shares.
The doctor now felt all the dignity of a landholder ris—
ing within him. He had a little of the German pride of
territory in his composition, and almost looked upon him-
self as owner of a principality. He began to complain
of the fatigue of business; and was fond of riding out
“to look at his estate.” His little expeditions to his
lands were attended with a hustle and parade that cre-
ated a sensation throughout the neighborhood. His wall-
eyed horse stood, stamping and whisking off the flies, for
a full hour before the house. Then the doctor’s saddle-
bags would be brought out and adjusted; then, after a
little while, his cloak would be rolled up and strapped to
the saddle; then his umbrella would be buttoned to the
cloak; while, in the meantime, a group of ragged boys
would gather before the door. At length the doctor would
issue forth, in a pair of jack-boots that reached above his
knees, and a cooked hat flapped down in front. As he


112 Mystery Tales
was a short, fat man, he took some time to mount into
the saddle; and when there, he took some time to have
the saddle and stirrups properly adjusted, enjoying the
wonder and admiration of the urchin crowd. Even after
he had set off, he would pause in the middle of the street,
or trot back two or three times to give some parting or-
ders; which were answered by the housekeeper from the
door, or Dolph from the study, or the black cook from the
cellar, or the chambermaid from the garret-window; and
there were generally some last words bawled after him,
just as he was turning the corner.
The whole neighborhood would be aroused by this pomp
and circumstance. The cobbler’would leave his last; the
barber would thrust out his frizzled head, with a comb
sticking in it; a knot would collect at the grocer’s door,
and the word would be buzzed from one end of the street
to the other, “The doctor’s riding out to his country-
seat! ”
These were golden moments for Dolph. No sooner was
the doctor out of sight, than pestle and mortar were aban-
doned; the laboratory was left to take care of itself, and
the student was off on some madcap frolic.
Indeed, it must be confessed, the youngster, as he grew
up, seemed in a fair way to fulfill the prediction of the
old claret-colored gentleman. He was the ringleader of
all holiday sports and midnight gambols; ready for all
kinds of mischievous pranks and hair-brained adventures.
There is nothing so troublesome as a hero on a small
scale, or, rather, a hero in a small town. Dolph soon be-
came the abhorrence of all drowsy, housekeeping old citi-
zens, who hated noise, and had no relish for waggery. The


The Haunted House 113
good dames, too, considered him as little better than a
reprobate, gathered their daughters under their wings
whenever he approached, and pointed him out as a warn-
ing to their sons. No one seemed to hold him in much
regard except the wild striplings of the place, who were
captivated by his open-hearted, daring manners,-—— and the
negroes, who always looked upon every idle, do-nothing
youngster as a kind of gentleman. - Even the good Peter
de Groodt, who had considered himself a kind of patron
of the lad, began to despair of him; and would shake his
head dubiously as he listened to a long complaint from
the housekeeper, and sipped a glass of her raspberry
brandy.
Still his mother was not to be wearied out of her af-
fection by all the waywardness of her boy; nor disheart-
ened by the stories of his misdeeds, with which her good
friends were continually regaling her. She saw him
growing up a fine, tall, good-looking youngster, and she
looked at him with the secret pride of a mother’s heart.
It was her great desire that Dolph should appear like a
gentleman, and all the money she could save went to-
wards helping out his pocket and his wardrobe. She
would look out of the window after him, as he sallied
forth in his best array, and her heart would yearn with
delight; and once, when Peter de Groodt, struck with the
youngster’s gallant appearance on a bright Sunday morn-
ing, observed, “Well, after all, Dolph does grow a comely
fellow! ” the tear of pride started into the mother’s eye.
“ Ah, neighbor! neighbor! ” exclaimed she, “ they may say
what they please; poor Dolph will yet hold up his head
with the best of them! ”


114 Mystery Tales
Dolph Heyliger had now nearly attained his one-and-
twentieth year, and the term of his medical studies was
just expiring; yet it must be confessed that he knew little
more of the profession than when he first entered the
doctor’s doors. This, however, could not be from any want
of quickness of parts, for he showed amazing aptness
in mastering other branches of knowledge, which he could
only have studied at intervals. He was, for instance, a
sure marksman, and won all the geese and turkeys at
Christmas holidays. He was a bold rider; he was famous
for leaping and wrestling; he played tolerably on the
fiddle; could swim like a fish; and was the best hand in the
whole place at fives and nine-pins.
All these accomplishments, however, procured him no
favor in the eyes of the doctor, who grew more and more
crabbed and intolerant the nearer the term of appren-
ticeship approached. Frau Ilsy, too, was forever finding
some occasion to raise a windy tempest about his ears, and
seldom encountered him about the house without a clatter
of the tongue; so that at length the jingling of her keys,
as she approached, was to Dolph like the ringing of the
prompter’s bell, that gives notice of a theatrical thunder-
storm. Nothing but the infinite good-humor of the heed-
less youngster enabled him to bear all this domestic tyranny
without open rebellion. It was evident that the doctor
and his housekeeper were preparing to beat the poor youth
out of the nest, the moment his term should have expired,—
a short-hand mode which the doctor had of providing for
useless disciples.
Indeed the little man had been rendered more than
usually irritable lately in consequence of various cares and


The Haunted House 115
vexations which his country estate had brought upon him.
The doctor had been repeatedly annoyed by the rumors
_ and tales which prevailed concerning the old mansion,
and found it difficult to prevail even upon the country-
man and his family to remain there rent-free. Every time
he rode out to the farm he was teased by some fresh com-
plaint of strange noises and fearful sights, with which the
tenants were disturbed at night; and the doctor would
come home fretting and fuming, and vent his spleen upon
the whole household. It was indeed a sore grievance that
affected him both in pride and purse. He was threatened
with an absolute loss of the profits of his property; and
then, what a blow to his territorial consequence, to be the
landlord of a haunted house!
It was observed, however, that with all his vexation,
the doctor never proposed to sleep in the house himself;
nay, he could never be prevailed upon to remain on the
premises after dark, but made the best of his way for
town as soon as the bats began to flit about in the twilight.
The fact was, the doctor had a secret belief in ghosts, hav-
ing passed the early part of his life in a country where they
particularly abound; and indeed the story went, that, when
a boy, he had once seen the devil upon the Hartz Moun-
tains in Germany.
At length the doctor’s vexations on this head were
brought to a crisis. One morning as he sat dozing over a
volume in his study, he was suddenly startled from his
slumbers by the bustling in of the housekeeper.
“ Here’s a fine to do!” cried she, as she entered the
room. “ Here’s Claus Hopper come in, bag and baggage,
from the farm, and swears he’ll have nothing more to do


116 Mystery Tales
with it. The whole family have been frightened out of
their wits; for there’s such racketing and rummaging about
the old house, that they can’t sleep quiet in their beds! ”
“Donner and blitzen! ” cried the doctor, impatiently;
“ will they never have done chattering about that house?
What a pack of fools, to let a few rats and mice frighten
them out of good quarters! ”
“ Nay, nay,” said the housekeeper, wagging her head
knowingly, and piqued at having a good ghost-story
doubted, “ there’s more in it than rats and mice. All the
neighborhood talks about the house; and then such sights
as have been seen in it! Peter de Groodt tells me, that
the family that sold you the house, and went to Holland,
dropped several strange hints about it, and said, ‘ they
wished you joy of your bargain ’ ; and you know your—
self there’s no getting any family to live in it.”
“ Peter de Groodt’s a ninny — an old woman,” said the
doctor, peevishly; “ I’ll warrant he’s been filling these
people’s heads full of stories. It’s just like his nonsense
about the ghost that haunted the church-belfry, as an ex-
cuse for not ringing the bell that cold night when Har-
manus Brinkerhofl’s house was on fire. Send Claus to
me.”
Claus Hopper now made his appearance: a simple coun-
try lout, full of awe at finding himself in the very study
of Dr. Knipperhausen, and too much embarrassed to enter
in much detail of the matters that had caused his alarm.
He stood twirling his hat in one hand, resting sometimes
on one leg, sometimes on the other, looking occasionally
at the doctor, and now and then stealing a fearful glance


The Haunted House 117
at the death’s-head that seeemed ogling him from the top
of the clothes-press.
The doctor tried every means to persuade him to re-
turn to the farm, but all in vain; he maintained a dogged
determination on the subject; and at the close of every
argument or solicitation would make the same brief, in-
flexible reply, “Ich kan nicht, mynheer.” The doctor
was a “little pot, and soon hot”; his patience was ex—
hausted by these continual vexations about his estate.
The stubborn refusal of Claus Hopper seemed to him like
flat rebellion; his temper suddenly boiled over, and Claus
was glad to make a rapid retreat to escape scalding.
When the bumpkin got to the housekeeper’s room, he
found Peter de Groodt, and several other true believers,
ready to receive him. Here he indemnified himself for
the restraint he had suffered in the study, and opened
a budget of stories about the haunted house that astonished
all his hearers. The housekeeper believed them all, if it
was only to spite the doctor for having received her intelli-
gence so uncourteously. Peter de Groodt matched them
with many a wonderful legend of the times of the Dutch
dynasty, and of the Devil’s Stepping-stones; and of the
pirate hanged at Gibbet Island, that continued to swing
there at night long after the gallows was taken down; and
of the ghost of the unfortunate Governor Leisler, hanged
for treason, which haunted the old fort and the govern—
ment-house. The gossiping knot dispersed, each charged
with direful intelligence. The sexton disburdened him-
self at a vestry meeting that was held that very day, and
the black cook forsook her kitchen, and spent half the


118 Mystery Tales
day at the street-pump, that gossiping place of servants,
dealing forth the news to all that came for water. In a
little time the whole town was in a buzz with tales about
the haunted house.
All this put the little doctor in a terrible fume. He
threatened vengeance on any one who should affect the
value of his property by exciting popular prejudices. He
complained loudly of thus being in a manner dispos-
sessed of his territories by mere bugbears; but he secretly
determined to have the house exorcised by the Dominic.
Great was his relief, therefore, when in the midst of his
perplexities, Dolph stepped forward and undertook to
garrison the haunted house. The youngster had been lis-
tening to all the stories of Claus Hopper and Peter de
Groodt; he was fond of adventure, he loved the marvelous,
and his imagination had become quite excited by these
tales of wonder. Besides, he had led such an uncomfor-
table life at the doctor’s, being subjected to the intoler-
able thraldom of early hours, that he was delighted at the
prospect of having a house to himself, even though it
should be a haunted one. His offer was eagerly accepted,
and it was determined he should mount guard that very
night. His only stipulation was, that the enterprise
should be kept secret from his mother; for he knew the
poor soul would not sleep a wink if she knew her son was
waging war with the powers of darkness.
When night came on he set out on this perilous expe-
dition. The old black cook, his only friend in the house-
hold, had provided him with a little mess for supper, and
a rush-light; and she tied round his neck an amulet, given
her by an African conjurer, as a charm against evil spir—


The Haunted House 119
its. Dolph was escorted on his way by the doctor and
Peter de Groodt, who had agreed to acccompany him to
the house, and to see him safe lodged. The night was
overcast, and it was very dark when they arrived at the
grounds which surrounded the mansion. The sexton led
the way with the lantern. As they walked along the ave-
nue of acacias, the fitful light, catching from bush to
bush, and tree to tree, often startled the doughty Peter,
and made him fall back upon his followers; and the doc-
tor grappled still closer hold of Dolph’s arm, observing
that the ground was very slippery and uneven. At one
time they were nearly put to total rout by a bat, which
came flitting about the lantern; and the notes of the in-
sects from the trees, and the frogs from a neighboring
pond, formed a most drowsy and doleful concert. The
front door of the mansion opened with a grating sound,
that made the doctor turn pale. They entered a tolerably
large hall, such as is common in American country-houses,
and which serves for a sitting-room in warm weather.
From this they went up a wide staircase, that groaned
and creaked as they trod, every step making its par-
ticular note, like the key of a harpsichord. This led to
another hall on the second story, whence they entered the
room where Dolph was to sleep. It was large, and scantily
furnished; the shutters were closed; but as they were
much broken, there was no want of a circulation of air.
It appeared to have been that sacred chamber, known
among Dutch housewives by the name of “the best bed-
room”; which is the best furnished room in the house,
but in which scarce anybody is ever permitted to sleep.
Its splendor, however, was all at an end. There were a


120 Mystery Tales
few broken articles of furniture about the room, and in
the centre stood a heavy deal table and a large arm-chair,
both of which had the look of being coeval with the man-
sion. The fireplace was wide, and had been faced with
Dutch tiles, representing Scripture stories; but some of
them had fallen out of their places, and lay scattered about
the hearth. The sexton lit the rush-light; and the doc-
tor, looking fearfully about the room, was just exhorting
Dolph to be of good cheer, and to pluck up a stout heart,
when a noise in the chimney, like voices and struggling,
struck a sudden panic into the sexton. He took to his
heels with the lantern; the doctor followed hard after
him; the stairs groaned and creaked as they hurried down,
increasing their agitation and speed by its noise. The
front door slammed after them; and Dolph heard them
scrabbling down the avenue, till the sound of their feet
was lost in- the distance. That he did not join in this
precipitate retreat might have been owing to his possessing
a little more courage than his companions, or perhaps that
he had caught a glimpse of the cause of their dismay, in a
nest of chimney-swallows, that came tumbling down into
the fireplace.
Being now left to himself, be secured the front door
by a strong bolt and bar; and having seen that the other
entrances were fastened, returned to his desolate cham-
ber. Having made his supper from the basket which the
good old cook had provided, he locked the chamber-door,
and retired to rest on a mattress in one corner. The night
was calm and still; and nothing broke upon the profound
quiet but the lonely chirping of a cricket from the chim-
ney of a distant chamber. The rush-light, which stood


The Haunted House 121'
in the centre of the deal table, shed a feeble yellow ray,
dimly illumining the chamber, and making uncouth shapes
and shadows on the walls, from the clothes which Dolph
had thrown over a chair.
With all his boldness of heart, there was something
subduing in this desolate scene; and he felt his spirits
flag within him, as he lay on his hard bed and gazed about
the room. He was turning over in his mind his idle
habits, his doubtful prospects, and now and then heaving
a heavy sigh as he thought on his poor old mother; for
there is nothing like the silence and loneliness of night
to bring dark shadows over the brightest mind. By and
by he thought he heard a sound as of some one walking
below stairs. He listened, and distinctly heard a step
on the great staircase. It approached solemnly and
slowly, tramp—tramp—tramp! It was evidently the
tread of some heavy personage; and yet how could he
have got into the house without making a noise? He had
examined all the fastenings, and was certain that every en-
trance was secure. Still the steps advanced, tramp—
tramp ——tramp! It was evident that the person ap—
proaching could not be a robber, the step was too loud and
deliberate; a robber would either be stealthy or precipi-
tate. And now the footsteps had ascended the staircase;
they were slowly advancing along the passage, resound-
ing through the silent and empty apartments. The very
cricket had ceased its melancholy note, and nothing inter-
rupted their awful distinctness. The door, which had
been locked on the inside, slowly swung open, as if self-
moved. The footsteps entered the room; but no one was
to be seen. They passed slowly and audibly across it,


122 Mystery Tales
tramp—tramp—tramp! but whatever made the sound
was invisible. Dolph rubbed his eyes, and stared about.
him; he could see to every part of the dimly—lighted cham-
ber; all was vacant; yet still he heard those mysterious
footsteps, solemnly walking about the chamber. They
ceased, and all was dead silence. There was something
more appalling in this invisible visitation than there
would have been in anything that addressed itself to the
eye-sight. It was awfully vague and indefinite. He felt
his heart beat against his ribs; a cold sweat broke out
upon his forehead; he lay for some time in a state of vio-
lent agitation; nothing, however, occurred to increase his
alarm. His light gradually burnt down into the socket,
and he fell asleep.
When he awoke it was broad daylight; the sun was
peering through the 'cracks of the window-shutters, and
the birds were merrily singing about the house. The
bright cheery day soon put to flight all the terrors of
the preceding night. Dolph laughed, or rather tried to
laugh, at all that had passed, and endeavored to per-
suade himself that it was a mere freak of the imagina-
tion, conjured up by the stories he had heard; but he
was a little puzzled to find the door of his room locked
on the inside, notwithstanding that he had positively seen
it swing open as the footsteps had entered. He returned
to town in a state of considerable perplexity; but he de—
termined to say nothing on the subject, until his doubts
were either confirmed or removed by another night’s watch-
ing. His silence was a grievous disappointment to the
gossips who had gathered at the doctor’s mansion. They
had prepared their minds to hear direful tales, and were


The Haunted House 123
almost in a rage at being assured he had nothing to re-
late.
The next night, then, Dolph repeated his vigil. He now
entered the house with some trepidation. He was par-
ticular in examining the fastenings of all the doors, and
securing them well. He locked the door of his chamber,
and placed a chair against it; then having dispatched his
supper, he threw himself on his mattress and endeavored
to sleep. It was all in vain; a thousand crowding fan-
cies kept him waking. The time slowly dragged on, as
if minutes were spinning themselves out into hours. As
the night advanced, he grew more and more nervous; and
he almost started from his couch when he heard the mys-
terious footstep again on the staircase. Up it came, as
before, solemnly and slowly, tramp—tramp —tramp!
It approached along the passage; the door again swung
open, as if there had been neither lock nor impediment,
and a strange-looking figure stalked into the room. It
was an elderly man, large and robust, clothed in the old
Flemish fashion. He had on a kind of short cloak, with
a garment under it, belted round the waist; trunk-hose,
with great bunches or bows at the knees; and a pair of
russet boots, very large at top, and standing widely from
his legs. His hat was broad and slouched, with a feather
trailing over one side. His iron-gray hair hung in' thick
masses on his neck; and he had a short grizzled beard.
He walked slowly round the room, as if examining that all
was safe; then, hanging his hat on a peg beside the door,
he sat down in the elbow—chair, and, leaning his elbow on
the table, fixed his eyes on Dolph with an unmoving and
deadening stare.


124 Mystery Tales
Dolph was not naturally a coward; but he had been
brought up in an implicit belief in ghosts and goblins. A
thousand stories came swarming to his mind that he had
heard about this building; and as he looked at this strange
personage, with his uncouth garb, his pale visage, his
grizzly beard, and his fixed, staring, fishlike eye, his teeth
began to chatter, his hair to rise on his head, and a cold
sweat to break out all over his body. How long he re-
mained in this situation he could not tell, for he was like
one fascinated. He could not take his gaze off from the
spectre; but lay staring at him, with his whole intellect
absorbed in the contemplation. The old man remained
seated behind the table, without stirring, or turning an
eye, always keeping a dead steady glare upon Dolph. At
length the household cock, from a neighboring farm,
clapped his wings, and gave a loud cheerful crow that
rung over the fields. At the sound the old man slowly
rose, and took down his hat from the peg; the door opened,
and closed after him; he was heard to go slowly down the
staircase, tramp —— tramp —-tramp ! — and when he had
got to the bottom, all was again silent. Dolph lay, and lis-
tened earnestly; counted every footfall; listened, and
listened, if the steps should return, until, exhausted by
watching and agitation, he fell into a troubled sleep.
Daylight again brought fresh courage and assurance.
He would fain have considered all that had passed as a
mere dream; yet there stood the chair in which the un—
known had seated himself; there was the table on which
he had leaned; there was the peg on which he had hung
his hat; and there was the door, locked precisely as he
himself had looked it, with the chair placed against it.


The Haunted House 125
He hastened down-stairs, and examined the doors and win-
dows ; all were exactly in the same state in which he had
left them, and there was no apparent way by which any
being could have entered and left the house, without leav-
ing some trace behind. “ Pooh! ” said Dolph to himself,
“ it was all a dream ” : — but it would not do; the more he
endeavored to shake the scene off from his mind, the more
it haunted him.
Though he persisted in a strict silence as to all that
he had seen or heard, yet his looks betrayed the uncom-
fortable night that he had passed. It was evident that
there was something wonderful hidden under this mys-
terious reserve. The doctor took him into the study,
locked the door, and sought to have a full and confidential
communication; but he could get nothing out of him.
Frau Ilsy took him aside into the pantry, but to as little
purpose; and Peter de Groodt held him by the button for
a full hour, in the church-yard, the very place to get at
the bottom of a ghost-story, but came off not a whit wiser
than the rest. It is always the case, however, that one
truth concealed makes a dozen current lies. It is like a
guinea locked up in a bank, that has a dozen paper repre-
sentatives. Before the day was over, the neighborhood
was full of reports. Some said that Dolph Heyliger
watched in the haunted house, with pistols loaded with
silver bullets; others, that he had a long talk with a spectre
without a head; others, that Doctor Knipperhausen and
the sexton had been hunted down the Bowery lane, and
quite into town, by a legion of ghosts of their customers.
Some shook their heads, and thought it a shame the doctor
should put Dolph to pass the night alone in that dismal


126 Mystery Tales
house, where he might be spirited away no one knew
whither; while others observed, with a shrug, that if the
devil did carry off the youngster, it would be but taking
his own.
These rumors at length reached the ears of the good
Dame Heyliger, and, as may be supposed, threw her into
a terrible alarm. For her son to have opposed himself to
danger from living foes, would have been nothing so dread-
ful in her eyes, as to dare alone the terrors of the haunted
house. She hastened to the doctor’s, and passed a great
part of the day in attempting to dissuade Dolph from re-
peating his vigil; she told him a score of tales, which
her gossiping friends had just related to her, of persons
who had been carried off, when watching alone in old
ruinous houses. It was all to no effect. Dolph’s pride,
as well as curiosity, was piqued. He endeavored to calm
the apprehensions of his mother, and to assure her that
there was no truth in all the rumors she had heard; she
looked at him dubiously and shook her head; but finding
his determination was not to be shaken, she brought him
a little thick Dutch Bible, with brass clasps, to take with
him, as a sword wherewith to fight the powers of darkness;
and, lest that might not be sufiicient, the housekeeper gave
him the Heidelberg catechism by way of dagger.
‘ The next night, therefore, Dolph took up his quarters
for the third time in the old mansion. Whether dream
or not, the same thing was repeated. Towards midnight,
when everything was still, the same sound echoed through
the empty halls, tramp—tramp—tramp! The stairs
were again ascended; the door again swung open; the old
man entered; walked round the room; hung up his hat,


128 Mystery Tales
place; but when he arrived there, the unknown had disap-
peared. The door remained fast barred and bolted; there
was no other mode of exit; yet the being, whatever he
might be, was gone. He unfastened the door, and looked
out into the fields. It was a hazy, moonlight night, so that
the eye could distinguish objects at some distance. He
thought he saw the unlmown in a footpath which led from
the door. He was not mistaken; but how bad he got out
of the house? He did not pause to think, but followed
on. The old man proceeded at a measured pace, without
looking about him, his footsteps sounding on the hard
ground. He passed through the orchard of apple-trees,
always keeping the footpath. It led to a well, situated in
a little hollow, which had supplied the farm with water.
Just at this well Dolph lost sight of him. He rubbed his
eyes and looked again; but nothing was to be seen of the
unknown. He reached the well, but nobody was there.
All the surrounding ground was open and clear; there was
no bush nor hiding-place. He looked down the well, and
saw, at a great depth, the reflection of the sky in the still
water. After remaining here for some time, without see-
ing or hearing anything more of his mysterious conductor,
he returned to the house, full of awe and wonder. He
bolted the door, groped his way back to bed, and it was
long before he could compose himself to sleep.
His dreams were strange and troubled. He thought
he was following the old man along the side of a great
river, until they came to a vessel on the point of sailing;
and that his conductor led him on board and vanished.
He remembered the commander of the vessel, a short
swarthy man, with crisped black hair, blind of one eye,


The Haunted House 129
and lame of one leg; but the rest of his dream was very
confused. Sometimes he was sailing; sometimes on shore;
now amidst storms and tempests, and now wandering
quietly in unknown streets. The figure of the old man
was strangely mingled up with the incidents of the dream,
and the whole distinctly wound up by his finding himself
on board of the vessel again, returning home, with a great
bag of money!
When he woke, the gray, cool light of dawn was streak-
ing the horizon, and the cocks passing the reveille from
farm to farm throughout the country. He rose more har-
assed and perplexed than ever. He was singularly con-
founded by all that he had seen and dreamt, and began
to doubt whether his mind was not affected, and whether
all that passing in his thoughts might not be mere feverish
fantasy. In his present state of mind, he did not feel
disposed to return immediately to the doctor’s, and un-
dergo the, cross-questioning of the household. He made
a scanty breakfast, therefore, on the remains of the last
night’s provisions, and then wandered out into the fields
to meditate on all that had befallen him. Lost in thought,
he rambled about, gradually approaching the town, until
the morning was far advanced, when he was aroused by
a hurry and bustle around him. He found himself near
the water’s edge, in a throng of people, hurrying to a pier,
where was a vessel ready to make sail. He was uncon-
sciously carried along by the impulse of the crowd, and
found that it was a sloop, on the point of sailing up the
Hudson to Albany. There was much leave-taking, and
kissing of old women and children, and great activity in
carrying on board baskets of bread and cakes, and pro-


130 Mystery Tales
visions of all kinds, notwithstanding the mighty joints
of meat that dangled over the stern; for a voyage to Al-
bany was an expedition of great moment in those days.
The commander of the sloop was hurrying about, and giv-
ing a world of orders, which were not very strictly attended
to; one man being busy in lighting his pipe, and another
in sharpening his snickersnec.
The appearance of the commander suddenly caught
Dolph’s attention. He was short and swarthy, with
crisped black hair; blind of one eye and lame of one leg—
the very commander that he had seen in his dream! Sur—
prised and aroused, he considered the scene more atten-
tively, and recalled still further traces of his dream; the
appearance of the vessel, of the river, and of images, a
variety of other objects accorded with the imperfect
vaguely rising to recollection.
As he stood musing on these circumstances, the captain
suddenly called out to him in Dutch, “ Step on board,
young man, or you’ll be left behind!” He was startled
by the summons; he saw that the sloop was cast loose, and
was actually moving from the pier; it seemed as if he
was actuated by some irresistible impulse; he sprang upon
the deck, and the next moment the sloop was hurried off
by the wind and tide. ‘ Dolph’s thoughts and feelings were
all in tumult and confusion. He had been strongly
worked upon by the events which had recently befallen
him, and could not but think there was some connection
between his present situation and his last night’s dream.
He felt as if under supernatural influence; and tried to
assure himself with an old and favorite maxim of his, that
“ one way or other all would turn out for the best.”


132 Mystery Tales
order, making his will, and having prayers said for him
in the Low Dutch churches.
In the course of such a voyage, therefore, Dolph was
satisfied he would have time enough to reflect, and to make
up his mind as to what he should do when he arrived at
Albany. The captain, with his blind eye and lame leg,
would, it is true, bring his strange dream to mind, and
perplex him sadly for a few moments; but of late his life
had been made up so much of dreams and realities, his
nights and days had been so jumbled together, that he
seemed to be moving continually in a delusion. There
is always, however, a kind of vagabond consolation in a
man’s having nothing in this world to lose; with this
Dolph comforted his heart, and determined to make the
most of the present enjoyment.
In the second day of the voyage they came to the high-
lands. It was the latter part of a calm, sultry day, that
they floated gently with the tide between these stern
mountains. There was that perfect quiet which prevails
over nature in the languor of summer heat; the turning
of a plank, or the accidental falling of an oar on deck;
was echoed from the mountain-side, and reverberated along
the shores; and if by chance the captain gave a shout of
command, there were airy tongues which mocked it from
every cliff.
Dolph gazed about him in mute delight and wonder at
these scenes of nature’s magnificence. To the left the
Dunderberg reared its woody precipices, height over
height, forest over forest, away into the deep summer sky.
To the right, strutted forth the bold promontory of An-
tony’s Nose, with a solitary eagle wheeling about it; while


The Haunted House 133
beyond, mountain succeeded mountain, until they seemed
to lock their arms together, and confine this mighty river
in their embraces. There was a feeling of quiet luxury
in gazing at the broad, green bosoms here and there scooped
out among the precipices; or at woodlands high in air,
nodding over the edge of some beetling bluif, and their
foliage all transparent in the yellow sunshine. -
In the midst of his admiration, Dolph remarked a pile
of bright, snowy clouds, peering above the western heights.
It was succeeded by another, and another, each seemingly
pushing onwards its predecessor, and towering, with
dazzling brilliancy, in the deep-blue atmosphere; and now
muttering peals of thunder were faintly heard rolling be-
hind the mountains. The river, hitherto still and glassy,
reflecting pictures of the sky and land, now showed a dark
ripple at a distance, as the breeze came creeping up it.
The fish-hawks wheeled and screamed, and sought their
nests on the high dry trees; the crows flew clamorously to
the crevices of the rocks, and all nature seemed conscious
of the approaching thunder-gust.
The clouds now rolled in volumes over the mountain-
tops; their summits still bright and snowy, but the lower
parts of an inky blackness. The rain began to patter
down in broad and scattered drops; the wind freshened,
and curled up the waves; at length it seemed as if the belly-
ing clouds were torn open by the mountain-tops, and com—
plete torrents of rain came rattling down. The lightning
leaped from cloud to cloud, and streamed quivering against
the rocks, splitting and rending the stoutest forest-trees.
The thunder burst in tremendous explosions; the peals
were echoed from mountain to mountain; they crashed


134 Mystery Tales
upon Dunderberg, and rolled up the long defile of the high-
lands, each headland making a new echo, until old Bull
Hill seemed to bellow back the storm.
For a time the scudding rack and mist, and the sheeted
rain, almost hid the landscape from the sight. There was
a fearful gloom, illumined still more fearfully by the
streams of lightning which glittered among the raindrops.
Never had Dolph beheld such an absolute warring of the
elements; it seemed as if the storm was tearing and rend—
ing its way through this mountain defile, and had brought
all the artillery of heaven into action.
The vessel was hurried on by the increasing wind, until
she came to where the river makes a sudden bend, the only
one in the whole course of its majestic career. Just as
they turned the point, a violent flaw of wind came sweep-
ing down a mountain gully, bending the forest before it,
and, in a moment, lashing up the river into white froth
and foam. The captain saw the danger, and cried out to
lower the sail. Before the order could be obeyed, the flaw
struck the sloop, and threw her on her beam ends. Every-
thing now was fright and confusion; the flapping of the
sails, the whistling and rushing of the wind, the bawling
of the captain and crew, the shrieking of the passengers,
all mingled with the rolling and bellowing of the thunder.
In the midst of the uproar the sloop righted; at the same
time the mainsail shifted, the boom came sweeping the
quarter-deck, and Dolph, who was gazing unguardedly at
the clouds, found himself, in a moment, floundering in
the river.
For once in his life one of his idle accomplishments was
of use to him. The many truant hours he had devoted


The Haunted House 135
to sporting in the Hudson had made him an expert swim-
mer; yet with all his strength and skill he found great
difficulty in reaching the shore. His disappearance from
the deck had not been noticed by the crew, who were all
occupied by their own danger. The sloop was driven
along with inconceivable rapidity. She had hard work to
weather a long promontory on the eastern shore, round
which the river turned, and which completely shut her
from Dolph’s view.
It was on a point of the western shore that he landed,
and, scrambling up the rocks, threw himself, faint and
exhausted, at the foot of a tree. By degrees the thunder-
gust passed over. The clouds rolled away to the east,
where they lay piled in feathery masses, tinted with
the last rosy rays of the sun. The distant play of the
lightning might be seen about the dark bases, and now
and then might be heard the faint muttering of the thun-
der. Dolph rose, and sought about to see if any path
led from the shore, but all was savage and trackless. The
rocks were piled upon each other; great trunks of trees
lay shattered about, as they had been blown down by the
strong winds which draw through these mountains, or had
fallen through age. The rocks, too, were overhung with
wild vines and briers, which completely matted them-
_ selves together, and opposed a barrier to all ingress; every
movement that he made shook down a shower from the
dripping foliage. He attempted to scale one of these
almost perpendicular heights; but, though strong and
agile, he found it an Herculean undertaking. Often he
was supported merely by crumbling projections of the
rock, and sometimes he clung to roots and branches of


136 Mystery Tales
trees, and hung almost suspended in the air. The wood-
pigeon came cleaving his whistling flight by him, and the .
eagle screamed from the brow of the impending clifl'.
As he was thus clambering, he was on the point of seizing
hold of a shrub to aid his ascent, when something rustled
among the leaves, and he saw a snake quivering along like
lightning, almost under his hand. It coiled itself up
immediately, in an attitude of defiance, with flattened head,
distended jaws, and quickly vibrating tongue, that played
like a little flame about its mouth. Dolph’s heart turned
faint within him, and he had well-nigh let go his hold and
tumbled down the precipice. The serpent stood on the
defensive but for an instant; and finding there was no
attack, glided away into a cleft of the rock. Dolph’s eye
followed it with fearful intensity, and saw a nest of adders,
knotted, and writhing, 'and hissing in the chasm. He
hastened with all speed from so frightful a neighborhood.
His imagination, full of this new horror, saw an adder in
every curling vine, and heard the tail of a rattlesnake
in every dry leaf that rustled.
At length he succeeded in scrambling to the summit of
a precipice; but it was covered by a dense forest. Wher-
ever he could gain a lookout between trees, he beheld
heights and cliffs, one rising beyond another, until huge
mountains overtopped the whole. There were no signs
of cultivation; no smoke curling among the trees to indi-
cate a human residence. Everything was wild and soli—
tary. As he was standing on the edge of a precipice
overlooking a deep ravine fringed with trees, his feet
detached a great fragment of rock; it fell, crashing its
way through the tree-tops, down into the chasm. A loud


The Haunted House 137
whoop, or rather yell, issued from the bottom of the glen;
the moment after there was a report of a gun; and a ball
came whistling over his head, cutting the twigs and leaves,
and burying itself deep in the bark of a chestnuttree.
Dolph did not wait for a second shot, but made a precip—
itate retreat; fearing every moment to hear the enemy
in pursuit. He succeeded, however, in returning un-
molested to the shore, and determined to penetrate no
farther into a country so beset with savage perils.
He sat himself down, dripping, disconsolately, on a
stone. What was to be done? Where was he to shelter
himself? The hour of repose was approaching; the birds
were seeking their nests, the bat began to flit about in the
twilight, and the night-hawk, soaring high in the heaven,
seemed to be calling out the stars. Night gradually
closed in, and wrapped everything inlgloom; and though
it was the latter part of summer, the breeze stealing along
the river, and among these dripping forests, was chilly
and penetrating, especially to a half-drowned man.
As he sat drooping and despondent in this comfortless
condition, he perceived a light gleaming through the trees
near the shore, where the winding of the river made a deep
bay. It cheered him with the hope of a human habitation,
where he might get something to appease the clamorous
cravings of his stomach, and what was equally necessary
in his shipwrecked condition, a comfortable shelter for
the night. With extreme difficulty he made his way
toward the light, along ledges of rock, down which he was
in danger of sliding into the river, and over great trunks
of fallen trees, some of which had been blown down in the
late storm, and lay so thickly together that he had to


138 Mystery Tales
struggle through their branches. At length he came to
the brow of a rock overhanging a small dell, whence the
light proceeded. It was from a fire at the foot of a great
tree in the midst of a grassy interval or plat among the
rocks. The fire cast up a red glare among the gray crags,
and impending trees, leaving chasms of deep gloom that
resembled entrances to caverns. A small brook rippled
close by, betrayed by the quivering reflection of the flame.
There were two figures moving about the fire, and others
squatted before it. As they were between him and the
light, they were in complete shadow; but one of them
happening to move round to the opposite side, Dolph- was
startled at perceiving, by the glare falling on painted
features, and glittering on silver ornaments, that he was
an Indian. He now looked more narrowly, and saw guns
leaning against a tree, and a dead body lying on the
ground. Here was the very foe that had fired at him
from the glen. He endeavored to retreat quietly, not
caring to intrust himself to these half-human beings in
so savage and lonely a place. It was too late; the Indian,
with that eagle quickness of eye so remarkable in his race,
perceived something stirring among the bushes on the
rock; he seized one of the guns that leaned against the
tree; one moment more, and Dolph might have had his
passion for adventure cured by a bullet. He halloed
loudly, with the Indian salutation of friendship; the
whole party sprang upon their feet ; the salutation was
returned, and the straggler was invited to join them at
the fire.
On approaching, he found, to his consolation, the party
was composed of white men as well as Indians. One,


The Haunted House 139
evidently the principal personage, or commander, was
. seated on a trunk of a tree before the fire. He was a
large, stout man, somewhat advanced in life, but hale and
hearty. His face was bronzed almost to the color of an
Indian’s; he had strong but rather jovial features, an
aquiline nose, and a mouth shaped like a mastiif’s. His
face was 'half thrown in shade by a broad hat, with a
buck’s tail in it. His gray hair hung short in his neck.
He wore a hunting-frock, with Indian leggins, and moc—
casins, and a tomahawk in the broad wampum-belt round
his waist. As Dolph caught a distinct view of his person
and features, something reminded him of the old man of
the haunted house. The man before him, however, was
different in dress and age; he was more cheery too in
aspect, and it was hard to find where the vague resem-
blance lay; but a resemblance there certainly was. Dolph
felt some degree of awe in approaching him; but was
assured by a frank, hearty welcome. He was still further
encouraged by perceiving that the dead body, which had
caused him some alarm, was that of a deer; and his sat-
isfaction was complete in discerning, by savory streams
from a kettle, suspended by a hooked stick over the fire,
that there was a part cooking for the evening’s repast.
He had, in fact, fallen in with a rambling hunting-
party, such as often took place in those days among the
settlers along the river. The hunter is always hospitable;
and nothing makes men more social and unceremonious
than meeting in the wilderness. The commander of the
party poured out a dram of cheering liquor to warm his
heart, and ordered one of his followers to fetch some gar-
ments from a pinnace, moored in a cove close by, while


140 Mystery Tales
those in which our hero was dripping might be dried before
the fire.
Dolph found, as he had suspected, that the shot from
the glen, which had come so near giving him his quietus
when on the precipice, was from the party before him.
He had nearly crushed one of them by the fragments of
rock which he had detached; and the jovial old hunter,
in the broad hat and buck—tail, had fired at the place where
he saw the bushes move, supposing it to be the sound of
some wild animal. He laughed heartily at the blunder,
it being what is considered an exceeding good joke among
hunters; “but faith, my lad,” said he, “if I had but
caught a glimpse of you to take sight at, you would have
followed the rock. Antony Vander Heyden is seldom
known to miss his aim.” These last words were at once
a clue to Dolph’s curiosity; and a few questions let him
completely into the character of the man before him and
of his band of woodland rangers. The commander in
the broad hat and hunting-frock was no less a personage
than the Heer Antony Vander Heyden, of Albany, of
whom Dolph had many a time heard. He was, in fact,
the hero of many a story, his singular humors and whim-
sical habits being matters of wonder to his quiet Dutch
neighbors. As he was a man of property, having had a
father before him from whom he inherited large tracts
of wild land, and whole barrels full of wampum, he could
indulge his humors without control. Instead of staying
quietly at home, eating and drinking at regular meal-times,
amusing himself by smoking his pipe on the bench before
the door, and then turning into a comfortable bed at night,
he delighted in all kinds of rough, wild expeditions; never


The Haunted House 141
so happy as when on a hunting-party in the wilderness,
sleeping under trees or bark sheds, or cruising down the
river, or on some woodland lake, fishing and fowling, and
living the Lord knows how.
“ It is lucky for you, young man,” said Antony Vander
Heyden, “ that you happened to be knocked overboard to-
day, as to-morrow morning we start early on our return
homewards; and you might then have looked in vain for
a meal among the mountains —— but come, lads, stir about!
stir about! Let’s see what prog we have for supper; the
kettle has boiled long enough; my stomach cries cupboard;
and I’ll warrant our guest is in no mood to dally with his
trencher.”
There was a bustle now in the little encampment; one
took off the kettle and turned a part of the contents inte
a huge wooden bowl. Another prepared a flat rock for a
table; while a third brought various utensils from the
pinnace; Heer Antony himself brought a flask or two of
precious liquor from his own private locker; knowing his
boon companions too well to trust any of them with the
key.
A rude but hearty repast was soon spread; consisting
of venison smoking from the kettle, with cold bacon, boiled
Indian corn, and mighty loaves of good brown household
bread. Never had Dolph made a more delicious repast;
and when he had washed it down with two or three
draughts from the Heer Antony’s flask, and felt the jolly
liquor sending its warmth through his veins, and glowing
round his very heart, he would not have changed his sit-
uation, no, not with the governor of the province.
The Heer Antony, too, grew chirping and joyous; told


142 Mystery Tales
half a dozen fat stories, at which his white followers
laughed immoderately, though the Indians, as usual, main-
tained an invincible gravity.
“ This is your true life, my boy!” said he, slapping
Dolph on the shoulder; “ a man is never a man till he can
defy wind and weather, range woods and wilds, sleep under
a tree, and live on bass-wood leaves! ”
The repast being ended, the Indians having drunk their
liquor, and smoked their pipes, now Wrapped themselves
in their blankets, stretched themselves on the ground, with
their feet to the fire, and soon fell asleep, like so many
tired hounds. The rest of the party remained chatting
before the fire, which the gloom of the forest, and the
dampness of the air from the late storm, rendered ex-
tremely grateful and comforting. The conversation grad—
ually moderated from the hilarity of supper-time, and
turned upon hunting-adventures, and exploits and perils
in the wilderness, many of which were so strange and
improbable, that I will not venture to repeat them, lest
the veracity of Antony Vander Heyden and his comrades
should be brought into question. There were many
legendary tales told, also, about the river, and the settle-
ments on its borders; in which valuable kind of lore the
Heer Antony seemed deeply versed. As the sturdy bush-
beater sat in a twisted root of a tree, that served him for
an arm-chair, dealing forth these wild stories, with the
fire gleaming on his strongly marked visage, Dolph was
again repeatedly perplexed by something that reminded
him of the phantom of the haunted house; some vague
resemblance not to be fixed upon any precise feature or


144 Mystery Tales
west passage, and, as he thought, ran his ship aground;
which they affirm was nothing more nor less than a spell
of these same wizards, to prevent his getting to China
in this direction.
The greater part, however, Heer Antony observed,
accounted for all the extraordinary circumstances attend-
ing this river, and the perplexities of the skippers who
navigated it, by the old legend of the Storm-ship which
haunted Point-no-Point. On finding Dolph to be utterly
ignorant of this tradition, the Heer stared at him for a
moment with surprise, and wondered where he had passed
his life, to be uninformed on so important a point of his-
tory. To pass away the remainder of the evening, there-
fore, he undertook the tale, as far as his memory would
serve, in the very words in which it had been written out
by Mynheer Selyne, an early poet of the New Nether-
landts. Giving, then, a stir to the fire, that sent up its
sparks among the trees like a little volcano, he adjusted
himself comfortably in his root of a tree, and throwing
back his head, and closing his eyes for a few moments,
to summon up his recollection, he related the following
legend.
THE ST OHM-SHIP
IN the golden age of the province of the New Nether-
lands, when under the sway of Wouter Van Twiller, other-
wise called the Doubter, the people of the Manhattoes were
alarmed one sultry afternoon, just about the time of the
summer solstice, by a tremendous storm of thunder and
lightning. The rain fell in such torrents as absolutely


The Haunted House 145
to spatter up and smoke along the ground. It seemed as
if the thunder rattled and rolled over the very roofs of the
houses; the lightning was seen to play about the church
of St. Nicholas, and to strive three times, in vain, to
strike its weather~cock. Garret Van Horne’s new chim-
ney was split almost from top to bottom; and Doifue
Mildeberger was struck speechless from his bald-faced
mare, ust as he was riding into town. In a word, it was
one of those unparalleled storms which only happen once
within the memory of that venerable personage known in
all towns by the appellation of “ the oldest inhabitant.”
Great was the terror of the good old women of the
Manhattoes. They gathered their children together, and
took refuge in the cellars; after having hung a shoe on
the iron point of every bedpost, lest it should attract the
lightning. At length the storm abated; the thunder sank
into a growl, and the setting sun, breaking from under
the fringed borders of the clouds, made the broad bosom
of the bay to gleam like a sea of molten gold.
The word was given from the fort that a ship was
standing up the bay. It passed from mouth to mouth, and
street to street, and soon put the little capital in a bustle.
The arrival of a ship, in those early times of the settle-
ment, was an event of vast importance to the inhabitants.
It brought them news from the old world, from the land
of their birth, from which they were so completely severed;
to the yearly ship, too, they looked for their supply of
luxuries, of finery, of comforts, and almost of necessaries.
The good vrouw could not have her new cap nor new gown
until the arrival of the ship; the artist waited for it for
his tools, the burgomaster for his pipe and his supply of


146 Mystery Tales
Hollands, the schoolboy for his top and marbles, and the
lordly landholder for the bricks with which he was to
build his new mansion. Thus every one, rich and poor,
great and small, looked out for the arrival of the ship.
It was the great yearly event of the town of New Amster-
dam; and from one end of the year to the other, the ship
—— the ship— the ship —was the continual topic of con-
versation.
The news from the fort, therefore, brought all the
populace down to the Battery, to behold the wished-for
sight. It was not exactly the time when she had been
expected to arrive, and the circumstance was a matter of
some speculation. Many were the groups collected about
the Battery. Here and there might be seen a burgo-
master, of slow and pompous gravity, giving his opinion
with great confidence to a crowd of old women and idle
boys. At another place was a knot of old weather-beaten
fellows, who had been seamen 0r fishermen in their times,
and were great authorities on such occasions; these gave
different opinions, and caused great disputes among their
several adherents; but the man most looked up to, and
followed and watched by the crowd, was Hans Van Pelt,
an old Dutch sea-captain retired from service, the nautical
oracle of the place. He reconnoitered the ship through
an ancient telescope, covered with tarry canvas, hummed
a Dutch tune to himself, and said nothing. A hum, how-
ever, from Hans Van Pelt, had always more weight with
the public than a speech from another man.
In the meantime the ship became more distinct to the
naked eye ; she was a stout, round, Dutch-built vessel, with
high bow and poop, and bearing Dutch colors. The eve-


The Haunted House 147
ning sun gilded her bellying canvas, as she came riding
over the long waving billows. The sentinel who had given
notice of her approach, declared, that he first got sight of
her when she was in the centre of the bay; and that she
broke suddenly on his sight, just as if she had come out
of the bosom of the black thunder-cloud. The by-standers
looked at H-ans Van Pelt, to see what he would say to this
report; Hans Van Pelt screwed his mouth closer together,
and said nothing; upon which some shook their heads, and
others shrugged their shoulders.
The ship was now repeatedly hailed, but made no reply,
and passing by the fort, stood on up the Hudson. A gun
was brought to bear on her, and, with some difficulty,
loaded and fired by Hans Van Pelt, the garrison not being
expert in artillery. The shot seemed absolutely to pass
through the ship and to skip along the water on the other
side, but no notice was taken of it! What was strange,
she had all her sails set, and sailed right against wind and
tide, which were both down the river. Upon this Hans
Van Pelt, who was likewise harbor-master, ordered his
boat, and set off to board her; but after rowing two or
three hours, he returned without success. Sometimes he
would get within one or two hundred yards of her, and
then, in a twinkling, she would be half a mile off. Some
said it was because his oarsmen, who were rather pursy
and short-winded, stopped every now and then to take
breath, and spit on their hands; but this it is probable was
a mere scandal. He got near enough, however, to see the
crew, who were all'dressed in the Dutch style, the oflicers
in doublets and high hats and feathers; not a word was
spoken by any one on board; they stood as motionless as


148 Mystery Tales
so many statues, and the ship seemed as if left to her own
government. Thus she kept on, away up the river, less-
ening and lessening in the evening sunshine, until she
faded from sight, like a little white cloud melting away
in the summer sky.
The appearance of this ship threw the governor into one
of the deepest doubts that ever beset him in the whole
course of his administration. Fears were entertained for
the security of the infant settlements on the river, lest this
might be an enemy’s ship in disguise, sent to take posses-
sion. The governor called together his council repeatedly
to assist him with their conjectures. He sat in his chair
of state, built of timber from the sacred forest of the
Hague, smoking his long jasmin pipe, and listening to
all that his counselors had to say on a subject about which
they knew nothing; but in spite of all the conjecturing
0f the sagest and oldest heads, the governor still continued
to doubt.
Messengers were dispatched to different places on the
river; but they returned without any tidings—the ship
had made no port. Day after day, and week after week,
elapsed, but she never returned down the Hudson. As,
however, the council seemed solicitous for intelligence,
they had it in abundance. The captains of the sloops
seldom arrived without bringing some report of having
seen the strange ship at diiferent parts of the river; some-
times near the Palisadoes, sometimes oif Orcton Point,
and sometimes in the highlands. The crews of the sloops,
it is true, generally differed among themselves in their
accounts of these apparitions; but that may have arisen
from the uncertain situations in which they saw her.


The Haunted House 149
Sometimes it was by the flashes of the thunder-storm
lighting up a pitchy night, and giving glimpses of her
careering across Tappaan Zee, or the wide waste of Haver-
straw Bay. At one moment she would appear close upon
them, as if likely to run them down, and would throw them
into great bustle and alarm; but the next flash would show
her far ofi’, always sailing against the wind. Sometimes,
in quiet moonlight nights, she would be seen under some
high bluff of the highlands, all in deep shadow, excepting
her topsails glittering in the moonbeams; by the time,
however, that the voyagers reached the place, no ship was
to be seen; and when they had passed on for some distance,
and looked back, behold! there she was again, with her
topsails in the moonshine! Her appearance was always
just after, or just before, or just in the midst of unruly
weather; and she was known among the skippers and voy-
agers of the Hudson by the name of “ the storm-ship.”
These reports perplexed the governor and his council
more than ever; and it would be endless to repeat the con—
jectures and opinions uttered on the subject. Some
quoted cases in point, of ships seen off the coast of New
England, navigated by witches and goblins. Old Hans
Van Pelt, who had been more than once to the Dutch
colony at the Cape of Good Hope, insisted that this must
be the Flying Dutchman, which had so long haunted Table
Bay; but being unable to make port, had now sought an-
other harbor. Others suggested, that, if it really was a
supernatural apparition, as there was every natural rea-
son to believe, it might be Hendrick Hudson, and his crew
of the Halfmoon; who, it was well known, had once run
aground in the upper part of the river in seeking a north-


150 Mystery Tales
west passage to China. This opinion had very little
weight with the governor, but it passed current out of
doors; for indeed it had already been reported that Hen-
drick Hudson and his crew haunted the Kaatskill Moun-
tains; and it appeared very reasonable to suppose, that
his ship might infest the river where the enterprise was
baflied, or that it might hear the shadowy crew to their
periodical revels in the mountain.
Other events occurred to occupy the thoughts and
doubts of the sage Wouter and his council, and the storm-
ship ceased to be a subject of deliberation at the board.
It continued, however, a matter of popular belief and mar-
velous anecdote through the whole time of the Dutch gov-
ernment, and particularly just before the capture of New
Amsterdam, and the subjugation of the province by the
English squadron. About that time the storm-ship was
repeatedly seen in the Tappaan Zee, and about Weehawk,
and even down as far as Hoboken; and her appearance
was supposed to be ominous of the approaching squall in
public affairs, and the downfall of Dutch domination.
Since that time we have no authentic accounts of her;
though it is said she still haunts the highlands, and cruises
about Point-no-Point. People who live along the river
insist that they sometimes see her in summer moonlight;
and that in a deep still midnight they have heard the
chant of her crew, as if heaving the lead; but sights and
sounds are so deceptive along the mountainous shores, and
about the wide bays and long reaches of this great river,
that I confess I have very strong doubts upon the subject.
It is certain, nevertheless, that strange things have been
seen in these highlands in storms, which are considered


The Haunted House 151
as connected with the old story of the ship. The captains
of the river craft talk of a little Dutch goblin, in trunk-
hose and sugar-loafed hat, with a speaking-trumpet in his
hand, which they say keeps about the Dunderberg. They
declare that they have heard him, in stormy weather, in
the midst of the turmoil, giving orders in Low Dutch for
the piping up of a fresh gust of wind, or the rattling oif
of another thunder-clap. That sometimes he has been
seen surrounded by a crew of little imps in broad breeches
and short doublets; tumbling head-over-heels in the rack
and mist, and playing a thousand gambols in the air; or
buzzing like a swarm of flies about Antony’s Nose; and
that, at such times, the hurry-scurry of the storm was
always greatest. One time a sloop, in passing by the
Dunderberg, was overtaken by a thunder-gust, that came
scouring round the mountain, and seemed to burst just
over the vessel. Though tight and well ballasted, she la-
bored dreadfully, and the water came over the gunwale.
All the crew were amazed when it was discovered that
there was a little white sugar-loaf hat on the mast-head,
known at once to be the hat of the Heer of the Dunderberg.
Nobody, however, dared to climb to the mast-head, and
get rid of this terrible hat. The sloop continued laboring
and rocking, as if she would have rolled her mast over-
board, and seemed in continual danger either of upsetting
or of running on shore. In this way she drove quite
through the highlands, until she had passed Pollopol’s
Island, where, it is said, the jurisdiction of the Dunderberg
potentate ceases. No sooner had she passed this bourn,
than the little hat spun up into the air like a top, whirled up
all the clouds into a vortex, and hurried them back to the


152 Mystery Tales
summit of the Dunderberg; while the sloop righted her-
self, and sailed on as quietly as if in a mill-pond. Noth-
ing saved her from utter wreck but the fortunate circum-
stance of having a horse-shoe nailed against the mast,— a
wise precaution against evil spirits, since adopted by all
the Dutch captains that navigate this haunted river.
“ Such,” said Antony Vander Heyden, “ are a few of
the stories written down by Selyne, the poet, concerning
the storm-ship,—— which he affirms to have brought a crew
of mischievous imps into the province, from some old
ghost-ridden country of Europe. I could give a host
more, if necessary; for all the accidents that so often befall
the river craft in the highlands are said to be tricks played
oil by these imps of the Dunderberg; but I see that you are
nodding, so let us turn in for the night.”
The moon had just raised her silver horns above the
round back of old Bull Hill, and lit up the gray rocks and
shagged forests, and glittered on the waving bosom of the
river. The night-dew was falling, and the late gloomy
mountains began to soften and put on a gray aérial tint
in the dewy light. The hunters stirred the fire, and threw
on fresh fuel to qualify the damp of the night-air. They .
then prepared a bed of branches and dry leaves under a
ledge of rocks for Dolph; while Antony Vander Heyden,
wrapping himself in a huge coat of skins, stretched him-
self before the fire. It was some time, however, before
Dolph could close his eyes. He lay contemplating the
strange scene before him: the wild woods and rocks
around; the fire throwing fitful gleams on the faces of the
' Sleeping savages; and the Heer Antony, too, who so sin-


The Haunted House I 153
gularly, yet vaguely, reminded him of the nightly visitant
to the haunted house. Now and then he heard the cry
of some wild animal from the forest; or the hooting of
the owl; or the notes of the whippoorwill, which seemed
to abound among these solitudes ; or the splash of a stur-
geon, leaping out of the river and falling back full-length
on its placid surface. He contrasted all this with his ac-
customed nest in the garret-room of the doctor’s mansion;
—where the only sounds at night were the church-clock
telling the hour; the drowsy voice of the watchman, drawl-
ing out all was well; the deep snoring of the doctor’s
clubbed nose from below-stairs; or the cautious labors of
some carpenter rat gnawing in the wainscot. His thoughts
then wandered to his poor old mother; what would she
think of his mysterious disappearance — what anxiety and
distress would she not suffer? This thought would con-
tinually intrude itself to mar his present enjoyment. It
brought with it a feeling of pain and compunction, and he
fell asleep with the tears yet standing in his eyes.
At an early hour of the next day, after a hearty mom-
ing’s meal, the encampment broke up, and our adven-
turers embarked in the pinnace of Antony Vander Hey-
den. There being no wind for the sails, the Indians
rowed her gently along, keeping time to a kind of chant
of one of the white men. The day was serene and beau-
tiful; the river without a wave; and as the vessel cleft the
glassy water, it left a long, undulating track behind. As
they coasted along the bases of the mountains, the Heer
Antony pointed out to Dolph a bald eagle, the sovereign
of these regions, who sat perched on a dry tree that pro-
jected over the river, and, with eye turned upwards,


154 Mystery Tales
seemed to be drinking in the splendor of the morning sun.
Their approach disturbed the monarch’s meditations. He
first spread one wing, and then the other; balanced him-
self for a moment, and then, quitting his perch with dig-
nified composure, wheeled slowly over their heads. Dolph
snatched up a gun, and sent a whistling ball after him,
that out some of the feathers from his wing; the report
of the gun leaped sharply from rock to rock, and awakened
a thousand echoes; but the monarch of the air sailed calmly
on, ascending higher and higher, and wheeling widely as
he ascended, soaring up the green bosom of the woody
mountain, until he disappeared over the brow of a beetling
precipice. Dolph felt in a manner rebuked by this proud
tranquillity, and almost reproached himself for having so
wantonly insulted this majestic bird. Heer Antony told
him, laughing, to remember that he was not yet out of the
territories of the lord of the Dunderberg; and an old Indian
shook his head, and observed that there was bad luck in
killing an eagle; the hunter, on the contrary, should always
leave him a portion of his spoils.
Nothing, however, occurred to molest them on their
voyage. They passed pleasantly through magnificent
and lonely scenes, until they came to where Pollopol’s
Island lay, like a floating bower at the extremity of the
highlands. Here they landed, until the heat of the day
should abate, or a breeze spring up that might supersede
the labor of the oar. Some prepared the mid-day meal,
while others reposed under the shade of the trees, in luxuri-
ous summer indolence, looking drowsily forth upon the
beauty of the scene.
But I forbear to dwell on the particulars of their cruise


s The Haunted House 155
along the river; this vagrant, amphibious life, careering
across silver sheets of water; coasting wild 'woodland
shores; banqueting on shady promontories, with the spread-
ing tree overhead, the river curling its light foam to one’s
feet, and distant mountain, and rock, and tree, and snowy
cloud, and deep-blue sky, all mingling in summer beauty
before one.
When encamped by the water-side, some of the party
would go into the woods and hunt; others would fish; some-
times they would amuse themselves by shooting at a mark,
by leaping, by running, by wrestling; and Dolph gained
great favor in the eyes of Antony Vander Heyden, by his
skill and adroitness in all these exercises; which the Heer
considered as the highest of manly accomplishments.
Thus did they coast jollily on, choosing only the pleas-
ant hours for voyaging; sometimes in the cool morning
dawn, sometimes in the sober evening twilight, and some—
times when the moonshine spangled the crisp curling waves
that whispered along the sides of their little bark. Never
had Dolph felt so completely in his element; never had he
met with anything so completely to his taste as this wild
hep-hazard life. He was the very man to second Antony
Vander Heyden in his rambling humors, and gained
continually on his affections. The heart of the old bush-
whacker yearned toward the young man, who seemed thus
growing up in his own likeness; and as they approached
to the end of their voyage, he could not help inquiring a
little into his history. Dolph frankly told him his course
of life, his severe medical studies, his literary proficiency,
and his very dubious prospects. The Heer was shocked
to find that such amazing talents and accomplishments


156 M ystery Tales
were to be cramped and buried under a doctor’s wig. He
had a sovereign contempt for the healing art, having never
had any other physician than the butcher. He bore a
mortal grudge to all kinds of study also, ever since he had
been flogged about an unintelligible book when he was a.
boy. But to think that a young fellow like Dolph, of such
wonderful abilities, who could shoot, fish, run, jump, ride,
and wrestle, should be obliged to roll pills, and administer
juleps for a living —’twas monstrous! He told Dolph
never to despair, but to “ throw physic to the dogs” ; for
a young fellow of his prodigious talents could never fail
to make his way. “ As you seem to have no acquaintance
in Albany,” said Heer Antony, “ you shall go home with
me, and remain under my roof until you can look about
you; and in the meantime we can take an occasional bout
at shooting and fishing, for it is a pity that such talents
should lie idle.”
Dolph, who was at the mercy of chance, was not hard
to be persuaded. Indeed, on turning over matters in his
mind, which he did very sagely and deliberately, he could
not but think that Antony Vander Heyden was, “somehow
or other,” connected with the story of the haunted house;
that the misadventure in the highlands, which had thrown
them so strangely together, was, “somehow or other,” to
work out something good.
On their arrival at Albany, the sight of Dolph’s com-
panion seemed to cause universal satisfaction. Many
were the greetings at the river-side, and the salutations in
the streets; the dogs bounded before him; the boys
whooped as he passed; everybody seemed to know Antony
Vander Heyden. Dolph followed on in silence, admiring


The Haunted House 157
the neatness of this worthy burgh; for in those days
Albany was in all its glory, and inhabited almost exclu-
sively by the descendants of the original Dutch settlers,
not having as yet been discovered and colonized by the
restless people of New England. Everything was quiet
and orderly; everything was conducted calmly and lei-
surely; no hurry, no bustle, no struggling and scrambling
for existence. The grass grew about the unpaved streets,
and relieved the eye by its refreshing verdure. Tall syca-
mores or pendent willows shaded the houses, with cater-
pillars swinging, in long silken strings, from their
branches; or moths, fluttering about like coxcombs, in joy
at their gay transformation. The houses were built in
the old Dutch style, with the gable-ends towards the street.
The thrifty housewife was seated on a bench before her
door, in close-crimped cap, bright-flowered gown, and white
apron, busily employed in knitting. The husband smoked
his pipe on the opposite bench; and the little pet negro girl,
seated on the step at her mistress’s feet, was industriously
plying her needle. The swallows sported about the eaves,
or skimmed along the streets, and brought back some rich
booty for their clamorous young; and the little house-
keeping wren flew in and out of a Lilliputian house, or
an old hat nailed against the wall. The cows were coming
home, lowing through the streets, to be milked at their
owner’s door; and if, perchance, there were any loiterers,
some negro urchin, with a long goad, was gently urging
them homewards.
As Dolph’s companion passed on, he received a tranquil
nod from the burghers, and a friendly word from their
wives; all calling him familiarly by the name of Antony.


158 Mystery Tales
The Heer did not pause to have his usual jokes with them,
for he was impatient to 'reach his home. At length they
arrived at his mansion. It was of some magnitude, in the
Dutch style, with large iron figures on the gables, that gave
the date of its erection, and showed that it had been built
in the earliest times of the settlement.
The news of Heer Antony’s arrival had preceded him,
and the whole household was on the look-out. A crew of
negroes, large and small, had collected in front of the house
to receive him. The old, white-headed ones, who had
grown gray in his service, grinned for joy, and made many
awkward bows and grimaces, and the little ones capered
about his knees. But the most happy being in the house-
hold was a little, plump, blooming lass, his only child,
and the darling of his heart. She came bounding out of
the house; but the sight of a strange young man with her
father called up, for a moment, all the bashfulness of a
homebred damsel. Dolph gazed at her with wonder and
delight; never had he seen, as he thought, anything so
comely in the shape of a woman. She was dressed in the
good old Dutch taste, with long stays and full, short petti-
coats. Her hair, turned up under a small round cap, dis-
played the fairness of her forehead; she had fine, blue,
laughing eyes, a trim, slender waist —- but, in a word, she
was a little Dutch divinity; and Dolph, who never stopped
half-way in a new impulse, fell desperately in love with
her.
Dolph was now ushered into the house with a hearty
welcome. In the interior was a mingled display of Heer
Antony’s tastes and habits, and of the opulence of his pred-
ecessors. The chambers were furnished with good old


160 Mystery Tales
bench. He had already got on intimate terms; for those
were not times of false reserve and idle ceremony; and,
besides, there is something wonderfully propitious to a
lover’s suit in the delightful dusk of a long summer eve-
ning; it gives courage to the most timid tongue, and hides
the blushes of the bashful. The stars alone twinkled
brightly; and now and then a fire—fly streamed his transient
light before the window, or, wandering into the room,
flew gleaming about the ceiling.
What Dolph whispered in her ear that long summer eve—
ning, it is impossible to say; his words were so low and
indistinct, that they never reached the ear of the historian.
It is probable, however, that they were to the purpose; for
he had a natural talent at pleasing the sex, and was never
long in company with a petticoat without paying proper
court to it. In the meantime the visitors, one by one,
departed; Antcry Vander Heyden, who had fairly talked
himself silent, sat nodding alone in his chair by the door,
when he was suddenly aroused by a hearty salute with
which Dolph Heyliger had unguardedly rounded off one
of his periods, and which echoed through the still chamber
like the report of a pistol. The Heer started up, rubbed
his eyes, called for lights, and observed that it was high
time to go to bed; though, on parting for the night, he
squeezed Dolph heartily by the hand, looked kindly in his
face, and shook his head knowingly; for the Heer well re-
membered what he himself had been at the youngster’s age.
The chamber in which our hero was lodged was spacious,
and panelled with oak. It was furnished with clothes-
presses, and mighty chests of drawers, well waxed, and
glittering with brass ornaments. These contained ample


The Haunted House 161
stock of family linen; for the Dutch housewives had
always a laudable pride in showing off their household
treasures to strangers.
Dolph’s mind, however, was too full to take particular
note of the objects around him; yet he could not help con-
tinually comparing the free, open-hearted cheeriness of
this establishment with the starveling, sordid, joyless
housekeeping at Doctor Knipperhausez’s. Still some-
thing marred the enjoyment; the idea that he must take
leave of his hearty host and pretty hostess, and cast himself
once more adrift upon the world. To linger here would
be folly; he should only get deeper in love; and for a poor
varlet, like himself, to aspire to the daughter of the great
Heer Vander Heyden -— it was madness to think of such
a thing! The very kindness that the girl had shown
towards him prompted him, on reflection, to hasten his
departure; it would be a poor return for the frank hos-
pitality of his host to entangle his daughter’s heart in
an injudicious attachment.
“ This is a fine conclusion, truly, of my voyage,” said
he, as he almost buried himself in a sumptuous feather-
bed, and drew the fresh white sheets up to his chin.
“Here am I, instead of finding a bag of money to carry
home, launched in a strange place, with scarcely a stiver
in my pocket; and, what is worse, have jumped ashore up
to my very ears in love into the bargain. However,”
added he, after some pause, stretching himself, and turn-
ing himself in bed, “ I’m in good quarters for the present,
at least; so I’ll e’en enjoy the present moment, and let the
next take care of itself; I dare say all will work out,
‘ somehow or other,’ for the best.”


162 Mystery Tales
As he said these words, he reached out his hand to ex-
tinguish the candle, when he was suddenly struck with
astonishment and dismay, for he thought he beheld the
phantom of the haunted house, staring on him from a
dusky part of the chamber. A second look reassured him,
as he perceived that what he had taken for the spectre
was, in fact, nothing but a Flemish portrait, hanging in
a shadowy corner, just behind a clothes-press. It was,
however, the precise representation of his nightly visitor.
The same cloak and belted j erkin, the same grizzled beard
and fixed eye, the same broad slouched hat, with a feather
hanging over one side. Dolph now called to mind the re-
semblance he had frequently remarked between his host
and the old man of the haunted house; and was fully con-
vinced they were in some way connected, and that some
especial destiny had governed his voyage. He lay gazing
on the portrait with almost as much awe as he had gazed
on the ghostly original, until the shrill house-clock warned
him of the lateness of the hour. He put out the light;
but remained for a long time turning over these curious
circumstances and coincidences in his mind, until he fell
asleep. His dreams partook of the nature of his waking
thoughts. He fancied that he still lay gazing on the pic-
ture, until, by degrees, it became animated; that the
figure descended from the wall, and walked out of the
room; that he followed it, and found himself by the well
to which the old man pointed, smiled on him, and dis-
appeared.
In the morning, when he waked, he found his host
standing by his bedside, who gave him a hearty morning’s
salutation, and asked him how he had slept. Dolph an-


The Haunted House 163
swered cheerily; but took occasion to inquire about the
portrait that hung against the wall. “Ah,” said Heer
Antony, “that’s a portrait of old Killian Vander Spiegel,
once a burgomaster of Amsterdam, who, on some popular
troubles, abandoned Holland, and came over to the
province during the government of Peter Stuyvesant. He
was my ancestor by the mother’s side, and an old miserly
curmudgeon he was. When the English took possession
of New Amsterdam, in 1664, he retired into the country.
He fell into a melancholy, apprehending that his wealth
would be taken from him and he come to beggary. He
turned all his property into cash, and used to hide it away.
He was for a year or two concealed in various places,
fancying himself sought after by the English, to strip him
of his wealth; and finally he was found dead in his bed
one morning, without any one being able to discover where
he had concealed the greater part of his money.”
When his host had left the room, Dolph remained for
some time lost in thought. His whole mind was occupied
by what he had heard. Vander Spiegel was his mother’s
family name; and he recollected to have heard her speak
of this very Killian Vander Spiegel as one of her an—
cestors. He had heard her say, too, that her father was
Killian’s rightful heir, only that the old man died without
leaving anything to be inherited. It now appeared that
Heer Antony was likewise a descendant, and perhaps an
heir also, of this poor rich man; and that thus the Hey-
ligers and the Vander Heydens were remotely connected.
“What,” thought he, “if, after all, this is the interpre-
tation of my dream, that this is the way I am to make my
fortune by this voyage to Albany, and that I am to find


164 Mystery Tales
the old man’s hidden wealth in the bottom of that well?
But what an odd roundabout mode of communicating the
matter! Why the plague could not the old goblin have
told me about the well at once, without sending me all the
way to Albany, to hear a story that was to send me all the
way back again ? ”
These thoughts passed through his mind while he was
dressing. He descended the stairs, full of perplexity,
when the bright face of Marie Vander Heyden suddenly
beamed in smiles upon him, and seemed to give him a clue
to the whole mystery. “After all,” thought he, “the old
goblin is in the right. If I am to get his' wealth, he
means that I shall marry his pretty descendant; thus both
branches of the family will again be united, and the prop-
erty go on in the proper channel.”
No sooner did this idea enter his head, than it carried
conviction with it. He was now all impatience to hurry
back and secure the treasure, which, he did not doubt, lay
at the bottom of the well, and which he feared every mo-
ment might be discovered by some other person. “Who
knows,” thought he, “but this night-walking old fellow
of the haunted house may be in the habit of haunting every
visitor, and may give a hint to some shrewder fellow than
myself, who will take a shorter cut to the well than by the
way of Albany?” He wished a thousand times that the
babbling old ghost was laid in the Red Sea, and his ram-
bling portrait with him. He was in a perfect fever to de-
part. Two or three days elapsed before any opportunity
presented for returning down the river. They were ages
to Dolph, notwithstanding that he was basking in the


The Haunted House 165
smiles of the pretty Marie, and daily getting more and more
enamored.
At length the very sloop from which he had been
knocked overboard prepared to make sail. Dolph made
an awkward apology to his host for his sudden departure.
Antony Vander Heyden was sorely astoniw. He had
concerted half a dozen excursions into the W1 erness; and
his Indians were actually preparing for a grand expedition
to one of the lakes. He took Dolph aside, and exerted
his eloquence to get him to abandon all thoughts of busi-
ness and to remain with him, but in vain; and he at length
gave up the attempt, observing, “ that it was a thousand
pities so fine a young man should throw himself away.”
Heer Antony, however, gave him a hearty shake by the
hand at parting, with a favorite fowling-piece, and an
invitation to come to his house whenever be revisited
Albany. The pretty little Marie said nothing; but as he
gave her a farewell kiss, her dimpled cheek turned pale,
and a tear stood in her eye.
Dolph sprang lightly on board of the vessel. They
hoisted sail; the wind was fair; they soon lost sight of
Albany, its green hills and embowered islands. They
were wafted gayly past the Kaatskill Mountains, whose
fairy heights were bright and cloudless. They passed
prosperously through the highlands, without any molesta-
tion from the Dunderberg goblin and his crew; they swept
on across Haverstraw Bay, and by Croton Point, and
through the Tappaan Zee, and under the Palisadoes, until,
in the afternoon of the third day, they saw the promontory
of Hoboken hanging like a cloud in the air; and, shortly


166 Mystery Tales
after, the roofs of the Manhattoes rising out of the water.
Dolph’s first care was to repair to his mother’s house;
for he was continually goaded by the idea of the uneasi-
ness she must experience on his account. He was puzzling
his brains, as he went along, to think how he should account
for his absence without betraying the secrets of the haunted
house. In the midst of these cogitations he entered the
street in which his mother’s house was situated, when he
was thunderstruck at beholding it a heap of ruins.
There had evidently been a great fire, which had de-
stroyed several large houses, and the humble dwelling of
poor Dame Heyliger had been involved in the conflagration.
The walls were not so completely destroyed, but that Dolph
could distinguish some traces of the scene of his childhood.
The fireplace, about which he had often played, still re-
mained, ornamented with Dutch tiles, illustrating passages
in Bible history, on which he had many a time gazed with
admiration. Among the rubbish lay the wreck of the good
dame’s elbow-chair, from which she had given him so many
a wholesale precept; and hard by it was the family Bible,
with brass clasps; now, alas! reduced almost to a cinder.
For a moment Dolph was overcome by this dismal sight,
for he was seized with the fear that his mother had
perished in the flames. He was relieved, however, from
his horrible apprehension by one of the neighbors, who
happened to come by and informed him that his mother was
yet alive.
The good woman had, indeed, lost everything by this
unlooked-for calamity; for the populace had been so intent
upon saving the fine furniture of her rich neighbors, that
the little tenement, and the little all of poor Dame Hey-


The Haunted House 167
liger, had been suffered to consume without interruption;
nay, had it not been for the gallant assistance of her old
crony, Peter de Groodt, the worthy dame and her cat
might have shared the fate of -their habitation.
As it was, she had been overcome with fright and afiiic-
tion, and lay ill in body and sick at heart. The public,
however, had showed her its wonted kindness. The furni-
ture of her rich neighbors being, as far as possible, rescued
from the flames; themselves duly and ceremoniously
visited and condoled with on the injury of their property,
and their ladies commiserated on the agitation of their
nerves; the public, at length, began to recollect something
about poor Dame Heyliger. She forthwith became again
a subject of universal sympathy and it was now deter-
mined, in good earnest, that something ought to be done
for her without delay. The Dominie, therefore, put up
prayers for her on Sunday, in which all the congregation
joined most heartily. Doctor Knipperhausen, too, visited
her professionally, and gave her abundance of advice
gratis, and was universally lauded for his charity. As to
her old friend, Peter de Groodt, he was a poor man, whose
pity, and prayers, and advice could be of but little avail,
so he gave her all that was in his power—he gave her
shelter.
To the humble dwelling of Peter de Groodt, then, did
Dolph turn his steps. On his way thither he recalled all
the tenderness and kindness of his simple-hearted parent,
her indulgence of his errors, her blindness to his faults;
and then he bethought himself of his own idle, harum—
scarum life. “ I’ve been a sad scapegrace,” said Dolph,
shaking his head sorrowfully. “ I’ve been a complete


168 Mystery Tales
sink-pocket, that’s the truth of it -— but,” added he briskly,
and clasping his hands, “ only let her live — only let her
live— and I will show myself indeed a son!”
As Dolph approached the house he met Peter de Groodt
coming out of it. The old man started back aghast, doubt—
ing whether it was not a ghost that stood before him. It
being bright daylight, however, Peter soon plucked up
heart, satisfied that no ghost dare show his face in such
clear sunshine. Dolph now learned from the worthy
sexton the consternation and rumor to which his mysteri-
ous disappearance had given rise. It had been universally
believed that he had been spirited away by those hobgoblin
gentry that infested the haunted house; and old Abraham
Vandozer, who lived by the great buttonwood-trees, near
the three-mile stone, affirmed that he had heard a terrible
noise in the air, as he was going home late at night, which
seemed just as if a flock of wild geese were overhead,
passing off towards the northward. The haunted house
was, in consequence, looked upon with ten times more awe
than ever; nobody would venture to pass a night in it for
the world, and even the doctor had ceased to make his ex-
peditions to it in the daytime.
It required some preparation before Dolph’s return
could be made known to his mother, the poor soul having
bewailed him as lost; and her spirits having been sorely
broken down by a number of comforters, who daily cheered
her with stories of ghosts, and of people carried away by
the devil. He found her confined to her bed, with the
other member of the Heyliger family, the good dame’s cat,
purring beside her, but sadly singed, and utterly de-
spoiled of those whiskers which were the glory of her


The Haunted House 169
physiognomy. The poor woman threw her arms about
Dolph’s neck. “ My boy! my boy! art thou still alive?”
For a time she seemed to have forgotten all her losses
and troubles in her joy at his return. Even the sage
grimalkin showed indubitable signs of joy at the return
of the youngster.
The good dame’s eyes glistened as she saw one being at
least, besides herself, rejoiced at her son’s return. “ Tib
knows thee! poor dumb beast! ” said she, smoothing down
the mottled coat of her favorite; then recollecting herself,
with a melancholy shake of the head, “Ah, my poor
.Dolph! ” exclaimed she, “thy mother can help thee no
longer! She can no longer help herself! What will
become of thee, my poor boy! ”
“ Mother,” said Dolph, “ don’t talk in that strain; I’ve
been too long a charge upon you; it’s now my part to take
care of you in your old days. Come! be of good cheer!
you, and I, and Tib will all see better days. I’m here,
you see, young, and sound, and hearty; then don’t let us
despair; I dare say things will all, ‘somehow or other,’
turn out for the best.”
While this scene was going on with the Heyliger fam-
ily, the news was carried to Doctor Knipperhausen of the
safe return of his disciple. The little doctor scarce knew
whether to rejoice or be sorry at the tidings. He was
happy at having the foul reports which had prevailed con-
cerning his country mansion thus disproved; but he grieved
at having his disciple, of whom he had supposed himself
fairly disencumbered, thus drifting back, a heavy charge
upon his hands. While balancing between these two feel-
ings, he was determined by the counsels of Frau Ilsy, who


170 Mystery Tales
advised him to take advantage of the truant absence of
the youngster, and shut the door upon him forever.
At the hour of bedtime, therefore, when it was sup-
posed the recreant disciple would seek his old quarters,
everything was prepared for his reception. Dolph, hav-
ing talked his mother into a state of tranquillity, sought
the mansion of his quondam master, and raised the knocker
with a faltering hand. Scarcely, however, had it given
a dubious rap, when the doctor’s head, in a red nightcap,
popped out of one window, and the housekeeper’s, in a
white nightcap, out of another. He was now greeted with
a tremendous volley of hard names and hard language,
mingled with invaluable pieces of advice, such as are sel-
dom ventured to be given excepting to a friend in dis-
tress, or a culprit at the bar. In a few moments, not a
window in the street but had its particular nightcap, lis-
tening to the shrill treble of Frau Ilsy, and the guttural
croaking of Dr. Knipperhausen; and the word went from
window to window, “ Ah! here’s Dolph Heyliger come
back, and at his old pranks again.” In short, poor Dolph
found he was likely to get nothing from the doctor but
good advice; so he was fain to beat a retreat, and take up
his quarters for the night under the lowly roof of honest
Peter de Groodt.
The next morning, bright and early, Dolph was out at
the haunted house. Everything looked just as he had
left it. The fields were grass-grown and matted, and ap-
peared as if nobody had traversed them since his depar-
ture. With palpitating heart he hastened to the well.
He looked down into it, and saw that it was of great
depth, with water at the bottom. He had provided him-


The Haunted House 171
self with a strong line, such as the fishermen use on the
banks of Newfoundland. At the end was a heavy plum-
met and a large fish-hook. With this he began to sound
the bottom of the well, and to angle about in the water.
The water was of some depth; there was also much rub-
bish, stones from the top having fallen in. Several times
his hook got entangled, and he came near breaking his
line. Now and then, too, he hauled up mere trash, such
as the skull of a horse, an iron hoop, and a shattered iron-
bound bucket. He had now been several hours employed
without finding anything to repay his trouble, or to en—
courage him to proceed. He began to think himself a
great fool, to be thus decoyed into a wild-goose chase by
mere dreams, and was on the point of throwing line and
all into the well, and giving up all further angling.
“ One more cast of the line,” said he, “ and that shall
be the last.” As he sounded, he felt the plummet slip,
as it were, through the interstices of loose stones; and
as he drew back the line, he felt that the hook had taken
hold of something heavy. He had to manage his line
with great caution, lest it should be broken by the strain
upon it. By degrees the rubbish which lay upon the
article he had hooked gave way; he drew it to the sur-
face of the water, and what was his rapture at seeing
something like silver glittering at the end of his line!
Almost breathless with anxiety, he drew it up to the
mouth of the well, surprised at its great weight, and fear-
ing every instant that his hook would slip from its hold,
and his prize tumble again to the bottom. At length he
landed it safe beside the well. It was a great silver
porringer, of an ancient form, richly embossed, and with


172 Mystery Tales
armorial bearings engraved on its side, similar to those
over his mother’s mantelpiece. The lid was fastened down
by several twists of wire; Dolph loosened them with a
trembling hand, and, on lifting the lid, behold! the vessel
was filled with broad golden pieces, of a coinage which
he had never seen before! It was evident he had lit on
the place where Killian Vander Spiegel had concealed his
treasure.
Fearful of being seen by some straggler, he cautiously
retired, and buried his pot of money in a secret place.
He now spread terrible stories about the haunted house,
and deterred every one from approaching it, while he
made frequent visits to it in stormy days, when no one
was stirring in the neighboring fields; though, to tell the
truth, he did not care to venture there in the dark. For
once in his life he was diligent and industrious, and fol-
lowed up his new trade of angling with such perseverance
and success, that in a little while he had hooked up wealth
enough to make him, in those moderate days, a rich burgher
for life.
It would be tedious to detail minutely the rest of this
story. To tell how he gradually managed to bring his
property into use without exciting surprise and inquiry,—
how he satisfied all scruples with regard to retaining the
property, and at the same time gratified his own feel-
ings by marrying the pretty Marie Vander Heyden,—
and how he and Heer Antony had many a merry and rov-
ing expedition together.
I must not omit to say, however, that Dolph took his
mother home to live with him, and cherished her in her
old days. The good dame, too, had the satisfaction of


The Haunted House 173
no longer hearing her son made the theme of censure; on
the contrary, he grew daily in public esteem; everybody
spoke well of him and his wines; and the lordliest burgo-
master was never known to decline his invitation to din-
ner. Dolph often related, at his own table, the wicked
pranks which had once been the abhorrence of the town;
but they were now considered excellent jokes, and the
gravest dignitary was fain to hold his sides when listen-
ing to them. No one was more struck with Dolph’s in-
creasing merit than his old master the doctor; and so for-
giving was Dolph, that he absolutely employed the doctor
as his family physician, only taking care that his pre-
scriptions should be always thrown out of the window.
His mother had often her junto of old cronies to take a
snug cup of tea with her in her comfortable little parlor;
and Peter de Groodt, as he sat by the fireside, with one
of her grandchildren on his knee, would many a time
congratulate her upon her son turning out so great a
man; upon which the good old soul would wag her head
with exultation, and exclaim, “Ah, neighbor, neighbor!
did I not say that Dolph would one day or other hold up
his head with the best of them? ”


THE GHOST-SHIP
THOMAS Moonr: ,
SEE you, beneath yon cloud so dark,
Fast gliding along a gloomy bark?
Her sails are full,— though the wind is still,
And there blows not a breath her sails to fill!
Say, what doth that vessel of darkness bear?
The silent calm of the grave is there,
Save now and again a death-knell rung,
And the flap of the sails with night-fog hung.
There lieth a wreck on the dismal shore
Of cold and pitiless Labrador;
Where, under the moon, upon mounts of frost,
Full many a mariner’s bones are tost.
Yon shadowy bark hath been to that wreck,
And the dim blue fire, that lights her deck,
Doth play on as pale and livid a crew
As ever yet drank the churchyard dew.
To Deadman’s Isle, in the eye of the blast,
To Deadman’s Isle, she speeds her fast;
By skeleton shapes her sails are furl’d,
And the hand that steers is not of this world!
174


The Ghost-Ship 175
Oh! hurry thee on — oh! hurry thee on,
Thou terrible bark, ere the night be gone,
Nor let morning look on so foul a sight
As would blanch forever her rosy light!


THE BALLAD OF CARMILHAN
HENRY Wanswon'rn LONGFELLOW
I
AT Stralsund, by the Baltic Sea,
Within the sandy bar,
At sunset of a summer’s day,
Ready for sea, at anchor lay
The good ship Valdemar.
The sunbeams danced upon the waves,
And played along her side;
And through the cabin windows streamed
In ripples of golden light, that seemed
The ripple of the tide.
There sat the captain with his friends,
Old skippers brown and hale,
Who smoked and grumbled o’er their grog,
And talked of iceberg and of fog,
Of calm and storm and gale.
And one was spinning a sailor’s yarn
About Klaboterman,
The Kobold of the sea; a spright
Invisible to mortal sight,
Who o’er the rigging ran.
176


The Ballad of Uarmilhan 177. '
Sometimes he hammered in the hold,
Sometimes upon the mast,
Sometimes abeam, sometimes abaft,
Or at the bows he sang and laughed,
And made all tight and fast.
He helped the sailors at their work,
And toiled with jovial din;
He helped them hoist and reef the sails,
He helped them stow the casks and bales,
And heave the anchor in.
But woe unto the lazy louts,
The idlers of the crew;
Them to torment was his delight,
And worry them by day and night, ,
And pinch them black and blue. '
And woe to him whose mortal eyes
Klaboterman behold.
It is a certain sign of death! —
The cabin-boy here held his breath,
He felt his blood run cold.
II
The jolly skipper pause-d awhile,
And then again began;
“ There is a Spectre Ship,” quoth he,
“ A ship of the Dead that sails the sea,
And is called the Carmilhan.


178 Mystery Tales
“A ghostly ship, with a ghostly crew,
In tempests she appears;
And before the gale, or against the gale,
She sails without a rag of sail,
Without a helmsman steers.
“ She haunts the Atlantic north and south,
But mostly the mid-sea,
Where three great rocks rise bleak and bare
Like furnace chimneys in the air,
And are called the Chimneys Three.
“And ill betide the luckless ship
That meets the Carmilhan;
Over her decks the seas will leap,
She must go down into the deep,
And perish mouse and man.”
The captain of the Valdemar
Laughed loud with merry heart.
“ I should like to see this ship,” said he;
"‘ I should like to find these Chimneys Three
That are marked down in the chart.
3‘ I have sailed right over the spot,” he said,
“ With a good stiff breeze behind,
.When the sea was blue, and the sky was clear,—
You can follow my course by these pinholes here,—
And never a rock could find.”
{And then he swore a dreadful oath,
He swore by the Kingdoms Three,


The Ballad of Carmilhan 179
That, should he meet the Carmilhan,
He would run her down, although he ran
Right into Eternity!
All this, while passing to and fro,
The cabin-boy had heard;
He lingered at the door to hear,
And drank in all with greedy ear,
And pondered every word.
He was a simple country lad,
But of a roving mind.
“ Oh, it must be like heaven,” thought he,
"‘ Those far-off foreign lands to see,
And fortune seek and find! ”
'But in the fo’castle, when he heard
The mariners blaspheme,
He thought of home, he thought of God,
And his mother under the churchyard sod,
And wished it were a dream.
One friend on board that ship had he;
’Twas the Klaboterman,
Who saw the Bible in his chest,
And made a sign upon his breast,
All evil things to ban.
III
The cabin windows have grown blank
As eyeballs of the dead;


180 Mystery Tales
No more the glancing sunbeams burn
On the gilt letters of the stern,
But on the figure-head ;
On Valdemar Victorious,
Who looketh with disdain
To see his image in the tide
Dismembered float from side to side,
And reunite again.
“ It is the wind,” those skippers said,
“ That swings the vessel so;
It is the wind; it freshens fast,
’Tis time to say farewell at last,
’Tis time for us to go.”
They shook the captain by the hand,
“ Good luck! good luck!” they cried;
Each face was like the setting sun,
As, broad and red, they one by one
Went o’er the vessel’s side.
The sun went down, the full moon rose,
Serene o’er field and flood;
And all the winding creeks and bays
And broad sea-meadows seemed ablaze, '
The sky was red as blood.
The southwest wind blew fresh and fair,
As fair as wind could be;
Bound for Odessa, o’er the bar,


The Ballad of Carmt'lhan 181'
With all sail set, the Valdemar
Went proudly out to sea.
The lovely moon climbs up the sky
As one who walks in dreams;
A tower of marble in her light,
A wall of black, a wall of white,
The stately vessel seems.
Low down upon the sandy coast
The lights begin to burn;
And now, uplifted high in air,
They kindle with a fiercer glare,
And now drop far astern.
The dawn appears, the land is gone,
The sea is all around;
Then on each hand 10w hills of sand
Emerge and form another land;
She steereth through the Sound.
Through Kattegat and Skager-rack
She flitteth like a ghost;
By day and night, by night and day,
She bounds, she flies upon her way
Along the English coast.
Cape Finisterre is drawing near,
Cape Finisterre is past;
Into the open ocean stream
She floats, the vision of a dream
Too beautiful to last.


182 Mystery Tales
Suns rise and set, and rise, and yet
There is no land in sight;
The liquid planets overhead
Burn brighter now the moon is dead,
And longer stays the night.
IV.
And now along the horizon’s edge
Mountains of cloud uprose,
Black as with forests underneath,
Above, their sharp and jagged teeth
Were white as drifted snows.
Unseen behind them sank the sun,
But flushed each snowy peak
A little while with rosy light,
That faded slowly from the sight
As blushes from the cheek.
Black grew the sky,—— all black, all black;
The clouds were everywhere;
There was a feeling of suspense
In nature, a mysterious sense
Of terror in the air.
And all on board the Valdemar
Was still as still could be;
Save when the dismal ship-bell tolled,
As ever and anon she rolled,
And lurched into the sea.


The Ballad of Carmilhan 183
The captain up and down the deck
Went striding to and fro;
Now watched the compass at the wheel,
Now lifted up his hand to feel
Which way the wind might blow.
And now he looked up at the sails,
And now upon the deep;
In every fibre of his frame
He felt the storm before it came,
He had no thought of sleep.
Eight bells! and suddenly abaft,
With a great rush of rain,
Making the ocean white with spume,
In darkness like the day of doom,
On came the hurricane.
The lightning flashed from cloud to cloud,
And rent the sky in two;
A jagged flame, a single jet
Of white fire, like a bayonet,
That pierced the eyeballs through.
Then all around was dark again,
And blacker than before;
But in that single flash of light
He had beheld a fearful sight,
And thought of the oath he swore.
For right ahead lay the Ship of the Dead,
The ghostly Carmilhan!


Mystery Tales
Her masts were stripped, her yards were bare,
And on her bowsprit, poised in air,
Sat the Klaboterman.
Her crew of ghosts was all on deck
Or clambering up the shrouds;
The boatswain’s whistle, the captain’s hail
,Were like the piping of the gale,
And thunder in the clouds.
And close behind the Oarmilhan
There rose up from the sea,
As from a foundered ship of stone,
Three bare and splintered masts alone:
They were the Chimneys Three.
And onward dashed the Valdemar
And leaped into the dark;
A denser mist, a colder blast,
A little shudder, and she had passed
Right through the Phantom Bark.
She cleft in twain the shadowy hulk,
But cleft it unaware;
As when, careering to her nest,
The sea-gull severs with her breast
The unresisting air.
Again the lightning flashed; again
They saw the Carmilhan,
Whole as before in hull and spar;


The Ballad of Carmtlhan 185
But now on board of the Valdemar
Stood the Klaboterman.
And they all knew their doom was sealed;
They knew that death was near;
Some prayed who never prayed before,
And some they wept, and some they swore,
And some were mute with fear.
Then suddenly there came a shock,
And louder than wind or sea
A cry burst from the crew on deck,
As she dashed and crashed, a hopeless wreck,
Upon the Chimneys Three.
The storm and night were passed, the light
To streak the east began;
The cabin-boy, picked up at sea;
Survived the wreck, and only he,
To tell of the Carmilhan.


LEGEND OF THE MOOR’S LEGACY
WASHINGTON IRVING
Jus'r within the fortress of the Alhambra, in front of
the royal palace, is a broad open esplanade, called the
Place or Square of the Cisterns, so called from being
undermined by reservoirs of water, hidden from sight,
and which have existed from the time of the Moors. At
one corner of this esplanade is a Moorish well, cut through
the living rock to a great depth, the water of which is cold
as ice and clear as crystal. The wells made by the Moors
are always in repute, for it is well known what pains they
took to penetrate to the purest and sweetest springs and
fountains. The one of which we now speak is famous
throughout Granada, insomuch that water-carriers, some
bearing great water-jars on their shoulders, others driving
asses before them laden with earthen vessels, are ascend—
ing and descending the steep woody avenues of the Al-
hambra, from early dawn until a late hour of the night.
Among the water-carriers who once resorted to this
well, there was a sturdy, strong-backed, handy-legged lit-
tle fellow, named Pedro Gil, but called Peregil for short-
ness. Being a water-carrier he was a Gallego, or native
of Gallicia, of course. Nature seems to have formed races
of men, as she has of animals, for different kinds of
drudgery. In France the shoe-blacks are all Savoyards,
186


Legend of the Moor’s Legacy 187
the porters of hotels all Swiss, and in the days of hoops
and hair-powder in England, no man could give the regu-
lar swing to a sedan—chair but a bog-trotting Irishman.
So in Spain, the carriers of water and bearers of burdens
are all sturdy little natives of Gallicia. N 0 man says,
“ Get me a porter,” but, “ call a Gallego.”
To return from this digression, Peregil the Gallego had
begun business with merely a great earthen jar which he
carried upon his shoulder; by degrees he rose in the world,
and was enabled to purchase an assistant of a correspondent
class of animals, being a stout, shaggy-haired donkey.
On each side of this his long-cared aide-de-camp, in a
kind of pannier, were slung his water-jars, covered with
fig leaves to protect them from the sun. There was not
a more industrious water-carrier in all Granada, nor one
more merry withal. The streets rang with his cheerful
voice as he trudged after his donkey, singing forth the
usual summer note that resounds through the Spanish
towns: “ Who wants water—water colder than snow?
Who wants water from the well of the Alhambra, cold as
ice and clear as crystal?” When he served a customer
with a sparkling glass, it was always with a pleasant word
that caused a smile; and if, perchance, it was a comely
dame or dimpling damsel, it was always with a sly leer
and a compliment to her beauty that was irresistible.
Thus Peregil the G'allego was noted throughout all Gra-
nada for being one of the civilest, pleasantest and hap-
piest of mortals. Yet it is not he who sings loudest and
jokes most that has the lightest heart. . Under all this
air of merriment, honest Peregil had his cares and
troubles. He had a large family of ragged children to


188 Mystery Tales
support, who were hungry and clamorous as a nest of
young swallows, and beset him with their outcries for
food whenever he came home of an evening. He had a
helpmate, too, who was anything but a help to him. She
had been a village beauty before marriage, noted for her
skill at dancing the bolero and rattling the castanets; and
she still retained her early propensities, spending the hard
earnings of honest Peregil in frippery, and laying the
very donkey under requisition for junketing parties into
the country on Sundays and saints’ days, and those in-
numerable holidays, which are rather more numerous in
Spain than the days of the week. With all this she was
a little of a slattern, something more of a lie-abed, and,
above all, a gossip of the first water; neglecting house,
household, and everything else, to loiter slipshod in the
houses of her gossip neighbors.
It was a late hour one summer night, and most of the
water-carriers had desisted from their toils. The day had
been uncommonly sultry; the night was one of those de—
licious moonlights which tempt the inhabitants of south-
ern climes to indemnify themselves for the heat and in-
action of the day, by lingering in the open air, and enjoy-
ing its tempered sweetness until after midnight. Cus-
tomers for water were therefore still abroad. Peregil,
like a considerate, painstaking father, thought of his hun-
gry children. “ One more journey to the well,” said he
to himself, “to earn a Sunday’s puchero for the little
ones.” So saying, he trudged manfully up the steep ave
nue of the Alhambra, singing as he went, and now and
then bestowing a hearty thwack with a cudgel on the flanks
of his donkey, either by way of cadence to the song, or


Legend of the Moor’s Legacy 189
refreshment to the animal; for dry blows serve in lieu of
provender in Spain for all beasts of burden.
When arrived at the well, he found it deserted by
every one except a solitary stranger in Moorish garb,
seated on a stone bench in the moonlight. Peregil paused
at first and regarded him with surprise, not unmixed with
awe, but the Moor feebly beckoned him to approach.
“ I am faint and ill,” said he; “ aid me to return to the
city, and I will pay thee double what thou couldst gain
by thy jars of water.”
The honest heart of the little water-carrier was touched
with compassion at the appeal of the stranger. “God
forbid,” said he, “ that I should ask fee or reward for do-
ing a common act of humanity.” He accordingly helped
the Moor on his donkey, and set off slowly for Granada,
the poor Moslem being so weak that it was necessary to
hold him on the animal to keep him from falling to the
earth.
' When they entered the city, the watemanier demanded
whither he should conduct him. “ Alas! ” said the Moor,
faintly, “ I have neither home nor habitation; I am a
stranger in the land. Suffer me to lay my head this night
beneath thy roof, and thou shalt be amply repaid.”
Honest Peregil thus saw himself unexpectedly saddled
with an infidel guest, but he was too humane to refuse a
night’s shelter to a fellow-being in so forlorn a plight; so
he conducted the Moor to his dwelling. The children,
who had sallied forth open-mouthed as usual on hearing
the tramp of the donkey, ran back with aflright when they
beheld the turbaned stranger, and hid themselves behind
their‘mother. The latter stepped forth intrepidly, like


Legend of the Moor’s Legacy 191
The water-carrier’s wife was now as one distracted.
“This comes,” said she, “of your foolish good-nature,
always running into scrapes to oblige others. What will
become of us when this corpse is found in our house?
We shall be sent to prison as murderers; and if we escape
with our lives, shall be ruined by notaries and alguazils.”
Poor Peregil was in equal tribulation, and almost re-
pented himself of having done a good deed. At length
a thought struck him. “ It is not yet day,” said he; “ I
can convey the dead body out of the city, and bury it in
the sands on the banks of the Xenil. No one saw the
Moor enter our dwelling, and no one will know anything
of his death.”
So said, so done. The wife aided him; they rolled the
body of the unfortunate Moslem in the mat on which he
had expired, laid it across the ass, and Peregil set out
with it for the banks of the river.
As ill luck would have it, there lived opposite to the
water-carrier a barber named Pedrillo Pedrugo, one of
the most prying, tattling, and mischief-making of his gos-
sip tribe. He was a weasel-faced, spider-legged varlet,
supple and insinuating; the famous barber of Seville could
not surpass him for his universal knowledge of the affairs
of others, and he had no more power of retention than a
sieve. It was said that he slept but with one eye at a
time, and kept one ear uncovered, so that even in his sleep
he might see and hear all that was going on. Certain it
is, he was a sort of scandalous chronicle for the quidnuncs
of Granada, and had more customers than all the rest of
his fraternity.
The meddlesome barber heard Peregil arrive at an un-


Legend of the Moor’s Legacy 193
the Gallego has robbed and murdered a Moorish Mussul-
man, and buried him, this blessed night.”
“But how do you know all this?” demanded the al-
calde.
“Be patient, Senor, and you shall hear all about it,”
replied Pedrillo, taking him by the nose and sliding a
razor over his cheek. He then recounted all that he had
seen, going through both operations at the same time,
shaving his beard, washing his chin, and wiping him dry
with a dirty napkin, while he was robbing, murdering,
and burying the Moslem.
Now it so happened that this alcalde was one of the
most overbearing, and at the same time most griping and
corrupt curmudgeons in all Granada. It could not be
denied, however, that he set a high value upon justice,
for he sold it at its weight in gold. He presumed the
case in point to be one of murder and robbery; doubtless
there must be a rich spoil; how was it to be secured into
the legitimate hands of the law? for as to merely en-
trapping the delinquent—that would be feeding the gal-
lows; but entrapping the booty — that would be enriching
the judge, and such, according to his creed, was the great
end of justice. So thinking, be summoned to his presence
his truest alguazil— a gaunt, hungry-looking varlet, clad,
according to the custom of his order, in the ancient Span—
ish garb, a broad black beaver turned up at its sides; a
quaint ruff ; a small black cloak dangling from his shoul-
ders; rusty black underclothes that set off his spare wiry
frame, while in his hand he bore a slender white wand,
the dreaded insignia of his office. Such was the legal


194 Mystery Tales
bloodhound of the ancient Spanish breed, that he put
upon the traces of the unlucky water-carrier, and such
was his speed and certainty, that he was upon the haunches
of poor Peregil before he had returned to his dwelling,
and brought both him and his donkey before the dis-
penser of justice.
The alcalde bent upon him one of the most terrific
frowns. “Hark ye, culprit!” roared he, in a voice that
made the knees of the little Gallego smite together,—
“ hark ye, culprit! there is no need of denying thy guilt,
everything is known to me. A gallows is the proper re-
ward for the crime thou hast committed, but I am merci-
ful, and readily listen to reason. The man that has been
murdered in thy house was a Moor and infidel, the enemy
of our faith. It was doubtless in a fit of religious zeal
that thou hast slain him. I will be indulgent, therefore;
render up the property of which thou hast robbed him,
and we will hush the matter up.”
The poor water-carrier called upon all the saints to
witness his innocence; alas! not one of them appeared;
and if they had, the alcalde would have disbelieved the
whole calendar. The water-carrier related the whole
story of the dying Moor with the straightforward simplic-
ity of truth, but it was all in vain. “ Wilt thou persist
in saying,” demanded the judge, “ that this Moslem had
neither gold nor jewels, which were the object of thy
cupidity? ”
“As I hope to be saved, your worship,” replied the
water-carrier, “ he had nothing but a small box of sandal-
wood, which he bequeathed to me in reward for my
services.”


Legend of the Moor’s Legacy 195
“A box of sandal-wood! a box of sandal-wood! ” ex-
claimed the alcalde, his eyes sparkling at the idea of pre-
cious jewels. “And where is this box? Where have you
concealed it?”
“ An’ it please your grace,” replied the water-carrier,
“it is in one of the panniers of my mule, and heartin at
the service of your worship.”
He had hardly spoken the words, when the keen alguazil
darted off, and reappeared in an instant with the myste-
rious box of sandal-wood. The alcalde opened it with an
eager and trembling hand; all pressed forward to gaze
upon the treasure it was expected to contain; when, to
their disappointment, nothing appeared within, but a
parchment scroll, covered with Arabic characters, and an
end of a waxen taper.
When there is nothing to be gained by the conviction
of a prisoner, justice, even in Spain, is apt to be impar-
tial. The alcalde, having recovered from his disappoint-
ment, and found that there was really no booty in the
case, now listened dispassionately to the explanation of
the water-carrier, which was corroborated by the testi~
mony of his wife. Being convinced, therefore, of his in-
nocence, he discharged him from arrest; nay more, he
permitted him to carry off the Moor’s legacy, the box of
sandal-wood and its contents, as the well-merited reward
of his humanity; but he retained his donkey in payment
of costs and charges.
Behold the unfortunate little Gallego reduced once more
to the necessity of being his own water-carrier, and trudg-
ing up to the well of the Alhambra with a great earthen
jar upon his shoulder.


196 Mystery Tales
As he toiled up the hill in the heat of a summer noon,
his usual good-humor forsook him. “ Dog of an alcalde! ”
would he cry, “ to rob a poor man of the means of his
subsistence, of the best friend he had in the world!”
And then at the remembrance of the beloved companion
of his labors, all the kindness of his nature would break
forth. “Ah, donkey of my heart!” would he exclaim,
resting his burden on a stone, and wiping the sweat from
his brow,—“ Ah, donkey of my heart! I warrant me thou
thinkest of thy old master! I warrant me thou missest
the water-jars -— poor beast.”
To add to his afllictions, his wife received him, on his
return home, with whimperings and repinings; she had
clearly the vantage-ground of him, having warned him
not to commit the egregious act of hospitality which had
brought on him all these misfortunes; and, like a know-
ing woman, she took every occasion to throw her superior
sagacity in his teeth. If her children lacked food, or
needed a new garment, she could answer with a sneer,
“ G0 to your father—he is heir to king Chico of the
Alhambra; ask him to help you out of the Moor’s strong
box.”
Was ever poor mortal so soundly punished for having
done a good action? The unlucky Peregil was grieved
in flesh and spirit, but still he bore meekly with the rail-
ings of his spouse. At length, one evening, when, after
a hot day’s toil, she taunted him in the usual manner, he
lost all patience. He did not venture to retort upon her,
but his eye rested upon the box of sandal-wood, which lay
on a shelf with lid half open, as if laughing in mockery
at his vexation. Seizing it up, he dashed it with indig-


Legend of the Moor’s Legacy 197
nation to the floor. “ Unlucky was the day that I ever
set eyes on thee,” he cried, “ or sheltered thy master be-
neath my roof! ”
As the box struck the floor, the lid flew wide open, and
the parchment scroll rolled forth.
Peregil sat regarding the scroll for some time in moody
silence. At length rallying his ideas, “Who knows,”
thought he, “ but this writing may be of some importance,
as the Moor seems to have guarded it with some care?”
Picking it up therefore, he put it in his bosom, and the
next morning as he was crying water through the streets,
he stopped at the shop of a Moor, a native of Tangiers,
who sold trinkets and perfumery in the Zacatin, and asked
him to explain the contents.
The Moor read the scroll attentively, then stroked his
beard and smiled. “This manuscript,” said he, “ is a
form of incantation for the recovery of hidden treasure
that is under the power of enchantment. It is said to
have such virtue that the strongest bolts and bars, nay,
the adamantine rock itself, will yield before it! ”
“Bah!” cried the little Gallego, “what is all that to
me? I am no enchanter, and know nothing of buried
treasure.” So saying, he shouldered his water-jar, left
the scroll in the hands of the Moor, and trudged forward
on his daily rounds.
That evening, however, as he rested himself about twi-
light at the well of the Alhambra, he found a number of
gossips assembled at the place, and their conversation, as
is not unusual in that shadowy hour, turned upon old
tales and traditions of a supernatural nature. Being all
poor as rats, they dwelt with peculiar fondness upon the


198 Mystery Tales
popular theme of enchanted riches left by the Moors in
various parts of the Alhambra. Above all, they concurred
in the belief that there were great treasures buried deep
in the earth under the tower of the seven floors.
These stories made an unusual impression on the mind
of the honest Peregil, and they sank deeper and deeper
into his thoughts as he returned alone down the darkling
avenues. “ If, after all, there should be treasure hid be—
neath that tower; and if the scroll I left with the Moor
should enable me to get at it! ” In the sudden ecstasy
of the thought he had well-nigh let fall his water-jar.
That night he tumbled and tossed, and could scarcely
get a wink of sleep for the thoughts that were bewildering
his brain. Bright and early he repaired to the shop of
the Moor, and told him all that was passing in his mind.
“ You can read Arabic,” said he; “ suppose we go together
to the tower, and try the effect of the charm; if it fails,
we are no worse off than before; but if it succeeds, we will
share equally all the treasure we may discover.”
“ Hold,” replied the Moslem; “ this writing is not suf-
ficient of itself; it must be read at midnight, by the light
of a taper singularly compounded and prepared, the in-
gredients of which are not within my reach. Without
such a taper the scroll is of no avail.”
“ Say no more! ” cried the little Gallego; “ I have such
a taper at hand, and will bring it here in a moment.”
So saying, he hastened home, and soon returned with the
end of a yellow wax taper that he had found in the box of
sandal-wood.
The Moor felt it and smelt to it. “ Here are rare and
costly perfumes,” said be, “combined with this yellow


Legend of the Moor’s Legacy 199
wax. This is the kind of taper specified in the scroll.
While this burns, the strongest walls and most secret cav-
erns will remain open. Woe to him, however, who lingers
within until it be extinguished. He will remain en-
chanted with the treasure.”
It was now agreed between them to try the charm that
very night. At a late hour, therefore, when nothing was
stirring but bats and owls, they ascended the woody hill
of the Alhambra, and approached that awful tower,
shrouded by trees and rendered formidable by so many
traditionary tales. By the light of a lantern they groped
their way through bushes and over fallen stones, to the
door of a vault beneath the tower. With fear and trem-
bling they descended a flight of steps out into the rock.
It led to an empty chamber, damp and drear, from which
another flight of steps led to a deeper vault. In this way
they descended four several flights, leading into as many
vaults, one below the other, but the floor of the fourth was
solid; and though, according to tradition, there remained
three vaults still below, it was said to be impossible to
penetrate further, the residue being shut up by strong
enchantment. The air of this vault was damp and chilly,
and had an earthy smell, and the light scarce cast forth
any rays. They paused here for a time, in breathless
suspense, until they faintly heard the clock of the watch-
tower strike midnight; upon this they lit the waxen taper,
which diffused an odor of myrrh and frankincense and
storax.
The Moor began to read in a hurried voice. He had
scarce finished when there was a noise as of subterraneous
thunder. The earth shook, and the floor, yawning open,


200 Mystery Tales
disclosed a flight of steps. Trembling with awe, they
descended, and by the light of the lantern found them-
selves in another vault covered with Arabic inscriptions.
In the centre stood a great chest, secured with seven
bands of steel, at each end of which sat an enchanted
Moor in armor, but motionless as a statue, being con-
trolled by the power of the incantation. Before the chest
were several jars filled with gold and silver and precious
stones. In the largest of these they thrust their arms up
to the elbow, and at every dip hauled forth handfuls of
broad yellow pieces of Moorish gold, or bracelets and
ornaments of the same precious metal, while occasionally
a necklace of Oriental pearl would stick to their fingers.
Still they trembled and breathed short while cramming
their pockets with the spoils; and cast many a fearful
glance at the two enchanted Moors, who sat grim and mo-
tionless, glaring upon them with unwinking eyes. At
length, struck with a sudden panic at some fancied noise,
they both rushed up the staircase, tumbled over one an-
other into the upper apartment, overturned and extin-
guished the waxen taper, and the pavement again closed
with a thundering sound.
Filled with dismay, they did not pause until they had
groped their way out of the tower, and beheld the stars
shining through the trees. Then seating themselves upon
the grass, they divided the spoil, determining to content
themselves for the present with this mere skimming of the
jars, but to return on some future night and drain them
to the bottom. To make sure of each other’s good faith,
also, they divided the talismans between them, one retain—
. ing the scroll and the other the taper; this done, they set


Legend of the Moor’s Legacy 201
off with light hearts and well-lined pockets for Granada.
As they wended their way down the hill, the shrewd
Moor whispered a word of counsel in the ear of the simple
little water-carrier.
“ Friend Peregil,” said he, “ all this affair must be kept
a profound secret until we have secured the treasure, and
conveyed it out of harm’s way. If a whisper of it gets
to the ear of the alcalde, we are undone! ”
“ Certainly,” replied the Gallego, “ nothing can be more
true.”
“ FriendPeregil,” said the Moor, “you are a discreet
man, and I make no doubt can keep a secret; but you have
a wife.”
“ She shall not know a word of it,” replied the little
water-carrier, sturdily. .
“ Enough,” said the Moor, “ I depend upon thy discre
tion and thy promise.”
Never was promise more positive and sincere; but,
alas! what man can keep a secret from his wife? Cer—
tainly not such a one as Peregil the water-carrier, who
was one of the most loving and tractable of husbands.
On his return home, he found his wife moping in a cor-
ner. “Mighty well,” cried she as he entered, “you’ve
come at last, after rambling about until this hour of the
night. I wonder you have not brought home another
Moor as a house-mate.” Then bursting into tears, she
began to wring her hands and smite her breast. “ Un-
happy woman that I am!” exclaimed she, “ what will
become of me? My house stripped and plundered by
lawyers and alguazils; my husband a do-no-good, that no
longer brings home bread to his family, but goes rambling


202 Mystery Tales
about day and night, with infidel Moors! O my chil-
dren! my children! what will become of us? We shall all
have to beg in the streets! ”
Honest Peregil was so moved by the distress of his
spouse, that he could not help whimpering also. His
heart was as full as his pocket, and not to be restrained.
Thrusting his hand into the latter he hauled forth three
or four broad gold pieces, and slipped them into her
bosom. The poor woman stared with astonishment, and
could not understand the meaning of this golden shower.
Before she could recover her surprise, the little Gallego
drew forth a chain of gold and dangled it before her,
capering with exultation, his mouth distended from ear
to ear.
“ Holy Virgin protect us!” exclaimed the wife.
“What hast thou been doing, Peregil? surely thou hast
not been committing murder and robbery! ”
The idea scarce entered the brain of the poor woman,
than it became a certainty with her. She saw a prison
and a gallows in the distance, and a little handy-legged
Gallego hanging pendent from it; and, overcome by the
horrors conjured up by imagination, fell into violent hys-
terics.
What could the poor man do? He had no other means
of pacifying his wife, and dispelling the phantoms of her
fancy, than by relating the whole story of his good for-
tune. This, however, he did not do until he had exacted
from her the most solemn promise to keep it a profound
secret from every living being. I
To describe her joy would be impossible. She flung
her arms round the neck of her husband, and almost


Legend of the Moor’s Legacy 203
strangled him with her caresses. “ Now, wife,” exclaimed
the little man with honest exultation, “ what say you now
to the Moor’s legacy? Henceforth never abuse me for
helping a fellow-creature in distress.”
The honest Gallego retired to his sheepskin mat, and
slept as soundly as if on a bed of down. Not so his wife;
she emptied the whole contents of his pockets upon the
mat, and sat counting gold pieces of Arabic coin, trying
on necklaces and earrings, and fancying the figure she
should one day make when permitted to enjoy her riches.
On the following morning the honest Gallego took a
broad golden coin, and repaired with it to a jeweller’s
shop in the Zacatin to offer itfor sale, pretending to have
found it among the ruins of the Alhambra. The jeweller
saw that it had an Arabic inscription, and was of the
purest gold; he offered, however, but a third of its value,
with which the water-carrier was perfectly content. Per-
egil now bought new clothes for his little flock, and all
kinds of toys, together with ample provisions for a hearty
meal, and returning to his dwelling, set all his children
dancing around him, while he capered in the midst, the
happiest of fathers.
The wife of the water-carrier kept her promise of se-
crecy with surprising strictness. For a whole day and a
half she went about with a look of mystery and a. heart
swelling almost to bursting, yet she held her peace, though
surrounded by her gossips. It is true, she could not help
giving herself a few airs, apologized for her ragged dress,
and talked of ordering a new basquina all trimmed with
gold lace and bugles, and a new lace mantilla. She threw
out hints of her husband’s intention of leaving ofi his


204 Mystery Tales
trade of water-carrying, as it did not altogether agree with
his health. In fact she thought they should all retire to
the country for the summer, that the children might have
the benefit of the mountain air, for there was no living
in the city in this sultry season.
The neighbors stared at each other, and thought the
poor woman had lost her wits; and her airs and graces
and elegant pretensions were the theme of universal scof-
fing and merriment among her friends, the moment her
back was turned.
If she restrained herself abroad, however, she indem-
nified herself at home, and putting a string of rich Orien-
tal pearls round her neck, Moorish bracelets on her arms,
and an aigrette of diamonds on her head, sailed backwards
and forwards in her slattern rags about the room, now and
then stopping to admire herself in a broken mirror. Nay,
in the impulse of her simple vanity, she could not resist,
on one occasion, showing herself at the window to enjoy
the effect of her finery on the passers-by.
As the fates would have it, Pedrillo Pedrugo, the med-
dlesome barber, was at this moment sitting idly in his shop
on the opposite side of the street, when his ever-watchful
eye caught the sparkle of a diamond. In an instant he
was at the loophole reconnoitering the slattern spouse of
the water-carrier, decorated with the splendor of an east-
ern bride. No sooner had he taken an accurate inventory
of her ornaments, than he posted off with all speed to the
alcalde. In a little while the hungry alguazil was again
on the scent, and before the day was over the unfortunate
Peregil was once more dragged into the presence of the
judge.


Legend of the Moor’s Legacy 205
“How is this, villain!” cried the alcalde, in a furious
voice. “You told me that the infidel who died in your
house left nothing behind but an empty coffer, and now I
hear of your wife flaunting in her rags decked out with
pearls and diamonds. Wretch that thou art! prepare
to render up the spoils of thy miserable victim, and to
swing on the gallows that is already tired of waiting for
thee.”
The terrified water-carrier fell on his knees, and made
a full relation of the marvelous manner in which he had
gained his wealth. The alcalde, the alguazil, and the in-
quisitive barber listened with greedy ears to this Arabian
tale of enchanted treasure. The alguazil was despatched
to bring the Moor who had assisted in the incantation.
The Moslem entered half frightened out of his wits at
finding himself in the hands of the harpies of the law.
When he beheld the water-carrier standing with sheepish
looks and downcast countenance, he comprehended the
whole matter. “ Miserable animal,” said he, as he passed
near him, “ did I not warn thee against babbling to thy
wife ? ”
The story of the Moor coincided exactly with that of his
colleague; but the alcalde affected to be slow of belief, and
threw out menaces of imprisonment and rigorous investi-
gation.
“ Softly, good Senor Alcalde,” said the Mussulman, who
by this time had recovered his usual shrewdness and self-
possession. “ Let us not mar fortune’s favors in the
scramble for them. Nobody knows anything of this mat-
ter but ourselves; let us keep the secret. There is wealth
enough in the cave to enrich us all. Promise a fair di-


206 Mystery Tales
vision, and all shall be produced; refuse, and the cave
shall remain forever closed.”
The alcalde consulted apart with the alguazt'l. The lat-
ter was an old fox in his profession. “Promise any-
thing,” said he, “ until you get possession of the treasure.
You may then seize upon the whole, and if he and his ac-
complice dare to murmur, threaten them with the fagot
and the stake as infidels and sorcerers.”
The alcalde relished theiadvice. Smoothing his brow
and turning to the Moor, “ This is a strange story,” said
he, “ and may be true, but I must have ocular proof of it.
This very night you must repeat the incantation in my
presence. If there be really such treasure, we will share
it amicably between us, and say nothing further of the
matter; if ye have deceived me, expect no mercy at my
hands. In the meantime you must remain in custody.”
The Moor and the water-carrier cheerfully agreed to
these conditions, satisfied that the event would prove the
truth of their words.
Towards midnight the alcalde sallied forth secretly, at-
tended by the alguazil and the meddlesome barber, all
strongly armed. They conducted the Moor and the water-
carrier as prisoners, and were provided with the stout
donkey of the latter to bear off the expected treasure.
They arrived at the tower without being observed, and
tying the donkey to a fig-tree, descended into the fourth
vault of the tower.
The scroll was produced, the yellow waxen taper lighted,
and the Moor read the form of incantation. The earth,
trembled as before, and the pavement opened with a thun-


Legend of the Moor’s Legacy 207
dering sound, disclosing the narrow flight of steps. The
aloalde, the alguazil and the barber were struck aghast,
and could not summon courage to descend. The Moor and
the water-carrier entered the lower vault, and found the
two Moors seated as before, silent and motionless. They
removed two of the great jars filled with golden coin and
precious stones. The water-carrier bore them up one by
one upon his shoulders, but though a strong-backed little
man, and accustomed to carry burdens, he staggered be-
_ neath their weight, and found, when slung on each side of
his donkey, they were as much as the animal could bear.
“Let us be content for the present,” said the Moor;
“here is as much treasure as we can carry off without
being perceived, and enough to make us all wealthy to
our heart’s desire.”
“ Is there more treasure remaining behind? ” demanded
the alcalde.
“ The greatest prize of all,” said the Moor, “ a huge
cofi'er bound with bands of steel, and filled with pearls
and precious stones.”
“Let us have up the coffer by all means,” cried the
grasping alcalde. -
“ I will descend for no more,” said the Moor, doggedly;
“ enough is enough for a reasonable man—more is su-
perfluous.”
“And I,” said the water-carrier, “ will bring up no
further burden to break the back of my poor donkey.”
Finding commands, threats, and entreaties equally vain,
the alcalde turned to his two adherents. “Aid me,”
said he, “to bring up the coifer, and its contents shall-


208 Mystery Tales
be divided between us.” So saying, he descended the
steps, followed with trembling reluctance by the alguazil
and the barber.
No sooner did the Moor behold them fairly carthed than
he extinguished the yellow taper; the pavement closed
with its usual crash, and the three worthies remained
buried in its womb.
He then hastened up the different flights of steps, nor
stopped until in the open air. The little water-carrier
followed him as fast as his short legs would permit.
“ What hast thou done? ” cried Peregil, as soon as he
could recover breath. “ The alcalde and the other two
are shut up in the vault.”
“ It is the will of Allah! ” said the Moor, devoutly.
“And will you not release them?” demanded the
Gallego.
“ Allah forbid!” replied the Moor, smoothing his
beard. “ It is written in the book of fate that they shall
remain enchanted until some future adventurer arrive to
break the charm. The will of God be done!” So say-
ing, he hurled the end of the waxen taper far among the
gloomy thickets of the glen.
There was now no remedy; so the Moor and the water-
carrier proceeded with the richly-laden donkey toward
the city, nor could honest Peregil refrain from hugging
and kissing his long-cared fellow-laborer, thus restored
to him from the clutches of the law; and, in fact, it is
doubtful which gave the simple-hearted little man most
joy at the moment, the gaining of the treasure, or the re-
covery of the donkey.
The two partners in good luck divided their spoil ami—


Legend of the Moor’s Legacy 209
cably and fairly, except that the Moor, who had a little
taste for trinketry, made out to get into his heap the most
of the pearls and precious stones and other baubles, but
then he always gave the water-carrier in lieu magnificent
jewels of massy gold, of five times the size, with which
the latter was heartily content. They took care not to
linger within reach of accidents, but made off to enjoy
their wealth undisturbed in other countries. The Moor
returned to Africa, to his native city of Tangiers, and
the Gallego, with his wife, his children, and his donkey,
made the best of his way to Portugal. Here, under the
admonition and tuition of his wife, he became a personage
of some consequence, for she made the worthy little man
array his long body and short legs in doublet and hose,
with a feather in his hat and a sword by his side, and
laying aside his familiar appellation of Peregil, assume
the more sonorous title of Don Pedro Gil; his progeny
grew up a thriving and merry-hearted, though short and
handy-legged generation, while Senora Gil, befringed,
belaced, and betasseled from her head to her heels, with
glittering rings on every finger, became a model of slattern
fashion and finery.
As to the alcalde and his adjuncts, they remained shut
up under the great tower of the seven floors, and there they
remain spellbound at the present day.





ALICE BRAND
SIR WALTER Sco'rr
MERRY it is in the good greenwood,
When the mavis and merle are singing,
When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry,
And the hunter’s horn is ringing.
“ 0 Alice Brand, my native land
Is lost for love of you;
And we must hold by wood and wold,
As outlaws wont to do.
“ 0 Alice, ’twas all for thy looks so bright,
And ’twas all for thine eyes so blue,
That on the night of our luckless flight
Thy brother bold I slew.
210


Alice Brand 211
“ Now must I teach to hew the beech
The hand that held the glaive,
For leaves to spread our lowly bed,
And stakes to fence our cave.
“ And for vest of pall, thy fingers small,
That wont on harp to stray,
A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer,
To keep the cold away.”
“ 0 Richard! if my brother died,
’Twas but a fatal chance;
For darkling was the battle tried,
And fortune sped the lance.
“ If pall and vair no more I wear,
Nor thou the crimson sheen,
As warm, we’ll say, is the russet grey,
As gay the forest-green.
“ And, Richard, if our lot be hard,
And lost thy native land,
Still Alice has her own Richard,
And he his Alice Brand.”
’Tis merry, ’tis merry, in good greenwood;
So blithe Lady Alice is singing;
On the beech’s pride, and oak’s brown side,
Lord Richard’s axe is ringing.


212
Mystery Tales
Up spoke the moody Elfin King,
Who woned within the hill,—
Like wind in the porch of a ruined church,
His voice was ghostly shrill.
“ Why sounds you stroke on beech and oak,
Our moonlight circle’s screen?
Or who comes here to chase the deer,
Beloved of our Elfin Queen?
Or who may dare on wold to wear
The fairies’ fatal green?
“ Up, Urgan, up! to you mortal hie,
For thou wert christened man;
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,
For muttered word or ban.
“ Lay on him the curse of the withered heart,
The curse of the sleepless eye;
Till he wish and pray that his life would part,
Nor yet find leave to die.”
’Tis merry, ’tis merry, in good greenwood,
Though the birds have stilled their singing;
The evening blaze doth Alice raise,
And Richard is fagots bringing.
Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf,
Before Lord Richard stands,
And, as he crossed and blessed himself,
“ I fear not sign,” quoth the grisly elf,
“ That is made with bloody hands.”


Alice Brand 213
But out then spoke she, Alice Brand,
That woman void of fear,—
“ And if there’s blood upon his hand,
’Tis but the blood of deer.”
“ Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood!
It cleaves unto his hand,
The stain of thine own kindly blood,
The blood of Ethert Brand.”
Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand,
And made the holy sign,—
“ And if there’s blood on Richard’s hand,
A spotless hand is mine.
“ And I conjure thee, demon elf,
By Him whom demons fear,
To show us whence thou art thyself,
And what thine errand here?”
“ ’Tis merry, ’tis merry, in Fairy-land,
When fairy birds are singing,
When the court doth ride by their monarch’s side,
With bit and bridle ringing:
“ And gaily shines the Fairy-land -—
But all is glistening show,
Like the idle gleam that December’s beam
Can dart on ice and snow.


214
Mystery Tales
“ And fading, like that varied gleam,
Is our inconstant shape,
Who now like knight and lady seem,
And now like dwarf and ape.
“ It was between the night and day,
When the Fairy King has power,
That I sunk down in a sinful fray,
And ’twixt life and death was snatched away
To the joyless Elfin bower.
“ But wist I of a woman bold,
Who thrice my brow durst sign,
I might regain my mortal mould,
As fair a form as thine.”
She crossed him once — she crossed him twice —
That lady was so brave;
The fouler grew his goblin hue,
The darker grew the cave.
She crossed him thrice, that lady bold;
He rose beneath her hand
The fairest knight on Scottish mould,
Her brother, Ethert Brand!
Merry it is in good greenwood,
When the mavis and merle are singing,
But merrier were they in Dunfermline grey,
When all the bells were ringing.


THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE
PART I
IT is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
“ By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?
The bridegroom’s doors are open’d wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May’st hear the merry din.”
He holds him with his skinny hand,
“ There was a ship,” quoth he.
“ Hold off ! unhand me, grey-beard loon! ”
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
He holds him with his glittering eye —
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years’ child:
The Mariner hath his will.
The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
He- cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
215


216
Mystery Tales
“ The ship was cheer’d, the harbor clear’d,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.
The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.
Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon —”
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.
The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.
The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
“ And now the Storm-blast came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong;
He struck with his o’ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.
With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow


The Rime of the Ancient Mariner 217
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roar’d the blast,
And southward aye we fled.
And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold;
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.
And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen:
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken —
The ice was all between.
The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around: -
It crack’d and growl’d, and roar’d and howl’d,
Like noises in a swound!
At length did cross an Albatross,
Through the fog it came;
As if it had been a Christian soul,
We hail’d it in God’s name.
It ate the food it ne’er had eat,
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steer’d us through!
And a good south wind sprung up behind;
The Albatross did follow,


218
Mystery Tales
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariners’ hollo!
In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perch’d for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmer’d the white moonshine.”
“ God save thee, ancient Mariner,
From the fiends, that plague thee thus! —
Why look’st thou so? ”—“ With my crossbow
I shot the Albatross.
PART II
“ The Sun now rose upon the right:
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left
Went down into the sea.
And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the mariners’ hollol
And I had done a hellish thing,
And it would work ’em woe;
For all averr’d I had kill’d the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow!


The Rime of the Ancient Mariner 219
Nor dim nor red, like God’s own head,
The glorious Sun uprist:
Then all averr’d I had kill’d the bird
That brought the fog and mist.
’Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.
The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow follow’d free;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.
Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
’Twas sad as sad could be ;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea!
All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.
Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.


220
Mystery Tales
The very deep did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.
About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch’s oils,
Burnt green, and blue, and white.
And some in dreams assured were
Of the Spirit that plagued us so;
Nine fathom deep he had follow’d us
From the land of mist and snow.
And every tongue, through utter drought,
Was wither’d at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.
Ah! well a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.
PART III
“ There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parch’d, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time!
How glazed each weary eye!


The Rtme of the Ancient Mariner 221
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.
At first it seem’d a little speck,
And then it seem’d a mist;
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.
'A speck, a mist, a shape, I vvist!
'And still it near’d and near’d ;
As if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged, and tack’d and veer’d.
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could not laugh nor wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I hit my arm, I suck’d the blood,
And cried, A sail! a sail!
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
Agape they heard me call:
Gramercy! they for joy did grin,
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were drinking all.
See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!
Hither to work us weal —
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel!
The western wave was all aflame,
The day was wellnigh done!


The Rime of the Ancient Mariner 223
The Sun’s rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper, o’er the sea,
Off shot the spectre-bark.
We listen’d and look’d sideways up!
Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
My life-blood seem’d to sip!
The stars were dim, and thick the night,
The steersman’s face by his lamp gleam’d white;
From the sails the dew did drip —
Till clomb above the eastern bar
The horned Moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip.
One after one, by the star-dogg’d Moon,
Too quick for groan or sigh,
Each turn’d his face with a ghastly pang,
And cursed me with his eye.
Four times fifty living men
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan),
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropp’d down one by one.
The souls did from their bodies fly—
They fled to bliss or woe!
And every soul, it pass’d me by
Like the whizz of my crossbow!”


224
Mystery Tales
PART IV
“ I fear thee, ancient Mariner!
I fear thy skinny hand!
And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribb’d sea-sand.
I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
And thy skinny hand so brown.”—
“ Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!
This body dropt not down.
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide, wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.
The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie:
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I.
I look’d upon the rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away;
I look’d upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.
I look’d to heaven, and tried to pray;
But or ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came, and made
My heart as dry as dust.


The Rime of the Ancient Mariner 225
I closed my lids, and kept them close,
And the balls like pulses beat;
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky,
Lay like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.
The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
Nor rot nor reek did they:
The look with which they look’d on me
Had never pass’d away.
An orphan’s curse would drag to hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man’s eye!
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.
The moving Moon went up the sky,
And nowhere did abide;
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside—
Her beams bemock’d the sultry main,
Like April hear-frost spread;
But where the ship’s huge shadow lay,
The charmed water burnt alway
A still and awful red.
Beyond the shadow of the ship,
I watch’ (1 the water-snakes:


226
Mystery Tales
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they rear’d, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.
Within the shadow of the ship
I watch’d their rich attire:
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coil’d and swam; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.
0 happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gush’d from my heart,
And I bless’d them unaware:
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I bless’d them unaware.
The selfsame moment I could pray;
And from my neck so free
The Albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.
PART V
“ 0 sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the praise be given!
She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,
That slid into my soul.
The silly buckets on the deck,
That had so long remain’d,


The Rime of the Ancient Mariner 227
I dreamt that they were fill’d with dew;
And when I awoke, it rain’d.
My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
My garments all were dank;
Sure I had drunken in my dreams,
And still my body drank.
I moved, and could not feel my limbs:
I was so light— almost
I thought that I had died in sleep,
And was a blessed ghost.
And soon I heard a roaring wind:
It did not come anear;
But with its sound it shook the sails,
That were so thin and sere.
The upper air burst into life;
And a hundred fire-flags sheen;
To and fro they were hurried about!
And to and fro, and in and out,
The wan stars danced between.
And the coming wind did roar more loud,
And the sails did sigh like sedge;
And the rain pour’d down from one black cloud;
The Moon was at its edge.
The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The Moon was at its side;


228
Mystery Tales
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning fell with’never a jag,
A river steep and wide.
The loud wind never reach’d the ship,
Yet now the ship moved on!
Beneath the lightning and the Moon
The dead men gave a groan.
They groan’d, they stirr’d, they all uprose,
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;
It had been strange, even in a dream,
To have seen those dead men rise.
The helmsman steer’d, the ship moved on;
Yet never a breeze up-blew ;
The mariners all ’gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do;
They raised their limbs like lifeless tools ——
We were a. ghastly crew.
The body of my brother’s son
Stood by me, knee to knee:
The body and I pull’d at one rope,
But he said naught to me.”
“ I fear thee, ancient Mariner!”
“Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest:
’Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corses came again,
But a troop of spirits blest.


The Rime of the Ancient Mariner 229
For when it dawn’d — they dropp’d their arms,
And cluster’d round the mast;
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their months,
And from their bodies pass’d.
Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
Then darted t0 the Sun;
Slowly the sounds came back again,
Now mix’d, now one by one.
Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
I heard the skylark sing;
Sometimes all little birds that are,
How they seem’d to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning!
And now ’twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute;
And now it is an angel’s song,
That makes the Heavens be mute.
It ceased; yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon,
A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.
Till noon we quietly sail’d on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.


The Rime of the Ancient Mariner 231
He loved the bird that loved the man
Who shot him with his bow.’
The other was a softer voice,
As soft as honey-dew:
Quoth he, ‘ The man hath penance done,
And penance more will do.’
PART VI
First voice:
“ ‘ But tell me, tell me! speak again,
Thy soft response renewing —
What makes that ship drive on so fast?
What is the Ocean doing? ’
Second voice:
‘ Still as a slave before his lord,
The Ocean hath no blast;
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the Moon is cast—
If he may know which way to go;
For she guides him smooth or grim.
See, brother, see! how graciously
She looketh down on him.’
First voice:
‘But why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?’


232
Mystery Tales
Second voice:
‘ The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind.
Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!
Or we shall be belated:
For slow and slow that ship will go,
When the Mariner’s trance is abated.’
I woke, and we were sailing on
As in a gentle weather;
’ Twas night, calm night, the Moon was high;
The dead men stood together.
All stood together on the deck,
For a charnel-dungeon fitter:
All fix’d on me their stony eyes,
That in the Moon did glitter.
The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never pass’d away:
I could not draw my eyes from theirs,
Nor turn them up to pray.
And now this spell was snapt: once more
I viewed the ocean green,
And look’d far forth, yet little saw
Of what had else been seen —
Like one that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,


The Rime of the Ancient Mariner 233
And having once turn’d round, walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.
But soon there breathed a wind on me,
Nor sound nor motion made;
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.
It raised my hair, it 'fann’d my cheek
Like a meadow-gale of spring—
It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.
Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sail’d softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze—
On me alone it blew.
0 dream of joy! is this indeed
The lighthouse top I see?
Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
Is this mine own countree?
We drifted o’er the harbor-bar,
And I with sobs did pray —
0 let me be awake, my God!
Or let me sleep alway.
The harbor-bay was clear as glass,
So smoothly it was strewn!


The Rime of the Ancient Mariner 235
But soon I heard the dash of ears,
I heard the Pilot’s cheer;
My head was turn’d perforce away,
And I saw a boat appear.
The Pilot and the Pilot’s boy,
I heard them coming fast:
Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy
The dead men could not blast.
I saw a third — I heard his voice:
It is the Hermit good!
He singeth loud his godly hymns
That he makes in the wood.
He’ll shrieve my soul, he’ll wash away
The Albatross’s blood.
PART VII
“ This hermit good lives in that wood
Which slopes down to the sea.
How loudly his sweet voice he rears!
He loves to talk with marineres
That come from a far countree.
'He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve —
He hath a cushion plump:
It is the mess that wholly hides
The rotted old oak-stump.


236
Mystery Tales
The skiff-boat near’d: I heard them talk,
‘ Why, this is strange, I trow!
Where are those lights so many and fair,
That signal made but now?’
‘ Strange, by my faith! ’ the Hermit said —
‘ And they answer’d not our cheer!
The planks look warp’d! and see those sails,
How thin they are and sere!
I never saw aught like to them,
Unless perchance it were
Brown skeletons of leaves that lag
My forest-brook along;
When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow,
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
That eats the she-wolf’s young.’
»‘ Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look —
(The Pilot made reply) '
I am a-feared.’—‘ Push on, push on!’
Said the Hermit cheerily.
The boat came closer to the ship,
But I nor spake nor stirr’d;
The boat came close beneath the ship,
And straight a sound was heard.
Under the water it rumbled on,
Still louder and more dread:


The Rime of the Ancient Mariner 237
It reach’d the ship, it split the bay;
The ship went down like lead.
Stunn’d by that loud and dreadful sound,
Which sky and ocean smote,
Like one that hath been seven days drown’d
My body lay afloat;
But swift as dreams, myself I found
Within the Pilot’s boat.
Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,
The boat spun round and round;
And all was still, save that the hill
Was telling of the sound.
I moved my lips — the Pilot shriek’d
And fell down in a fit;
The holy Hermit raised his eyes,
And pray’d where he did sit.
I took the oars: the Pilot’s boy,
Who now doth crazy go,
Laugh’d loud and long, and all the while
His eyes went to and fro.
‘ Ha! ha! ’ quoth he, ‘ full plain I see
The Devil knows how to row.’
And now, all in my own countree,
I stood on the firm land!
The Hermit stepp’d forth from the boat,
And scarcely he could stand.


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that)!"



DON RODERICK AND THE MAGIC TOWER
A LEGEND or THE LAST on THE GOTHIo KINGS or
SPAIN
WASHINGTON IRVING-
Now, so it happened, according to the legend, that as
1King Roderick was seated one day on his throne, sur—
rounded by his nobles, in the ancient city of Toledo, two
men of venerable appearance entered the hall of audience.
Their snowy beards descended to their breasts, and their
gray hairs were bound with ivy. They were arrayed in
240


Don Roderick and the Magic Tower 241
white garments of foreign or antiquated fashion, which
swept the ground, and were cinctured with girdles, wrought
with the signs of the zodiac, from which were suspended
enormous bunches of keys of every variety of form. Hav-
ing approached the throne and made obeisance,—“ Know,
0 king,” said one of the old men, “ that in days of yore,
when Hercules of Lybia, surnamed the Strong, had set
up his pillars at the ocean strait, he erected a tower near
to this ancient city of Toledo. He built it of prodigious
strength, and finished it with magic art, shutting up within
it a fearful secret, never to be penetrated without peril
and disaster. To protect this terrible mystery he closed
the entrance to the edifice with a ponderous door of iron,
secured by a great lock of steel, and he left a command
that every king who should succeed him should add an-
other lock to the portal; denouncing woe and destruction
on him who should eventually unfold the secret of the
tower.
“ The guardianship of the portal was given to our an-
cestors, and has continued in our family, from generation
to generation, since the days of Hercules. Several kings,
from time to time, have caused the gate to be thrown open,
and have attempted to enter, but have paid dearly for their
temerity. Some have perished within the threshold;
others have been overwhelmed with horror at tremendous
sounds, which shook the foundations of the earth, and
have hastened to reclose the door and secure it with its
thousand locks. Thus, since the days of Hercules, the
inmost recesses of the pile have never been penetrated by
mortal man, and a profound mystery continues to prevail
over this great enchantment. This, 0 king, is all we have


242 Mystery Tales
to relate; and our errand is to entreat thee to repair to
the tower and affix thy lock to the portal, as has been done
by all thy predecessors.” Having thus said, the ancient
men made a profound reverence and departed from the
presence-chamber.
Don Roderick remained for some time lost in thought
after the departure of the men; he then dismissed all his
court excepting the venerable Urbino, at that time arch-
bishop of Toledo. The long white beard of this prelate
bespoke his advanced age, and his overhanging eyebrows
showed him a man full of wary counsel.
“ Father,” said the king, “ I have an earnest desire to
penetrate the mystery of this tower.”
The worthy prelate shook his hoary head. “ Beware,
my son,” said he; “ there are secrets hidden from man for
his good. Your predecessors for many generations have
respected this mystery, and have increased in might and
empire. A knowledge of it, therefore, is not material to
the welfare of your kingdom. Seek not then to indulge
a rash and unprofitable curiosity, which is interdicted un-
der such awful menaces.”
“ Of what importance,” cried the king, “ are the menaces
of Hercules the Libyan? Was he not a pagan? and can
his enchantments have aught avail against a believer in
our holy faith? Doubtless in this tower are locked up
treasures of gold and jewels, amassed in days of old, the
spoils of mighty kings, the riches of the pagan world. My
coffers are exhausted; I have need of supply: and surely
it would be an acceptable act in the eyes of Heaven to
draw forth this wealth which lies buried under profane and
necromantic spells, and consecrate it to religious purposes.”


Don Roderich and the Magic Tower 243
The venerable archbishop still continued to remonstrate,
but Don Roderick heeded not his counsel, for he was led
on by his malignant star. “Father,” said he, “it is in
vain you attempt to dissuade me. My resolution is fixed.
To-morrow I will explore the hidden mystery, or rather
the hidden treasures, of this tower.”
The morning sun shone brightly upon the cliff-built
towers of Toledo, when King Roderick issued out of the
gate of the city at the head of a numerous train of court-
iers and cavaliers, and crossed the bridge that bestrides
the deep rocky bed of the Tagus. The shining cavalcade
wound up the road that leads among the mountains, and
soon came in sight of the necromantic tower.
Of this renowned edifice marvels are related by the an—
cient Arabian and Spanish chroniclers. “And I doubt
much,” adds the venerable Agapida, “whether many read—
ers will not consider the whole as a cunningly devised
fable, sprung from an Oriental imagination; but it is not
for me to reject a fact which is recorded by all those
writers who are the fathers of our national history; a
fact, too, which is as well attested as most of the remark-
able events in the story of Don Roderick. None but light
and inconsiderate minds,” continues the good friar, “ do
hastily reject the marvelous. To the thinking mind the
whole world is enveloped in mystery, and everything is
full of type and portent. To such a mind the necromantic
tower of Toledo will appear as one of those wondrous
monuments of the olden time; one of those Egyptian and
Chaldaic piles, storied with hidden wisdom and mys-
tic prophecy, which have been devised in past ages, when
man yet enjoyed an intercourse with high and spiritual


244 Mystery Tales
natures, and when human foresight partook 0f divination.”
This singular tower was round and of great height and
grandeur, erected upon a lofty rock, and surrounded by
crags and precipices. The foundation was supported by
four brazen lions, each taller than a cavalier on horse—
back. The walls were built of small pieces of asper and
various colored marbles, not larger than a man’s hand;
so subtilely joined, however, that, but for their different
hues, they might be taken for one entire stone. They
were arranged with marvelous cunning, so as to represent
battles and warlike deeds of times and heroes long since
passed away, and the whole surface was so admirably pol-
ished that the stones were as lustrous as glass, and reflected
the rays of the sun with such resplendent brightness as to
dazzle all beholders.
King Roderick and his courtiers arrived wondering
and amazed at the foot of the rock. Here there was a
narrow arched way out through the living stone, the only
entrance to the tower. It was closed by a massive iron
gate, covered with rusty locks of divers workmanship, and
in the fashion of diflerent centuries, which had been af—
fixed by the predecessors of Don Roderick. On either side
of the portal stood the two ancient guardians of the tower,
laden with the keys appertaining to the locks.
The king alighted, and approaching the portals or-
dered the guardians to unlock the gate. The hoary-headed
men drew back with terror. “Alas! ” cried they, “ what
is it Your Majesty requires of us? Would you have the
mischiefs of this tower unbound, and let loose to shake
the earth to its foundations?”
The venerable Archbishop Urbino likewise implored


'Don Roderick and the Magic Tower 245
him not to disturb a mystery which had been held sacred
from generation to generation within the memory of man,
and which even Caesar himself, when sovereign of Spain,
had not ventured to invade. The youthful cavaliers, how-
ever, were eager to pursue the adventure, and encouraged
him in his rash curiosity.
“ Come what come may,” exclaimed Don Roderick, “ I
am resolved to penetrate the mystery of this tower.” So
saying, he again commanded the guardians to unlock the
portal. The ancient men obeyed with fear and trem-
bling, but their hands shook with age, and when they
applied the keys the locks were so rusted by time, or of
such strange workmanship, that they resisted their feeble
efforts, whereupon the young cavaliers pressed forward
and lent their aid. Still the locks were so numerous and
difficult, that with all their eagerness and strength a great
part of the day was exhausted before the whole of them
could be mastered.
When the last bolt had yielded to the key, the guardians
and the reverend archbishop again entreated the king to
pause and reflect. “ Whatever is within this tower,” said
they, “is as yet harmless, and lies bound under a mighty
spell; venture not then to open a door which may let
forth a flood of evil upon the land.” But the anger of the
king was roused, and he ordered that the portal should
instantly be thrown open. In vain, however, did one
after another exert his strength, and equally in vain did
the cavaliers unite their forces, and apply their shoulders
to the gate; though there was neither bar nor bolt re-
maining, it was perfectly immovable.
The patience of the king was now exhausted, and he


246 Mystery Tales
advanced to apply his hand; scarcely, however, did he
touch the iron gate, when it swung slowly open, uttering,
as it were, a dismal groan, as it turned reluctantly upon
its hinges. A cold, damp wind issued forth, accompanied
by a tempestuous sound. The hearts of the ancient
guardians quaked within them, and their knees smote to-
gether; but several of the youthful cavaliers rushed in,
eager to gratify their curiosity, or to signalize themselves
in this redoubtable enterprise. They had scarcely ad-
vanced a few paces, however, when they recoiled, over-
come by the baleful air, or by some fearful vision. Upon
this, the king ordered that fires should be kindled to dispel
the darkness, and to correct the noxious and long-im-
prisoned air; he then led the way into the interior; but,
though stout of heart, he advanced with awe and hesita-
tion.
After proceeding a short distance, he entered a hall or
antechamber, on the opposite side of which was a door,
and before it, on a pedestal, stood a gigantic figure, of the
color of bronze and of a terrible aspect. It held a huge
mace, which it whirled incessantly, giving such cruel and
resounding blows upon the earth as to prevent all further
entrance.
The king paused at sight of this appalling figure, for
whether it were a living being, or a statue of magic arti-
fice, he could not tell. On its breast was a scroll, whereon
was inscribed, in large letters, “ I do my duty.” After
a little while Roderick plucked up heart, and addressed
it with great solemnity. “Whatever thou be,” said he,
“ know that I come not to violate this sanctuary, but to


Don Roderick and the Magic Tower 247
inquire into the mystery it contains; I conjure thee, there-
fore, to let me pass in safety.”
Upon this the figure paused with uplifted mace, and the
king and his train passed unmolested through the door.
They now entered a vast chamber, of a rare and sump-
tuous architecture, difficult to be described. The walls
were incrusted with the most precious gems, so joined
together as to form one smooth and perfect surface. The
lofty dome appeared to be self-supported, and was studded
with gems, lustrous as the stars of_ the firmament. There
was neither wood, nor any other common or base material
to be seen throughout the edifice. There were no win-
dows or other openings to admit the day, yet a radiant light
was spread throughout the place which seemed to shine
from the walls and to render every object distinctly visible.
In the centre of this hall stood a table of alabaster, of
the rarest workmanship, on which was inscribed, in Greek
characters, that Hercules Alcides, the Theban Greek, had
founded this tower in the year of the world three thousand
and six. Upon the table stood a golden casket, richly set
round with precious stones, and closed with a lock of
mother-of-pearl, and on the lid were inscribed the follow-
ing words :—
“ In this coifer is contained the mystery of the tower.
The hand of none but a king can open it; but let him be-
ware! for marvelous events will be revealed to him, which
are to take place before his death.”
King Roderick boldly seized upon the casket. The
venerable archbishop laid his hand upon his arm, and
made a last remonstrance. “ Forbear, my son,” said he;


Don Roderick and the Magic Tower 251
ing on the summit of the tower, fanned the fire with his
wings. In a little while the whole edifice burst forth into
a blaze, as though it had been built of rosin, and the flames-
mounted into the air with a brilliancy more dazzling than
the sun; nor did they cease until every stone was con-
sumed, and the whole was reduced to a heap of ashes.
Then there came a vast flight of birds, small of size and
sable of hue, darkening the sky like a cloud; and they
descended, and wheeled in circles round the ashes, caus-
ing so great a wind with their wings that the whole was
borne up into the air, and scattered throughout all Spain,
and wherever a particle of that ashes fell it was as a stain
of blood. It is furthermore recorded by ancient men and
writers of former days, that all those on whom this dust
fell were afterwards slain in battle, when the country was
conquered by the Arabs, and that the destruction of this
necromantic tower was a sign and token of the approach-
ing perdition of Spain. -


The American Coracle 253
of a bay running very far into the land, where a great
river flowed through the harbor into the bay.
The land round about was a pleasant and good place
for men to build homes; seeing which Madog, and those
others who were in the ship, purposed to go back to Wales,
and having brought thence wives and children and cattle,
to make this good land their own. Nor did they wait
long to sail away, for very little food was in the ship.
But because of the lack of food on the ship, and because
they wished to stay that they might learn more of the new
land, four men stood on the shore and watched the white
sail of that ship while it might still be seen. These were
Madog, Cynfrig ap Rhy and Grufl'yd his brother; also
with them staid Meilyr Hen (that is to say Meilyr the
Old; he whose son fought in the Holy War), a silent man,
very large and strong. Of these men every one was
stout and faithful, not afraid of hardship; also every
man had red hair.
When the ship had sailed away these four walked to-
gether on the shore. There were no people, nor any cattle.
On the shore and in the moist earth there were no foot-
prints, and the trees showed mark neither of axe nor of fire.
The men went farther from the sea, following the
course of the river. They suiiered not at all from hunger
nor cold; for food was very plentiful, both birds and four-
footed beasts, and the days and the nights were warm.
They saw no towns, but often met with people who dressed
in skins of beasts, feeding upon the flesh of those beasts
and upon great white grains of corn.
The men traveled far, and reaching a country of high
mountains were lost; for the sun was bid by dark clouds


The American 0' oracle 255
ant, and hope had begun to grow in the hearts of the men,
the face of Madog grew pinched and blue; all his body
shook and his teeth knocked together. Through the long
night he moaned, and when the sun rose again the others
also fell sick, save Meilyr the Old. That man’s giant
strength and iron frame defied both sharp hunger and
the poisonous breath of the marshes; yet hope came not
back into his heart, for the famine was sore, and his
strength availed him not at all to fight against the fever.
Meilyr rowed the boat to the shore, where dry land
was, and made beds of rushes for his ailing companions,
leaving them to shiver and to moan while he sought food.
Not far from the place where the men lay was the
mouth of a little stream. Meilyr pushed his boat into
the shallow water, and before him swam a great fish, not
much less in weight than a small man. The fish, en-
tangled among reeds and sedge, flopped heavily and slowly;
and Meilyr, leaping into the water, seized it in both hands,
heaving it into the boat and sitting down upon its head
as he pushed the boat out into the stream.
As a face which had gleamed bright in the lightning’s
sudden glare, as a dream face which had come and gone
without sound of footsteps, Meilyr saw the features of a
woman of the country, as she peered through thick bushes
bordering the stream. It was the face of one famine-
stricken, whose eyes were fixed hungrin upon the fish.
Meilyr rowed quickly back to his companions.
“ Up, all of ye! ” he said; and as he spoke there sounded
from the thick wood not far away a shrill and wavering
cry which was echoed and repeateddill the very sky seemed
made of fierce noises, and to be falling down upon them.


256 Mystery Tales
“We must hence with speed and seek a safe hiding-
place,” said Meilyr.
Madog lay upon his back feeling neither hot nor cold,
but very weak. Cynfrig and Gruflyd sat each with his
chin upon his knees, shivering horribly.
Madog answered, “ Hide thyself; and God be with
thee. Stay not at all for men about to die. Haste thee;
and if so it may be, take thou back to Wales a good word
to them that loved us.”
The others said nothing, but Cynfrig nodded his head.
Meilyr said in scorn of such an act, “ There he fools
of our line sometimes, but cowards never ”; and he lifted
Madog in his arms, and carried him to the boat, coming
back also for Grufiyd. Cynfrig walked alone, albeit stag-
geringly.
Out from the shadow of the waving rushes came a slen-
der boat; from behind the trunk of a great tree fallen into
the river came another, and from the mouth of the small
stream a third; and in each boat were naked men, as many
as could find room, kneeling so that the knees of one man
touched the feet of him in front.
Meilyr turned his boat down the stream and rowed
away; and Madog lifted himself upon his elbow to see.
The savages shrieked horribly; their short paddles
flashed in the sunlight; then silently their lank but power—
ful bodies swayed back and forth as with skill and strength
they drove their boats forward.
Meilyr the Old saw, and despair crept into his heart.
Nevertheless he shut his teeth, and right manfully be bent
his great back, tugging till the good oars squeaked in the
rowlocks, and white spray flew from his boat’s prow.


The American Ooracle 257
Like snakes of strength and speed, with eager heads
nodding, the long boats of the pursuers came silently.
Meilyr’ s chest heaved, and his quick breath came gasp-
ingly through his wide-open mouth. The knotted muscles
-of his good arms shrunk and swelled; but his grip lost its
firmness and his oar-strokes grew unsteady.
Madog saw and he laughed. “ If it is so that we must
die, good Meilyr,” he said, “yet shall not these that are
to overcome us eat of thy great fish.”
S0 saying he heaved up the fish to cast it out of the boat.
Lacking strength to do so, he stood up and lifted the fish
by the gills. There was a strange cry from those of the
pursuers who were nearest, and every naked man of them
drove his paddle deep into the water, pushing upon it that
the boat might be stopped. The other boats came up and
stopped likewise, and then Meilyr ceased to row. One
savage stood in the bow of his boat, and his fellows clasped
their hands above their heads to show that they held no
arms.
He who stood paddled slowly till the boats were near
together. He made signs to Meilyr, showing that the lives
of the Welshmen should be spared in return for fishes -—
the great fish to be for the ransom of Meilyr, and others,
smaller, for his companions — a fish for each man.
Gladly Meilyr agreed, and all the boats were taken to
the shore near the place where the men of that country
abode with their women and their children, and the old
women gave the sick ones to drink of water wherein had
been soaked bitter roots and barks.
The Welshmen were held as slaves, yet in a little time
they came to be chiefs; and it happened in this wise:


258 Mystery Tales
In the river were thousands and tens of thousands of
those fishes whereof Meilyr had caught one; but they
swam deep, and in the muddy water could not be taken
nor ever seen. They sought the shallow water of the
marshes at spawning time, but the men of the country
could not drag their heavy boats over tree trunks and
branches, through the rushes and rank grass; and some
died wretchedly, trying to reach the fish across mud
flats too thin to support a man, and too thick for swim-
ming.
Now in three days the sick men were well, though
weak; in three days more they had made a boat like a
great tub, of branches lashed together for a frame, and a
covering of skins. The boat, large enough to support
three men, was yet so light that one could carry it easily.
They moved it slowly, sticking a paddle out in front; and
in it, in one day, two men took more fish than a hundred
men could eat.
When the land became dry, the birds and the beasts
came back; and the Welshmen proved themselves skillful
in the chase and good fighters against them that would
spoil them of their goods. '
Therefore those who had been strangers were made
chiefs by the old men of the tribe; afterward they took to
themselves women of the country as wives; and they abode,
and were neither anhungered nor unhappy. Only Cyn-
frig ap Rhy, being homesick, found his way back to
Wales; and the monks of the abbeys of Conway and of
Strat Flur heard his tale and saved from forgetfulness
the story of the doings of him who had been Prince of
Wales.


The American Coracle 259
So, some say, the record ran, written with care and
skill, which was read by Gullon Owen the bard. Others
say that writing was not done by gowned monk, loyal to
those of the line of Owen Gwynodd, but was forged in
later days by some wicked clerk, who thus sought to steal
from Columbus the Genoese, some of his great honor.
Whether such record was made early or late, or not at
all; whether those Englishmen told the truth who, not
much more than a hundred years after the first voyage of
Columbus, penetrated the great forests of America and
brought back the story of a tribe of “ Indians who spoke
the British (that is Welsh) tongue ” ; whether those later
travelers, who followed the course of the Mississippi River
and explored its tributaries, were accurate in their state-
ment that they had met “ Indians who spoke Welsh, or at
least made use of some Welsh words, and had mostly red
hair,” it is at least certain that until 1839 a tribe of In-
dians, not white, yet of lighter skin than any other of the
aboriginal inhabitants of America, who called themselves
Mandans, inhabited lands bordering upon the Mississippi
River, both above and below its confluence with the Mis-
souri.
Whether the Mandans used any Welsh words, no one
can now say. But they subsisted largely upon the great
buffalo fish, which they took with spears as they sat in
round boats having a frame of branches lashed together
and covered with tanned buffalo skins; which boats they
propelled by sticking their paddles out in front and slowly
pulling themselves along in a manner just the reverse of
what sailors call sculling. In the winter of 1838—39,
nearly all the men of the Mandan tribe died from small-


260 Mystery Tales
pox, and the Ricarees and the Sioux murdered those who
were left. The Sioux made prisoners of some of the
women, and afterward married them, taking their names
as well as their persons.
Good wives those Mandan women proved to be, for they
brought to their husbands, and left as a heritage for their
children, the knowledge that enabled them to build and
propel a boat which can navigate the great marshes that
are the spawning grounds of the buffalo fish of the Miss-
issippi basin.
The only other boat in the world so built, is the Welsh
coracle; and the owner of that strange round craft sits
and propels it slowly, sticking his paddle out in front as
never any boatman does except the Welsh fisherman and
the Mandan-Sioux Indian.


“g , -~
/ - _,“ ';_ x f-z'
: (\


THOMAS THE RHYMER
SCOTTISH BALLAD
TRUE Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;
A ferlie he spied wi’ his e’e;
And there he saw a ladye bright
Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.
Her skirt was 0’ the grass-green silk,
Her mantle 0’ the velvet fyne;
At ilka tett 0’ her horse’s mane,
Hung fifty siller bells and nine.
True Thomas he pu’d afi his cap,
And louted low down on his knee:
261


262
Mystery Tales
“ Hail to thee, Mary, Queen of Heaven!
For thy peer on earth could never be.”
“ 0 no, O no, Thomas,” she said,
“ That name does not belang to me;
I’m but the Queen 0’ fair Elfland,
That am hither come to visit thee.
“ Harp and carp, Thomas,” she said;
“ Harp and carp along wi’ me;
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
Sure of your bodie I will be.”
“ Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That weird shall never daunten me.”
Syne he has kiss’d her rosy lips,
All underneath the Eildon Tree.
“ Now ye maun go wi’ me,” she said,
“ True Thomas, ye maun go wi’ me;
And ye maun serve me seven years,
Thro’ weal or woe as may chance to be.”
She’s mounted on her milk-white steed,
She’s ta’en true Thomas up behind;
And aye, whene’er her bridle rang,
The steed gaed swifter than the wind.
0 they rade on, and farther on,
The steed gaed swifter than the wind;
Until they reach’d a desert wide,
And living land was left behind.


Thomas the Rhymer 263
“ Light down, light down now, true Thomas,
And lean your head upon my knee;
Abide ye there a little space,
And I will show you ferlies three.
“ 0 see ye not you narrow road,
So thick beset wi’ thorns and briers?
That is the Path of Righteousness,
Though after it but few inquires.
“ And see ye not you braid, braid road,
That lies across the lily leven?
That is the Path of Wickedness,
Though some call it the Road to Heaven.
“ And see ye not yon bonny road
That winds about the fernie brae?
That is the Road to fair Elfland,
Where thou and I this night maun gae.
“But, Thomas, ye shall haud your tongue,
Whatever ye may hear or see;
For speak ye word in Elfiyn-land,
Ye’ 11 ne’er win back to your ain countrie.”
0 they rade on, and farther on,
And they waded rivers abune the knee;
And they saw neither sun nor moon,
But they heard the roaring of the sea.
It was mirk, mirk night, there was nae starlight,
They waded thro’ red blude to the knee;


264
Mystery Tales
For a’ the blude that’s shed on the earth
Rins through the springs 0’ that countrie.
Sync they came to a garden green,
And she pu’d an apple frae a tree:
“ Take this for thy wages, true Thomas;
It will give thee the tongue that can never lee.”
“ My tongue is my ain,” true Thomas he said;
“ A gudely gift ye wad gie to me!
I neither dought to buy or sell
At fair or tryst where I might be.
“ I dought neither speak to prince or peer,
Nor ask of grace from fair ladye! ”—
“ Now haud thy peace, Thomas,” she said,
“ For as I say, so must it be.”
He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
And a pair 0’ shoon of the velvet green;
' And till seven years were gane and past,
True Thomas on earth was never seen.


266 Mystery Tales
the sea? Do you not know that we have such powerful
enemies, that all the princes in Christendom cannot van-
quish them? Therefore you must always pray to San
Marco, for in his strong hands rest the chains which hold
Venice suspended over the depths of the sea.”
And in the evening, when the moon shed its light over
Venice, greenish-blue from the sea-mist; when they quietly
glided up the Canale Grande and the gondolasithey met
were full of singers; when the palaces shone in their white
splendor, and thousands of lights mirrored themselves in
the dark waters — then he always reminded them that they
must thank San Marco for life and happiness.
But oh, signor! he did not forget him in the daytime
either. When they returned from fishing and glided over
the water of the lagoons light-blue and golden; when the
city lay before them, swimming on the waves; when the
great ships passed in and out of the harbor, and the pal-
ace of the Doges shone like a huge jewel-casket, holding
all the world’s treasures—then he never forgot to tell
them that all these things were the gift of San Marco,
and that they would all vanish if a single Venetian was
ungrateful enough to give up believing in and adoring
him.
Then, one day, the sons went out fishing on the open
sea, outside Lido. They were in company with several
others, had a splendid vessel, and intended being away sev-
eral days. The weather was fine, and they hoped for a
goodly haul.
They left the Rialto, the large island where the city
proper lies, one early morning, and as they passed through
the lagoons they saw all the islands which, like fortifica-


The Fisherman’s Ring 267
tions, protect Venice against the sea appear through the
mist of the morning. There were La Giudecca and San
Giorgio on the right, and San Michele, Muracco and San
Lazzaro on the left. Then island followed upon island
in a large circle, right on to the long Lido lying straight
before them, and forming, as it were, the clasp of this
string of pearls. And beyond Lido was the wide, infinite
sea.
When they were well at sea, some of them got into a
small boat and rowed out to set their nets. It was still
fine weather, although the waves were higher here than
inside the islands. None of them, however, dreamt of any
danger. They had a good boat and were experienced
men. But soon those left on the vessel saw that the sea
and the sky suddenly grew darker in the north. They
understood that a storm was coming on, and they at once
shouted to their comrades, but they were already too far
away to hear them. '
The wind first reached the small boat. When the
fishermen suddenly saw the waves rise around them, like
herds of cattle on a large plain arise in the morning, one
of the men in the boat stood up and beckoned to his com-
rades, but the same moment he fell backwards into the
sea. Immediately afterwards a wave came which raised
the boat on her bows, and one could see how the men were
shaken from off their seats and flung into the sea. It
only lasted a moment, and everything had disappeared.
Then the boat again appeared, keel upwards. The men in
the vessel tried to reach the spot, but could not tack against
the wind.
It was a terrific storm which came rushing over the sea,


The Fisherman’s Ring 269
Cecco sat on the floor and moaned. He hit the hard
stone floor with his fist, and said over and over again:
“ It is San Marco, San Marco, San Marco! ”
“ Cecco, you have taken leave of your senses from
grief! ” they said to him.
“ I knew it would happen on the open sea,” Cecco said;
“ outside Lido and Malamocco, there, I knew it would
happen. There San Marco would take them. He bore
them a grudge. I have long feared it. Yes,” he said,
without hearing what they said to quieten him, “they
once laughed at him, once when we were lying outside
Lido. He has not forgotten it; he will not stand being
laughed at.”
He looked with confused glances at the bystanders, as if
to seek help.
“ Look here, Beppo from Malamocco,” he said, stretch-
ing out his hand towards a big fisherman, “ don’t you be-
lieve it was San Marco? ”
“ Don’t imagine any such thing, Cecco.”
“ Now you shall hear, Beppo, how it happened. You
see, we were lying out at sea, and to while away the time
I told them how San Marco had come to Venice. The
evangelist San Marco was first buried in a beautiful cathe-
dral at Alexandria in Egypt. But the town got into the
possession of unbelievers, and one day the Khalifa or-
dered that they should build him a magnificent palace
at Alexandria, and take some columns from the Christian
churches for its decoration. But just at that time there
were two Venetian merchants at Alexandria who had ten
heavily-laden vessels lying in the harbor. When these


The Fisherman’s Ring 271
stand why they should have lost their lives on that spot? ”
Now they all began to talk to him and comfort him.
It was his grief which made him lose his senses. This
was not like San Marco. He would not revenge himself
upon two children. Was it not natural that when a boat
was caught in a storm this would happen on the open sea
and not in the harbor?
Surely his sons had not lived in enmity with San
Marco. They had heard them shout, “ Eviva San
Marco! ” as eagerly as all the others, and had he not pro-
tected them to this very day? He had never, during the
years that had passed, shown any sign of being angry with
them.
“But, Cecco,” they said, “you will bring misfortune
upon us with your talk about San Marco. You, who are
an old man and a wise man, should know better than to
raise his anger against the Venetians. What are we
without him?”
Cecco sat and looked at them bewildered.
“ Then you don’t believe it? ”
“ No one in his senses would believe such a thing.”
It looked as if they had succeeded in quietening him.
“I will also try not to believe it,” he said. He rose
and walked towards the door. “It would be too cruel,
would it not ? ” he said. “ They were too handsome and
too brave for any one to hate them; I will not believe it.”
He went home, and in the narrow street outside his door
he met an old woman, one of his neighbors.
“ They are reading a Mass in the cathedral for the souls
of the dead,” she said to Cecco, and hurried away. She
was afraid of him; he looked so strange.


272 Mystery Tales
Cecco took his boat and made his way through the
small canals down to Riva degli Schiavoni. There was
a wide view from there; he looked towards Lido and the
sea. Yes, it was a hard wind, but not a storm by any
means; there were hardly any waves. And his sons had
perished in weather like this! It was inconceivable.
He fastened his boat, and went across the Piazzetta and
the Market Place into San Marco. There were many
people in the church, and they were all kneeling and pray-
ing in great fear; for it is much more terrible for the
Venetians, you know, than for any other people when
there is a disaster at sea. They do not get their living
from vineyards or fields, but they are all, every one of
them, dependent on the sea. Whenever the sea rose '
against any one of them they were all afraid, and hurried
to San Marco to pray to him for protection.
As soon as Cecco entered the cathedral he stopped.
He thought of how he had brought his little sons there,
and taught them to pray to San Marco. “ It is he who
carries us over the sea, who opens the gates of Byzance
for us and gives us the supremacy over the islands of
the East,” he said to them. Out of gratitude for all this
the Venetians had built San Marco the most beautiful
temple in the world, and no vessel ever returned from a
foreign port without bringing a gift for San Marco.
Then they had admired the red marble walls of the
cathedral and the golden mosaic ceiling. It was as if no
misfortune could befall a city that had such a sanctuary
for her patron Saint.
Cecco quickly knelt down and began to pray, one Pater-
noster after the other. It came back, he felt. He would


274 Mystery Tales
It disturbed those who were praying, and made them turn
round. And all who saw Cecco’s face were terrified;
he looked as if he were possessed of evil spirits.
Cecco immediately left the church, and at first felt it
as a great relief that he had been revenged upon the
Saint. He had treated him as one treats a usurer who de-
mands more than he is entitled to. “ Take this, too,” one
says, and throws his last gold piece in the fellow’s face
so that the blood runs down over his eyes. But the usurer
does not strike again—simply stoops and picks up the
zecchine. So, too, had San Marco done. He had ac-
cepted Cecco’s zecchine, having first robbed him of his
sons. Cecco had made him accept a gift which had been
tendered with such bitter hatred. Would an honorable
man have put up with such treatment? But San Marco
was a coward—both cowardly and revengeful. But he
was not likely to revenge himself upon Cecco. He was, no
doubt, pleased and thankful he had got the zecchine. He
simply accepted it and pretended that it had been given as
piously as could be.
When Cecco stood at the entrance, two vergers quickly
passed him.
“ It rises — it rises terribly! ” the one said.
“ What rises?” asked Cecco.
“ The water in the crypt. It has risen a foot in the last
two or three minutes.”
When Cecco went down the steps, he saw a small pool
of water on the Market Place close to the bottom step. It
was sea-water, which had splashed up from the Piazzetta.
He was surprised that the sea had risen so high, and he
hurried down to the Riva, where his boat lay. Every-


The Fisherman’s Ring 275
thing was as he had left it, only the water had risen con-
siderably. It came rolling in broad waves through the
five sea-gates; but the wind was not very strong. At the
Riva there were already pools of sea-water, and the canals
rose so that the doors in the houses facing the water had
to be closed. The sky was all gray like the sea.
It never struck Cecco that it might grow into a serious
storm. He would not believe any such thing. San
Marco had allowed his sons to perish without cause. He
felt sure this was no real storm. He would just like to
see if it would be a storm, and he sat down beside his boat
and waited.
Then suddenly rifts appeared in the dull gray clouds
which covered the sky. The clouds were torn asunder
and flung aside, and large storm-clouds came rushing,
black like warships, and from them scourging rain and
hail fell upon the city. And something like quite a new
sea came surging in from Lido. Ah, signer! they were
not the swan-necked waves you have seen out there, the
waves that bend their transparent necks and hasten to-
wards the shore, and which, when they are pitilessly re—
pulsed, float away again with their white foam-hair dis—
persed over the surface of the sea. These were dark
waves, chasing each other in furious rage, and over their
tops the bitter froth of the sea was whipped into mist.
The wind was now so strong that the seagulls could no
longer continue their quiet flight, but, shrieking, were
thrust from their course. Cecco soon saw them with much
trouble making their way towards the sea, so as not to
be caught by the storm and flung against the walls. Hun-
dreds of pigeons on San Marco’s Square flew up, beat-


276 Mystery Tales
ing their wings, so that it sounded like a new storm, and
hid themselves away in all the nooks and corners of the
church roof.
But it was not the birds alone that were frightened by
the storm. A couple of gondolas had already got loose,
and were thrown against the shore, and were nearly shat-
tered. And now all the gondoliers came rushing to pull
their boats into the boat-houses, or place them in shelter in
the small canals.
The sailors on the ships lying in the harbor worked
with the anchor-chains to make the vessels fast, in order
to prevent them drifting on to the shore. They took down
the clothes hanging up to dry, pulled their long caps well
over their foreheads, and began to collect all the loose
articles lying about in order to bring them below deck.
Outside the Canale Grands a whole fishing-fleet came
hurrying home. All the people from Lido and Malamocco
who had sold their goods at the Rialto were rushing home
wards, before the storm grew too violent.
Cecco laughed when he saw the fishermen bending over
their oars and straining themselves as if they were flee—
ing from death itself. Could they not see that it was only
a gust of wind? They could very well have remained and
given the Venetian women time to buy all their cuttle-
fish, and crabs.
He was certainly not going to pull his boat into shelter,
although the storm was now violent enough for any or—
dinary man to have taken notice of it. The floating
bridges were lifted up high and cast on to the shore, whilst
the washerwomen hurried home shrieking. The broad—
brimmed hats of the signors were blown off into the canals,


The Fisherman’s Ring 277
from whence the street-boys fished them out with great
glee. Sails were torn from the masts, and fluttered in
the air with a cracking sound; children were knocked
down by the strong wind; and the clothes hanging on the
lines in the narrow streets were torn to rags and carried
far away. '
Cecco laughed at the storm — a storm which drove the
birds away, and played all sorts of pranks in the street,
like a boy. But, all the same, he pulled his boat under
one of the arches of the bridge. One could really not know
what that wind might take it' into its head to do.
In the evening Cecco thought that it would have been
fun to have been out at sea. It would have been splendid
sailing with such a fresh wind. But on shore it was un-
pleasant. Chimneys were blown down; the roofs of the
boat-houses were lifted right off; it rained tiles from the
houses into the canals; the wind shook the doors and the
window-shutters, rushed in under the open loggias of the
palaces and tore off the decorations.
Cecco held out bravely, but he did not go home to
bed. He could not take the boat home with him, so it was
better to remain and look after it. But when any one
went by and said that it was terrible weather he would not
admit it. He had experienced very different weather in
his young days.
“Storm!” he said to himself —“ call this a stoma?
And they think, perhaps, that it began the same moment
I threw the zecchine to San Marco. As if he can com-
mand a real storm! ”
When night came the wind and the sea grew still more
violent, so that Venice trembled in her foundations. Doge


278 Mystery Tales
Gradenigo and the Gentlemen of the High Council went
in the darkness of the night to San Marco to pray for the
city. Torchbearers went before them, and the flames
were spread out by the wind, so that they lay flat, like pen-
nants. The wind tore the Doge’s heavy brocade gown, so
that two men were obliged to hold it.
Cecco thought this the most remarkable thing he had
ever seen—Doge Gradenigo going himself to the cathe-
dral on account of this bit of a wind! What would those
people have done if there had been a real storm?
The waves beat incessantly against the bulwarks. In the
darkness of the night it was as if white-headed monsters
sprang up from the deep, and with teeth and claws clung
fast to the piles to tear them loose from the shore. Cecco
fancied he could hear their angry snorts when they were
hurled back again. But he shuddered when he heard them
come again and again, and tear at the bulwarks.
It seemed to him that the storm was far more terrible
in the night. He heard shouts in the air, and that was
not the wind. Sometimes black clouds came drifting like
a whole row of heavy galleys, and it seemed as if they
advanced to make an assault on the city. Then he heard
distinctly some one speaking in one of the riven clouds
over his head.
“ Things look bad for Venice now,” it said from the one
cloud. “ Soon our brothers the evil spirits will come and
overthrow the city.”
“I am afraid San Marco will not allow it to happen,”
came as a response from the other cloud.
“ San Marco has been knocked down by a Venetian, so
he lies powerless, and cannot help any one,” said the first.


The Fisherman’s Ring 279
The storm carried the words down to old Cecco, and
from that moment he was on his knees, praying San Marco
for grace and forgiveness. For the evil spirits had spoken
the truth. It did indeed look bad for Venice. The fair
Queen of the Isles was near destruction. A Venetian
had mocked San Marco, and therefore Venice was in dan-
ger of being carried away by the sea. There would be
no more moonlit sails on her sea and in her canals, and
no more barcaroles would be heard from her black gon-
dolas. The sea would wash over the golden-haired sig-
noras, over the proud palaces, over San Marco, resplendent
with gold.
If there was no one to protect these islands, they were
doomed to destruction. Before San Marco came to Venice
it had often happened that large portions of them had been
washed away by the waves.
At early dawn San Marco’s Church bells began to ring.
People crept to the church, their clothes being nearly torn
off them.
The storm went on increasing. The priests had re—
solved to go out and adjure the storm and the sea. The
main doors of the cathedral were opened, and the long pro-
cession streamed out of the church. Foremost the cross
was carried, then came the choir-boys with wax candles,
and last in the procession were carried the banner of San
Marco and the Sacred Host.
But the storm did not allow itself to be cowed; on the
contrary, it was as if it wished for nothing better to play
with. It upset the choir—boys, blew out the wax candles,
and flung the baldachin, which was carried over the Host,
on to the top of the Doge’s palace. It was with the ut-


280 Mystery Tales
most trouble that they saved San Marco’s banner, with
the winged lion, from being carried away.
Cecco saw all this, and stole down to his boat moan-
ing loudly. The whole day he lay near the shore, often
wetted by the waves and in danger of being washed into
the sea. The whole day he was praying incessantly to God
and San Marco. He felt that the fate of the whole city
depended upon his prayers.
There were not many people about that day, but some
few went moaning along the Riva. All spoke about the
immeasurable damage the storm had wrought. One could
see the houses tumbling down on the Murano. It was as
if the whole island were under water. And also on the
Rialto one or two houses had fallen.
The storm continued the whole day with unabated vio-
lence. In the evening a large multitude of people as-
sembled at the Market Place and the Piazzetta, although
these were nearly covered with water. People dared not
remain in their houses, which shook in their very founda-
tions. And the cries of those who feared disaster mingled
with the lamentations of those whom it had already over-
taken. Whole dwellings were under water; children were
drowned in their cradles. The old and the sick had been
swept with the overturned houses into the waves.
Cecco was still lying and praying to San Marco. Oh,
how could the crime of a poor fisherman be taken in such
earnest? Surely it was not his fault that the saint was
so powerless! He would let the demons take him and
his boat; he deserved no better fate. But not the whole
city! —— oh, God in heaven, not the whole city!
“ My sons! ” Cecco said to San Marco. “What do I


282 Mystery Tales
and fro. He heard them wheeze like wild beasts every
time they made their assaults on the bulwarks. He did
not mind them much; it was worse about Venice.
Then he heard in the air above him the beating of strong
wings; this was surely San Marco’s lion flying overhead.
It moved backwards and forwards in the air; he saw and
yet he did not see it. Then it seemed to him as if it
descended on Riva degli Schiavoni, where he was lying,
and prowled about there. He was on the point of jumping
into the sea from fear, but he remained sitting where he
was. It was no doubt he whom the lion sought. If that
could only save Venice, then he was quite willing to let San
Marco avenge himself upon him.
Then the lion came crawling along the ground like a
cat. He saw it making ready to spring. He noticed that
it beat its wings and screwed its large carbuncle eyes to-
gether till they were only small fiery slits.
Then old Cecco certainly did think of creeping down to
his boat and hiding himself under the arch of the bridge,
but he pulled himself together and remained where he
was. The same moment a tall, imposing figure stood by
his side.
“ Good-evening, Cecco,” said the man; “ take your boat
and row me across to San Giorgio Maggiore.”
“ Yes, signor,” immediately replied the old fisherman.
It was as if he had awakened from a dream. The lion
had disappeared, and the man must be somebody who knew
him, although Cecco could not quite remember where he
had seen him before. He was glad to have company.
The terrible heaviness and anguish that had been over him
since he had revolted against the Saint suddenly vanished.


The Fisherman’s Ring 283
As to rowing across to San Giorgio, he did not for a mo-
ment think that it could be done.
“ I don’t believe we can even get the boat out,” he said
to himself.
But there was something about the man at his side that
made him feel he must do all he possibly could to serve
him; and he did succeed in getting out the boat. He
helped the stranger into the boat and took the ears.
Oecco could not help laughing to himself.
“ What are you thinking about? Don’t go out further
in any case,” he said. “ Have you ever seen the like of
these waves? Do tell him that it is not within the power
of man.”
But he felt as if he could not tell the stranger that it
was impossible. He was sitting there as quietly as if he
were sailing to the Lido on a summer’s eve. And Oecco
began to row to San Giorgio Maggiore.
It was a terrible row. Time after time the waves
washed over them.
“ Oh, stop him!” Oecco said under his breath; “do
stop the man who goes to sea in such weather! Otherwise
he is a sensible old fisherman. Do stop him!”
Now the boat was up a steep mountain, and then it went
down into a valley. The foam splashed down on Oecco
from the waves that rushed past him like runaway horses,
but in spite of everything he approached San Giorgio.
“For whom are you doing all this, risking boat and
life? ” he said. “ You don’t even know whether he can
pay you. He does not look like a fine gentleman. He is
no better dressed than you are.”
But he only said this to keep up his courage, and not


The Fisherman’s Ring 285
“ Now row out to the open sea,” said the first stranger.
Old Cecco shuddered. Should he row out to the sea,
where his sons perished? Now he had not a single cheer-
ful word to say to himself. He did not think so much of
the storm, but of the terror it was to have to go out to the
graves of his sons. If he rowed out there, he felt that a
he gave the stranger more than his life.
The three men sat silently in the boat as if they were
on watch. Cecco saw them bend forward and gaze into
the night. They had reached the gate of the sea at Lido,
and the great storm-ridden sea lay before them.
Cecco sobbed within himself. He thought of two dead
bodies rolling about in these waves. He gazed into the
water for two familiar faces. But onward the boat went.
Cecco did not give in.
Then suddenly the three men rose up in the boat; and
Cecco fell upon his knees, although he still went on hold-
ing the oars. A big ship steered straight against them.
Cecco could not quite tell whether it was a ship or only
drifting mist. The sails were large, spread out, as it
were, towards the four corners of heaven; and the hull was
gigantic, but it looked as if it were built of the lightest
sea—mist. He thought he saw men on board and heard
shouting; but the crew were like deep darkness, and the
shouting was like the roar of the storm. I
However it was, it was far too terrible to see the ship
steer straight upon them, and Cecco closed his eyes.
But the three men in the boat must have averted the
collision, for the boat was not upset. When Cecco looked
up the ship had fled out to sea, and loud wailings pierced
the night.


286 Mystery Tales
He rose, trembling, to row further. He felt so tired that
he could hardly hold the oars. But now there was no
longer any danger. The storm had gone down, and the
waves speedily laid themselves to rest.
“ Now row us back to Venice,” said the stranger to the
fisherman.
Cecco rowed the boat to Lido, where the Bishop went
on shore, and to San Giorgio, where the knight left them.
The first powerful stranger went with him all the way to
the Rialto.
When they had landed at Riva dein Schiavoni he said
to the fisherman:
“When it is daylight thou shalt go to the Doge and
tell him what thou hast seen this night. Tell him that
San Marco and San Giorgio and San Nicolo have to-night
fought the evil spirits that would destroy Venice, and have
put them to flight.”
“Yes, signor,” the fisherman answered, “I will tell
everything. But how shall I speak so that the Doge will
believe me? ”
Then San Marco handed him a ring with a precious
stone possessed of a wonderful lustre.
“ Show this to the Doge,” he said, “then he will under—
stand that it brings a message from me. He knows my
ring, which is kept in San Marco’s treasury in the cathe-
dral.”
The fisherman took the ring, and kissed it reverently.
“Further, thou shalt tell the Doge,” said the holy man,
“that this is a sign that I shall never forsake Venice.
Even when the last Doge has left Palazzo Ducali I will
live and preserve Venice. Even if Venice lose her islands


The Fisherman’s Ring 287
in the East and the supremacy of the sea, and no Doge
ever again sets out on the Bucintoro, even then I will pre-
serve the city beautiful and resplendent. It shall always
be rich and beloved, always be landed and its praises sung,
always a place of joy for men to live in. Say this, Cecco,
and the Doge will not forsake thee in thine old age.”
Then he disappeared; and soon the sun rose above the
gate of the sea at Torcello. With its first beautiful rays
it shed a rosy light over the white city and over the sea
that shone in many colors. A red glow lay over San
Giorgio and San Marco, and over the whole shore, stud-
ded with palaces. And in the lovely morning radiant
Venetian ladies came out on to the loggias and greeted with
smiles the rising day.
Venice was once again the beautiful goddess, rising from
the sea in her shell of rose-colored pearl. Beautiful as
never before, she combed her golden hair, and threw the
purple robe around her, to begin one of her happiest days.
For a transport of bliss filled her when the old fisherman
brought San Marco’s ring to the Doge, and she heard how
the Saint, new, and until the end of time, would hold his
protecting hand over her.


The Luck of Edenhall 289
Fill with red wine from Portugal! ”
The graybeard with trembling hand obeys;
A purple light shines over all,
It beams from the Luck of Edenhall.
Then speaks the Lord, and waves it light:
“ This glass of flashing crystal tall
Gave to my sires the Fountain-Sprite;
She wrote in it, I f this glass cloth fall,
Farewell then, 0 Lack of Edenhall!
“ ’ Twas right a goblet the Fate should be
Of the joyous race of Edenhall!
Deep draughts drink we right willingly;
And willingly ring, with merry call,
Kling! klang! to the Luck of Edenhall! ”
First rings it deep, and full, and mild,
Like to the song of a nightingale;
Then like the roar of a torrent wild;
Then mutters at last like the thunder’s fall,
The glorious Luck of Edenhall.
“ For its keeper takes a race of might,
The fragile goblet of crystal tall;
It has lasted longer than is right;
Kling! klang! —— with a harder blow than all
Will I try the Luck of Edenhall! ”
As the goblet ringing flies apart,
Suddenly cracks the vaulted hall;
And through the rift, the wild flames start;


THE PHANTOM ISLE
GIRALDUS Omnamsrs
AMONG the other islands is one newly formed, which
they call the Phantom Isle, which had its origin in this
manner. One calm day a large mass of earth rose to the
surface of the sea, where no land had ever been seen be-
fore, to the great amazement of the islanders who observed
it. Some of them said that it was a whale, or other im-
mense sea-monster; others, remarking that it continued
motionless, said: “ No; it is land.”
In order, therefore, to reduce their doubts to certainty,
some picked young men of the island determined to ap-
proach nearer the spot in a boat. When, however, they
came so near to it that they thought they should go on
shore, the island sank in the water and entirely vanished
from sight. The next day it re-appeared, and again
mocked the same youths with the like delusion. At length,
upon their rowing towards it on the third day, they fol-
lowed the advice of an older man, and let fly an arrow,
barbed with red-hot steel, against the island; and then
landing, found it stationary and habitable.
This adds one to the many proofs that fire is the greatest
of enemies to every sort of phantom; insomuch that those
who have seen apparitions, fall into a swoon as soon as
they are sensible of the brightness of fire. For fire, both
from its position and nature, is the noblest of the elements,
being a witness of the secrets of the heavens.
291








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HY-BRASAIL—THE ISLE OF THE BLEST
GERALD GRIFFIN
ON the ocean that hollows the rocks where ye dwell,
A shadowy land has appeared, as they tell;
Men thought it a region of sunshine and rest,
And they called it Hy-Brasail, the isle of the blest.
From year unto year on the ocean’s blue rim,
The beautiful spectre showed lovely and dim;
The golden clouds curtained the deep where it lay,
And it looked like an Eden, away, far away!
A peasant who heard of the wonderful tale,
292


Hy-Brasail— The Isle of the Blest 293
In the breeze of the Orient loosened his sail;
From Ara, the holy, he turned to the west,
For though Ara was holy, H y-Brasail was blest.
He heard not the voices that called from the shore —-
He heard not the rising wind’s menacing roar;
Home, kindred, and safety, he left on that day,
And he sped to Hy-Brasail, away, far away!
Morn rose on the deep, and that shadowy isle,
O’er the faint rim of distance, reflected its smile;
Noon burned on the wave, and that shadowy shore
Seemed lovelily distant, and faint as before;
Lone evening came down on the wanderer’s track,
And to Ara again he looked timidly back;
Oh! far on the verge of the ocean it lay,
Yet the isle of the blest was away, far away!
Rash dreamer, return! 0, ye winds of the main,
Bear him back to his own peaceful Ara again.
Rash fool! for a vision of fanciful bliss,
To barter thy calm life of labor and peace.
The warning of reason was spoken in vain;
He never revisited Ara again!
Night fell on the deep, amidst tempest and spray,
And he died on the waters, away, far away!


296 Mystery Tales
zeal of Don Fernando de Ulmo, a young cavalier of high
standing in the Portuguese court, and of most sanguine
and romantic temperament. He had recently come to his
estate, and had run the round of all kinds of pleasures and
excitements when this new theme of popular talk and
wonder presented itself. The Island of the Seven Cities
became now the constant subject of his thoughts by day
and his dreams by night; it even rivaled his passi0n for a
beautiful girl, one of the greatest belles of Lisbon, to whom
he was betrothed. At length his imagination became so
inflamed on the subject, that he determined to fit out an
expedition, at his own expense, and set sail in quest of
this sainted island. It could not be a cruise of any great
extent; for, according to the calculations of the tempest-
tossed pilot, it must be somewhere in the latitude of the
Canaries; which at that time, when the new world was as
yet undiscovered, formed the frontier of ocean enterprise.
Don Fernando applied to the crown for countenance and
protection. As he was a favorite at court, the usual patron-
age was readily extended to him; that is to say, he re-
ceived a commission from the king, Don Ioam II., con-
stituting him Adalantado, or military governor, of any
country he might discover, with the single proviso, that
he should bear all the expenses of the discovery, and pay
a tenth of the profits to the crown.
Don Fernando now set to work in the true spirit of a
projector. He sold acre after acre of solid land, and in-
vested the proceeds in ships, guns, ammunition, and sea-
stores. Even his old family mansion in Listn was mort-
gaged without scruple, for he looked forward to a palace
in one of the Seven Cities, of which he was to be Adalan-


298 Mystery Tales
throw an obstacle in the way of the expedition of Don
Fernando, and for a time perplexed him in the extreme.
He was passionately attached to the young lady; but he
was also passionately bent on this romantic enterprise.
How should he reconcile the two passionate inclinations?
A simple and obvious arrangement at length presented
itself,-— marry Serafina, enjoy a portion of the honeymoon
at once, and defer the rest until his return from the dis-
covery of the Seven Cities!
He hastened to make known this most excellent ar-
rangement to Don Ramiro, when the long-smothered wrath
of the old cavalier burst forth. He reproached him with
being the dupe of wandering vagabonds and wild schemers,
and with squandering all his real possessions, in pursuit
of empty bubbles. Don Fernando was too sanguine a
projector, and too young a man, to listen tamely to such
language. A high quarrel ensued; Don Ramiro pro-
nounced him a madman, and forbade all farther inter—
course with his daughter until he should give proof of
returning sanity by abandoning this madcap enterprise;
while Don Fernando flung out of the house, more bent
than ever on the expedition, from the idea of triumphing
over the incredulity 0f the graybeard, when he should re—
turn successful. Don Ramiro’s heart misgave him. Who
knows, thought he, but this crack-brained visionary may
persuade my daughter to elope with him, and share his
throne in this unknown paradise of fools? If I could
only keep her safe until his ships are fairly out at sea!
He repaired to her apartment, represented to her the
sanguine, unsteady character of her lover and the chi-
merical value of his schemes, and urged the propriety of


The Adalantado of the Seven Cities 299 I '
suspending all intercourse with him until he should re-
cover from his present hallucination. She bowed her head
as if in filial acquiescence, whereupon he folded her to
his bosom with parental fondness and kissed away a tear
that was stealing over her check, but as he left the chamber
quietly turned the key in the lock; for though he was a
fond father and had a high opinion of the submissive tern;
per of his child, he had a still higher opinion of the con-
servative virtues of lock and key, and determined to trust
to them until the caravels should sail. Whether the dam-
sel had been in anywise shaken in her faith as to the
schemes of her lover by her father’s eloquence, tradition
does not say; but certain it is, that, the moment she heard
the key turn in the lock, she became a firm believer in the
Island of the Seven Cities.
The door was locked; but her will was unconfined. A
window of the chamber opened into one of those stone
balconies, secured by iron bars, which project like huge
cages from Portuguese and Spanish houses. Within this
balcony the beautiful Serafina had her birds and flowers,
and here she was accustomed to sit on moonlight nights
as in a bower, and touch her guitar and sing like a wakeful
nightingale. From this balcony an intercourse was now
maintained between the lovers, against which the lock and
key of Don Ramiro were of no avail. All day would
Fernando be occupied hurrying the equipments of his
ships, but evening found him in sweet discourse beneath
his lady’s window.
At length the preparations were completed. Two gal-
lant caravels lay at anchor in the Tagus ready to sail at
sunrise. Late at night by the pale light of a waning moon


The Adalantado of the Seven Cities 301
nando know her heart. The more her father should op-
pose, the more would she be fixed in faith. Though years
should intervene, Fernando on his return would find her
true. Even should the salt sea swallow him up, never
would she be the wife of another! Never, never,
NEVER! She drew from her finger a ring gemmed with a
ruby heart, and dropped it from the balcony, a parting
pledge of constancy.
With the morning dawn the caravels dropped down the
Tagus, and put to sea. They steered for the Canaries,
in those days the regions of nautical discovery and ro-
mance, and the outposts of the known world, for as yet
Columbus had not steered his daring barks across the
ocean. Scarce had they reached those latitudes when
they were separated by a violent tempest. For many
days was the caravel of Don Fernando driven about at
the mercy of the elements; all seamanship was baflled, de-
struction seemed inevitable and the crew were in despair.
All at once the storm subsided; the ocean sank into a
calm; the clouds which had veiled the face of heaven were
suddenly withdrawn, and the tempest-tossed mariners be-
held a fair and mountainous island, emerging as if by
enchantment from the murky gloom. They rubbed their
eyes and gazed for a time almost incredulously, yet there a
lay the island spread out in lovely landscapes, with the
late stormy sea laving its shores with peaceful billows.
The pilot of the caravel consulted his maps and charts;
no island like the one before him was laid down as exist-
ing in those parts; it is true he had lost his reckoning in
the late storm, but, according to his calculations, he could
not be far from the Canaries; and this was not one of


302 Mystery Tales
that group of islands. The caravel now lay perfectly
becalmed off the mouth of a river, on the banks of which,
about a league from the sea, was descried a noble city,
with lofty walls and towers, and a protecting castle.
After a time, a stately barge with sixteen oars was seen
emerging from the river, and approaching the caravel.
It was quaintly carved and gilt; the oarsmen were clad
in antique garb, their oars painted of a bright crimson,
and they came slowly and solemnly, keeping time as they
rowed to the cadence of an old Spanish ditty. Under a
silken canopy in the stern, sat a cavalier richly clad, and
over his head was a banner bearing the sacred emblem of
the cross.
When the barge reached the caravel, the cavalier stepped
on board. He was tall and gaunt; with a long Spanish
visage, moustaches that curled up to his eyes, and a forked
beard. He wore gauntlets reaching to his elbows, a To-
ledo blade strutting out behind, with a basket hilt, in which
he carried his handkerchief. His air was lofty and pre-
cise, and bespoke indisputably the hidalgo. Thrusting
out a long spindle leg, he took off a huge sombrero, and
swaying it until the feather swept the ground, accosted
Don Fernando in the old Castilian language, and with the
old Castilian courtesy, welcoming him to the Island of the
Seven Cities.
Don Fernando was overwhelmed with astonishment.
Could this be true? Had he really been tempest-driven
to the very land of which he was in quest?
It was even so. That very day the inhabitants were
holding high festival in commemoration of the escape of


304 Mystery Tales
plied their oars, and renewed the mournful old ditty, and
the gorgeous but unwieldy barge moved slowly through the
water.
The night closed in before they entered the river, and
swept along past rock and promontory, each guarded by
its tower. At every post they were challenged by the
sentinel.
“ Who goes there? ”
“ The Adalantado of the Seven Cities.”
“ Welcome, Senor Adalantado. Pass on.”
Entering the harbor they rowed close by an armed gal-
ley of ancient form. Soldiers with crossbows patroled the
deck.
“ Who goes there?”
“ The Adalantado of the Seven Cities.”
“Welcome, Sefior Adalantado. Pass on.”
They landed at a broad flight of stone steps, leading
up between two massive towers, and knocked at the water-
gate. A sentinel, in ancient steel casque, looked from
the barbican.
“ Who is there? ”
“ The Adalantado of the Seven Cities.”
“Welcome, Seiior Adalantado.”
The gate swung open, grating upon rusty hinges. They
entered between two rows of warriors in Gothic armor,
with crossbows, maces, battle-axes, and faces old-fash-
ioned as their armor. There were processions through
the streets, in commemoration of the landing of the seven
bishops and their followers, and bonfires at which effigies
of Moors expiated their invasion of Christendom by a kind
of auto-da-fé. The groups round the fires, uncouth in


The Adalantado of the Seven Cities 305
their attire, looked like the fantastic figures that roam the
streets in carnival time. Even the dames who gazed
down from Gothic balconies hung with antique tapestry,
resembled efiigies dressed up in Christmas mummeries.
Everything, in short, bore the stamp of former ages, as if
the world had suddenly rolled back for several centuries.
Nor was this to be wondered at. Had not the Island of
the Seven Cities been cut off from the rest of the world
for several hundred years; and were not these the modes
and customs of Gothic Spain before it was conquered by
the Moors?
Arrived at the palace of the alcayde, the grand cham-
berlain knocked at the portal. The porter looked through
a wicket, and demanded who was there.
“ The Adalantado of the Seven Cities.”
The portal was thrown wide open. The grand cham-
berlain led the way up a vast, heavily moulded, marble
staircase, and into a hall of ceremony, where was the
alcayde with several of the principal dignitaries of the
city, who had a marvelous resemblance, in form and fea-
ture, to the quaint figures in old illuminated manuscripts.
The grand chamberlain stepped forward and announced
the name and title of the stranger guest, and the extraor—
dinary nature of his mission. The announcement ap-
peared to create no extraordinary emotion or surprise, but
to be received as the anticipated fulfilment of a prophecy.
The reception of Don Fernando, however, was pro-
foundly gracious, though in the same style of stately cour-
tesy which everywhere prevailed. He would have pro-
duced his credentials, but this was courteously declined.
The evening was devoted to high festivity; the following


306 Mystery Tales
day, when he should enter the port with his caravel, would
be devoted to business, when the credentials would be re-
ceived in due form, and he inducted into office as Ada-
lantado of the Seven Cities.
Don Fernando was now conducted through one of those
interminable suites of apartments, the pride of Spanish
palaces, all furnished in a style of obsolete magnificence.
In a vast saloon, blazing with tapers, was assembled all
the aristocracy and fashion of the city,— stately dames
and cavaliers, the very counterpart of the figures in the
tapestry which decorated the walls. Fernando gazed in
silent marvel. It was a reflex of the proud aristocracy
of Spain in the time of Roderick the Goth.
The festivities of the evening were all in the style of
solemn and antiquated ceremonial. There was a dance,
but it was as if the old tapestry were put in motion, and
all the figures moving in stately measure about the floor.
There was one exception, and one that told powerfully
upon the susceptible Adalantado. The alcayde’s daugh-
ter— such a ripe, melting beauty! Her dress, it is true,
like the dresses of her neighbors, might have been worn
before the flood, but she had the black Andalusian eye,
a glance of which, through its long dark lashes, is irre-
sistible. Her voice, too, her manner, her undulating move-
ments, all smacked of Andalusia, and showed how female
charms may be transmitted from age to age, and clime t0
clime, without ever going out of fashion.
Don Fernando sat beside her at the banquet! such an
old-world feast! such obsolete dainties! At the head of
the table the peacock, that bird of state and ceremony, was
served up in full plumage on a golden dish. As Don


308 Mystery Tales
was no parrying this sudden appeal; before he had time
to reflect, the ring of the beautiful Serafina glittered on
the finger of the alcayde’s daughter. _
At this eventful moment the chamberlain approached
with lofty demeanor, and announced that the barge was
waiting to bear him back to the caravel. I forbear to
relate the ceremonious partings with the alcayde and his
dignitaries, and the tender farewell of the alcayde’s daugh—
ter. He took his seat in the barge opposite the grand
chamberlain. The rowers plied their crimson oars in the
same slow and stately manner, to the cadence of the same
mournful old ditty. His brain was in a whirl with all
that he had seen, and his heart now and then gave him a
twinge as he thought of his temporary infidelity to the
beautiful Serafina. The barge sallied out into the sea,
but no caravel was to be seen; doubtless she had been
carried to a distance by the current of the river. The
oarsmen rowed on; their monotonous chant had a lulling
effect. A drowsy influence crept over Don Fernando.
Objects swam before his eyes. The oarsmen assumed odd
shapes as in a dream. The grand chamberlain grew
larger and larger, and taller and taller. He took off his
huge sombrero, and held it over the head of Don Fernando,
like an extinguisher over a candle. The latter cowered
beneath it; he felt himself sinking in the socket.
“ Good night! Sefior Adalantado of the Seven Cities! ”
said the grand chamberlain.
The sombrero slowly descended—Don Fernando was
extinguished !
How long he remained extinct no mortal man can tell.
When he returned to consciousness, he found himself in


312 Mystery Tales
put the matter beyond dispute, however, the archives of
the Torre do Tombo, that sepulchre of old Portuguese
documents, were diligently searched, and a record was
found of a contract between the crown and one Fernando
de Ulmo, for the discovery of the Island of the Seven
Cities, and of a commission secured to him as Adalantado
of the country he might discover.
“ There!” cried Don Fernando, triumphantly, “there
you have proof, before your own eyes, of what I have said.
I am the Fernando de Ulmo specified in that record. I
have discovered the Island of the Seven Cities, and am
entitled to be Adalantado, according to contract.”
The story of Don Fernando had certainly, what is pro-
nounced the best of historical foundation, documentary
evidence; but when a man, in the bloom of youth, talked
of events that had taken place above a century previously,
as having happened to himself, it is no wonder that he
was set down for a madman.
The old clerk looked at him from above and below his
spectacles, shrugged his shoulders, stroked his chin, re-
ascended his lofty stool, took the pen from behind his ears,
and resumed his daily and eternal task, copying records
into the fiftieth volume of a series of gigantic folios. The
other clerks winked at each other shrewdly, and dispersed
to their several places, and poor Don Fernando, thus left
to himself, flung out of the oflice, almost driven wild by
these repeated perplexities.
In the confusion of his mind, he instinctively repaired
to the mansion of Alvarez, but it was barred against him.
To break the delusion under which the youth apparently
labored, and to convince him that the Serafina about whom


The Adalantado of the Seven Cities 313
he raved was really dead, he was conducted to her tomb.
There she lay, a stately matron, cut out in alabaster; and
there lay her husband beside her, a portly cavalier, in
armor; and there knelt on each side, the efligies of a
numerous progeny. Even the very monument gave evi-
dence of the lapse of time; the hands of her husband,
folded as if in prayer, had lost their fingers, and the face
of the once lovely Serafina was without a nose.
Don Fernando felt a transient glow of indignation at
beholding this monumental proof of the inconstancy of
his mistress; but who could expect a mistress to remain
constant during a whole century of absence? And what
right had he to rail about constancy, after what had passed
between himself and the alcayde’s daughter? The unfor-
tunate cavalier performed one pious act of tender devo-
tion; he had the alabaster nose of Serafina restored by a
skillful statuary, and then tore himself from the tomb.
He could now no longer doubt the fact that, somehow
or other, he had skipped over a whole century, during the
night he had spent at the Island of the Seven Cities; and
he was now as complete a stranger in his native city, as
if he had never been there. A thousand times did he
wish himself back to that wonderful island, with its an-
tiquated banquet halls, where he had been so courteously
received; and now that the once young and beautiful Sera-
fina was nothing but a great-grandmother in marble, with
generations of descendants, a thousand times would he
recall the melting black eyes of the alcayde’s daughter, who
doubtless, like himself, was still flourishing in fresh ju-
venility, and breathe a secret wish that he was seated by
her side.


314 Mystery Tales
He would at once have set on foot another expedition,
at his own expense, to cruise in search of the sainted
island, but his means were exhausted. He endeavored to
rouse others to the enterprise, setting forth the certainty
of profitable results, of which his own experience fur-
nished such unquestionable proof. Alas! no one would
give faith to his tale; but looked upon it as the feverish
dream of a shipwrecked man. He persisted in his efforts;
holding forth in all places and all companies, until he
became an object of jest and jeer to the light-minded, who
mistook his earnest enthusiasm for a proof of insanity;
and the very children in the streets bantered him with the
title of “The Adalantado of the Seven Cities.”
Finding all efforts in vain, in his native city of Lisbon,
he took shipping for the Canaries, as being nearer the
latitude of his former cruise, and inhabited by people
given to nautical adventure. Here he found ready listen-
ers to his story; for the old pilots and mariners of those
parts were notorious island-hunters, and devout believers
in all the wonders of the seas. Indeed, one and all treated
his adventure as a common occurrence, and turning to each
other, with a sagacious nod of the head, observed, “ He has
been at the island of St. Brandan.”
They then went on to inform him of that great marvel
and enigma of the ocean; of its repeated appearance to the
inhabitants of their islands; and of the many but inef-
fectual expeditions that had been made in search of it.
They took him to a promontory of the island of Palma,
whence the shadowy St. Brandan had oftenest been de-
scried, and they pointed out the very tract in the west
where its mountains had been seen.


The Adalantado of the Seven Cities 315
Don Fernando listened with rapt attention. He had
no longer a doubt that this mysterious and fugacious island
must be the same with that of the Seven Cities; and that
some supernatural influence connected with it had oper-
ated upon himself, and made the events of a night occupy
the space of a century.
He endeavored, but in vain, to rouse the islanders to
another attempt at discovery; they had given up the phan-
tom island as indeed inaccessible. Fernando, however,
was not to be discouraged. The idea wore itself deeper
and deeper in his mind, until it became the engrossing
subject of his thoughts and object of his being. Every
morning he would repair to the promontory of Palma,
and sit there throughout the livelong day, in hopes of
seeing the fairy mountains of St. Brendan peering above
the horizon; every evening he returned to his home, a dis—
appointed man, but ready to resume his post on the fol-
lowing morning. I
His assiduity was all in vain. He grew gray in his in-
effectual attempt; and was at length found dead at his
post. His grave is still shown in the island of Palma,
and a cross is erected on the spot where he used to sit and
look out upon the sea, in hopes of the reappearance of the
phantom island.







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ll.‘ ’



THE ABBOT OF INISFALEN
WILLIAM ALLINGHAM
I
THE Abbot of Inisfalen
Awoke ere dawn of day;
Under the dewy green leaves
Went he forth to pray.
The lake around his island
Lay smooth and dark and deep,
316


The Abbot of Inisfalen 317
And, wrapt in a misty stillness,
The mountains were all asleep.
Low kneel’d the Abbot Cormac,
When the dawn was dim and gray;
The prayers of his holy office
He faithfully ’gan say.
Low kneel’d the Abbot Cormac,
When the dawn was waxing red,
And for his sins’ forgiveness
A solemn prayer he said.
Low kneel’d that holy Abbot
When the dawn was waxing clear;
And he pray’d with loving-kindness
For his convent brethren dear.
Low kneel’d that blessed Abbot,
When the dawn was waxing bright;
He pray’d a great prayer for Ireland,
He pray’d with all his might.
Low kneel’d that good old father,
While the sun began to dart;
He pray’d a prayer for all mankind,
He pray’d it from his heart.
II
The Abbot of Inisfalen
Arose upon his feet;


320
Mystery Tales
And they gave him absolution
As speedily as might be.
Then, close outside the window,
The sweetest song they heard
That ever yet since the world began
Was uttered by any bird.
The monks looked out and saw the bird,
Its feathers all white and clean;
And there in a moment, beside it,
Another white bird was seen.
Those two they sung together,
Waved their white wings, and fled;
Flew aloft, and vanished;
But the good old man was dead.
They buried his blessed body
Where lake and greensward meet;
A carven cross above his head,
A holly-bush at his feet;
Where spreads the beautiful water
To gay or cloudy skies,
And the purple peaks of Killarney
From ancient woods arise.


THE MYSTERIOUS CHAMPION OF HADLEY
SIR WALTER SCOTT
AMONGST my wanderings, the Transatlantic settlements
have not escaped me; more especially the country of New
England, into which our native land has shaken from her
lap, as a drunkard fiings from him his treasures, so much
that is precious in the eyes of God and of His children.
There thousands of our best and most godly men—such
whose righteousness might come between the Almighty and
His wrath, and prevent the ruin of cities -— are content to
be the inhabitants of the desert, rather encountering the un-
enlightened savages than stooping to extinguish, under the
oppression practiced in Britain, the light that is within
their own minds.
There I remained for a time, during the wars which
the colony maintained with Philip, a great Indian chief,
or sachem, as they were called, who seemed a messenger
sent from Satan to buffet them. His cruelty was great ——
his dissimulation profound; and the skill and promptitude
with which he maintained a destructive and desultory war-
fare inflicted many dreadful calamities on the settlement.
I was, by chance, at a small village in the woods, more
than thirty miles from Boston, and in its situation exceed-
ingly lonely, and surrounded with thickets. Neverthe-
less, there was no idea of any danger from the Indians at
that time, for men trusted to the protection of a consider-
321


322 Mystery Tales
able body of troops who had taken the field for protection
of the frontiers, and who lay, or were supposed to lie,
betwixt the hamlet and the enemy’s country.
But they had to do with a foe whom the devil himself
had inspired at once with cunning and cruelty. It was
on a Sabbath morning, when we had assembled to take
sweet counsel together in the Lord’s house. Our temple
was but constructed of wooden logs; but when shall the
chant of trained hirelings, or the sounding of tin and
brass tubes amid the aisles of a minster, arise so sweetly
to Heaven as did the psalm in which we united at once
our voices and our hearts! An excellent worthy, who
now sleeps in the Lord, Nehemiah Solsgrace, long the com-
panion of my pilgrimage, had just begun to wrestle in
prayer, when a woman, with disordered looks and dishev-
eled hair, entered our chapel in a distracted manner,
screaming incessantly, “ The Indians! The Indians!”
In that land no man dares separate himself from his
means of defense, and whether in the city or in the field, in
the plowed land or the forest, men keep beside them their
weapons, as did the Jews at the rebuilding of the Temple.
So we sallied forth with our guns and pikes, and heard
the whoop of these incarnate devils, already in possession
of a part of the town, and exercising their cruelty on the
few whom weighty causes or indisposition had withheld
from public worship; and it was remarked as a judgment
that, upon that bloody Sabbath, Adrian Hanson, a Dutch-
man, a man well enough disposed towards man, but whose
mind was altogether given to worldly gain, was shot and
scalped as he was summing his weekly gains in his ware-
house.


The Mysterious Champion of Hadley 323
In fine, there was much damage done; and although
our arrival and entrance into combat did in some sort put
them back, yet being surprised and confused, and having
no appointed leader of our band, the devilish enemy shot
hard at us, and had some advantage. It was pitiful to
hear the screams of women and children amid the report
of guns and the whistling of bullets, mixed with the fero—
cious yells of these savages, which they term their war-
whoop.
Several houses in the upper part of the village were soon
on fire; and the roaring of the flames, and crackling of the
great beams as they blazed, added to the horrible confu-
sion; while the smoke which the wind drove against us
gave farther advantage to the enemy, who fought, as it
were, invisible, and under cover, whilst we fell fast by
their unerring fire.
In this state of confusion, and while we were about
to adopt the desperate project of evacuating the village,
and, placing the women and children in the centre,
of attempting a retreat to the nearest settlement, it pleased
Heaven to send us unexpected assistance. 'A tall man of
a reverend appearance, whom no one of us had ever seen
before, suddenly was in the midst of us, as we hastily agi-
tated the resolution of retreating. His garments were of
the skin of the elk, and he wore sword and carried gun;
I never saw anything more august than his features, over-
shadowed by locks of gray hair, which mingled with a
long beard of the same color.
“ Men and brethren,” he said, in a voice like that which
turns back the flight, “why sink your hearts? and why
are you thus disquieted? Fear ye that the God we serve


324 M ystery Tales
will give you up to yonder heathen dogs? Follow me,
and you shall see this day that there is a captain in
Israel!”
He uttered a few brief but distinct orders, in the tone
of one who was accustomed to command; and such was
the influence of his appearance, his mien, his language,
and his presence of mind, that he was implicitly obeyed
by men who had never seen him until that moment. We
were hastily divided, by his orders, into two bodies; one
of which maintained the defense of the village with more
courage than ever, convinced that the Unknown was sent
by God to our rescue. At his command they assumed
the best and most sheltered positions for exchanging their
deadly fire with the Indians; while, under cover of the
smoke, the stranger sallied from the town, at the head
of the other division of the New England men, and, fetch-
ing a circuit, attacked the red warriors in the rear.
The surprise, as is usual amongst savages, had com-
plete efiect; for they doubted not that they were assailed
in their turn, and placed betwixt two hostile parties by
the return of a detachment from the provincial army.
The heathens fled in confusion, abandoning the half-won
village, and leaving behind them such a number of their
warriors that the tribe hath never recovered its loss.
Never shall I forget the figure of our venerable leader,
when our men, and not they only, but the women and
children of the village, rescued from the tomahawk and
scalping-knife, stood crowded around him, yet scarce ven-
turing to approach his person, and more minded, perhaps,
to worship him as a descended angel than to thank him as
a fellow-mortal.


The Mysterious Champion of Hadley 325
“Not unto me be the glory,” he said, “I am but an
implement, frail as yourselves, in the hand of Him who
is strong to deliver. Bring me a cup of water, that I
may allay my parched throat, ere I essay the task of offer-
ing thanks where they are most due.”
I was nearest to him as he spoke, and I gave into his
hand the water he requested. At that moment we ex-
changed glances, and it seemed to me that I recognized a
noble friend whom I had long since deemed in glory; but
he gave me no time to speak, had speech been prudent.
Sinking on his knees and signing us to obey him, he
poured forth a strong and energetic thanksgiving for the
turning back of the battle, which, pronounced with a voice
loud and clear as a war-trumpet, thrilled through the
joints and marrow of the hearers. I have heard many
an act of devotion in my life, had Heaven vouchsafed me
grace to profit by them; but such a prayer as this, ut-
tered amid the dead and the dying, with a rich tone of
mingled triumph and adoration, was beyond them all:
it was like the song of the inspired prophetess who dwelt
beneath the palm-tree between Ramah and Bethel.
He was silent; and for a brief space we remained with
our faces bent to the earth, no man daring to lift his head.
At length we looked up, but our deliverer was no longer
amongst us; nor was he ever again seen in the land which
he had rescued.


THE GRAY CHAMPION
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE
THERE was once a time when New England groaned
under the actual pressure of heavier wrongs than those
threatened ones which brought on the Revolution. James
II., the bigoted successor of Charles the Voluptuous, had
annulled the charters of all the colonies, and sent a harsh
and unprincipled soldier to take away our liberties and en-
danger our religion. The administration of Sir Edmund
Andros lacked scarcely a single characteristic of tyranny:
a Governor and Council, holding Office from the King,
and wholly independent of the country; laws made and
taxes levied without concurrence of the people immedi-
ate or by their representatives; the rights of private citi-
zens violated, and the titles of all landed property declared
void; the voice of complaint stifled by restrictions on
the press; and, finally, disafi'ection overawed by the first
band of mercenary troops that ever marched on our free
soil. For two years our ancestors were kept in sullen
submission by that filial love which had invariably se-
cured their allegiance to the mother country, whether its
head chanced to be a Parliament, Protector, or Popish
Monarch. Till these evil times, however, such allegiance
had been merely nominal, and the colonists had ruled them—
selves, enjoying far more freedom than is even yet the
privilege of the native subjects of Great Britain.
326


The Gray Champion 327
At length a rumor reached our shores that the Prince
of Orange had ventured on an enterprise, the success of
which would be the triumph of civil and religious rights
and the salvation of New England. It was but a doubt—
ful whisper; it might be false, or the attempt might fail;
and, in either case, the man that stirred against King
James would lose his head. Still the intelligence pro—
duced a marked effect. The people smiled mysteriously
in the streets, and threw bold glances at their oppressors;
while far and wide there was a subdued and silent agita-
tion, as if the slightest signal would rouse the whole land
from its sluggish despondency. Aware of their danger,
the rulers resolved to avert it by an imposing display of
strength, and perhaps to confirm their despotism by yet
harsher measures.' One afternoon in April, 1689, Sir
Edmund Andros and his favorite councilors, being warm
with wine, assembled the red—coats of the Governor’s
Guard, and made their appearance in the streets of Bos-
ton. The sun was near setting when the march com-
menced.
The roll of the drum at that unquiet crisis seemed to
go through the streets, less as the martial music of the
soldiers, than as a muster-call to the inhabitants them-
selves. A multitude, by various avenues, assembled in
King Street, which was destined to be the scene, nearly
a century afterwards, of another encounter between the
troops of Britain, and a people struggling against her
tyranny. Though more than sixty years had elapsed since
the pilgrims came, this crowd of their descendants still
showed the strong and sombre features of their character
perhaps more strikingly in such a stern emergency than


330 Mystery Tales
roll of the drum had been approaching through Cornhill,
louder and deeper, till with reverberations from house
to house, and the regular tramp of martial footsteps, it
burst into the street. A double rank of soldiers made
their appearance, occupying the whole breadth of the
passage, with shouldered matchlocks, and matches burn-
ing, so as to present a row of fires in the dusk. Their
steady march was like the progress of a machine, that
would roll irresistibly over everything in its way. Next,
moving slowly, with a confused clatter of hoofs on the
pavement, rode a party of mounted gentlemen, the central
figure being Sir Edmund Andros, elderly, but erect and
soldier-like. Those around him were his favorite coun-
cilors, and the bitterest foes of New England. At his
right hand rode Edward Randolph, our arch-enemy, that
“blasted wretch,” as Cotton Mather calls him, who
achieved the downfall of our ancient government, and was
followed with a sensible curse, through life and to his
grave. On the other side was Bullivant, scattering jests
and mockery as he rode along. Dudley came behind, with
a downcast look, dreading, as well he might, to meet the
indignant gaze of the people, who beheld him, their only
countryman by birth, among the oppressors of his native
land. The captain of a frigate in the harbor, and two
or three civil officers under the Crown, were also there.
But the figure which most attracted the public eye, and
stirred up the deepest feeling, was the Episcopal clergy—
man of King’s Chapel, riding haughtily among the magis-
trates in his priestly vestments, the fitting representative
of prelacy and persecution, the union of church and state,
and all those abominations which had driven the Puritans


The Gray Champion 333
seemed to fall from his shoulders, leaving him in gray
but unbroken dignity. Now, he marched onward with a
warrior’s step, keeping time to the military music. Thus
the aged form advanced on one side, and the whole parade
of soldiers and magistrates 0n the other, till, when scarcely
twenty yards remained between, the old man grasped his
staff by the middle, and held it before him like a leader’s
truncheon.
“ Stand! ” cried he.
The eye, the face, and attitude of command; the solemn,
yet warlike peal of that voice, fit either to rule a host in
the battle-field or be raised to God in prayer, were irre-
sistible. At the old man’s word and outstretched arm,
the roll of the drum was hushed at once, and the advanc-
ing line stood still. A tremulous enthusiasm seized upon
the multitude. That stately form, combining the leader
and the saint, so gray, so dimly seen, in such an ancient
garb, could only belong to some old champion of the
righteous cause, whom the oppressor’s drum had sum—
moned from his grave. They raised a shout of awe and
exultation, and looked for the deliverance of New Eng-
land.
The Governor, and the gentlemen of his party, per-
ceiving themselves brought to an unexpected stand, rode
hastily forward, as if they would have pressed their snort-
ing and affrighted horses right against the hoary appari-
tion. He, however, blenched not a step, but glancing
his severe eye round the group, which half encompassed
him, at last bent it sternly on Sir Edmund Andros. One
would have thought that the dark old man was chief ruler


The Gray Champion 335
cents long disused, like one unaccustomed to converse,
except with the dead of many years ago. But his voice
stirred their souls. They confronted the soldiers, not
wholly without arms, and ready to convert the very stones
of the street into deadly weapons. Sir Edmund Andros
looked at the old man; then he cast his hard and cruel eye
over the multitude, and beheld them burning with that
lurid wrath, so difficult to kindle or to quench; and again
he fixed his gaze on the aged form, which stood obscurely
in an open space, where neither friend nor foe had thrust
himself. What were his thoughts, he uttered no word
which might discover. But whether the oppressor were
overawed by the Gray Champion’s look, or perceived his
peril in the threatening attitude of the people, it is certain
that he gave back, and ordered his soldiers to commence
a slow and guarded retreat. Before another sunset, the
Governor, and all that rode so proudly with him, were
prisoners, and long ere it was known that James had
abdicated, King William was proclaimed throughout New
England.
But where was the Gray Champion? Some reported
that, when the troops had gone from King Street, and the
people were thronging tumultuously in their rear, Brad-
street, the aged Governor, was seen to embrace a form
more aged than his own. Others soberly affirmed, that
while they marveled at the venerable grandeur of his as-
pect, the old man had faded from their eyes, melting
slowly into the hues of twilight, till, where he stood, there
was an empty space. But all agreed that the hoary shape
was gone. The men of that generation watched for his
reappearance, in sunshine and in twilight, but never saw


336 Mystery Tales
him more, nor knew when his funeral passed, nor where
his gravestone was.
And who was the Gray Champion? Perhaps his name
might be found in the records of that stem Court of Jus-
tice, which passed a sentence, too mighty for the age, but
glorious in all after-times, for its humbling lesson to the
monarch and its high example to the subject. I have
heard, that whenever the descendants of the Puritans are
to show the spirit of their sires, the old man appears again.
When eighty years had passed, he walked once more in
King Street. Five years later, in the twilight of an April
morning, he stood on the green, beside the meeting-house,
at Lexington, where now the obelisk of granite, with a
slab of slate inlaid, commemorates the first fallen of the
Revolution. And when our fathers were toiling at the
breastwork on Bunker’s Hill, all through that night the
old warrior walked his rounds. Long, long may it be, ere
he comes again! His hour is one of darkness, and ad-
versity, and peril. But should domestic tyranny oppress
us, or the invader’s step pollute our soil, still may the
Gray Champion come, for he is the type of New Eng-
land’s hereditary spirit; and his shadowy march, on the
eve of danger, must ever be the pledge, that New England’s
sons will vindicate their ancestry.


THE ADMIRAL’S GHOST
ALFRED Novas
I TELL you a tale to-night
Which a seaman told to me,
With eyes that gleamed in the lanthorn light
And a voice as low as the sea.
You could almost hear the stars
Twinkling up in the sky,
And the old wind woke and moaned in the spars,
And the same old waves went by,
Singing the same old song
As ages and ages ago,
While he froze my blood in that deep-sea night
With the things that he seemed to know.
A bare foot pattered on deck;
Ropes creaked; then— all grew still,
And he pointed his finger straight in my face
And growled, as a sea-dog will.
“ Do ’ee know who Nelson was?
That pore little shrivelled form,
With the patch on his eye and the pinned-up sleeve
And a soul like a North Sea storm?
337


338 Mystery Tales
“ Ask of the Devonshire men!
They know, and they’ll tell you true;
He wasn’t the pore little chawed-up chap
That Hardy thought he knew.
“ He wasn’t the man you think!
His patch was a dern disguise!
For he knew that they’d find him out, d’you see,
If they looked him in both his eyes.
“ He was twice as big as he seemed;
But his clothes were cunningly made.
He’d both of his hairy arms all right!
The sleeve was a trick of the trade.
“ You’ve heard of sperrits, no doubt;
Well, there’s more in the matter than that!
But he wasn’t the patch and he wasn’t the sleeve,
And he wasn’t the laced cocked-hat.
“ Nelson was just -— a Ghost!
You may laugh! But the Devonshire men
They knew that he’d come when England called,
And they know that he’ll come again.
“I’ll tell you the way it was
(For none of the landsmen know),
And to tell it you right, you must go a-starn
Two hundred years or so.


The Admiral’s Ghost 339
“ The waves were lapping and slapping
The same as they are to-day ;
And Drake lay dying aboard his ship
In Nombre Dios Bay.
“ The scent of the foreign flowers
Came floating all around;
‘ But I’d give my soul for the smell 0’ the pitch,’
Says he, ‘in Plymouth Sound.
“ ‘What shall I do,’ he says,
‘ When the guns begin to roar,
An’ England wants me, and me not there
To shatter ’er foes once more i ’
“(You’ve heard what he said, maybe,
But I’ll mark you the p’ints again;
For I want you to box your compass right
And get my story plain.)
“ ‘ You must take my drum,’ he says,
‘ To the old sea-wall at home;
'And if ever you strike that drum,’ he says,
‘ Why, strike me blind, I’ll come!
“ ‘ If England needs me, dead
Or living, I’ll rise that day!
I’ll rise from the darkness under the sea
Ten thousand miles away.’
“ That’s what he said; and he died;
An’ his pirates, listenin’ roun’,


340 Mystery Tales
With their crimson doublets and j ewelled swords
That flashed as the sun went down,
“ They sewed him up in his shroud
With a round-shot top and toe,
To sink him under the salt sharp sea
Where all good seamen go.
“ They lowered him down in the deep,
And there in the sunset light
They boomed a broadside over his grave,
As meanin’ to say ‘ Good-night.’
“ They sailed away in the dark
To the dear little isle they knew;
And they hung his drum by the old sea-wall,
The same as he told them to.
“ Two hundred years went by,
And the guns began to roar,
And England was fighting hard for her life,
As ever she fought of yore.
“ ‘ It’s only my dead that count,’
She said, as she says to-day;
‘ It isn’t the ships and it isn’t the guns
’Ull sweep Trafalgar’s Bay.’
“ D’you guess who Nelson was?
You may laugh, but it’s true as true!


ASLAUGA’S KNIGHT
La MorTE-Fouqufi
MANY years ago there lived in the island of Fiihnen 'a
noble knight, called Froda, the friend of the Skalds, who
was so named because he not only offered free hospitality
in his fair castle to every renowned and noble bard, but
likewise strove with all his might to discover those an-
cient songs, and tales, and legends, which, in Runic writ-
ings or elsewhere, were still to be found; he had even
made some voyages to Iceland in search of them, and had
fought many a hard battle with the pirates of those seas,—
for he was also a right valiant knight, and he followed his
great ancestors not only in their love of song, but also in
their bold deeds of arms. Although he was still scarcely
beyond the prime of youth, yet all the other nobles in the
island willingly submitted themselves to him, whether in
council or in war; nay, his renown had even been carried
ere now over the sea to the neighboring land of Germany.
One bright autumn evening this honor-loving knight
sat before his castle, as he was often wont to do, that he
might look far and wide over land and sea, and that he
might invite any travelers who were passing by, as was
his custom, to share his noble hospitality. But on this
day he saw little of all that he was accustomed to look
upon; for on his knees there lay an ancient book with skill-
fully and richly painted characters, which a learned Ice-
342


344 Mystery Tales
Fair world, good night! Good day, sweet love!
Who seeks here in faith shall find above.”
“ Such purpose may come to good,” said a hollow voice
near the knight; and when he looked round, he saw the
form of a poor peasant-woman, so closely wrapped in a
gray mantle that he could not discern any part of her
countenance. She looked over his shoulder on the book,
and said, with a deep sigh, “ I know that story well; and
it fares no better with me than with the princess of whom
it tells.”
Froda looked at her with astonishment.
“Yes, yes,” pursued she, with strange becks and nods;
“ I am the descendant of the mighty Rolf, to whom the
fairest castles and forests and fields of this island once
belonged: your castle and your domains, Froda, amongst
others, were his. We are now cast down to poverty; and
because I am not so fair as Aslauga, there is no hope that
my possessions will be restored to me; and therefore I am
fain to veil my poor face from every eye.”
It seemed that she shed warm tears beneath her mantle.
At this Froda was greatly moved, and begged her, for
God’s sake, to let him know how he could help her, for
that he was a descendant of the famous northern heroes
of the olden time; and perhaps yet something more than
they — namely, a good Christian.
“ I almost think,” murmured she from beneath her cov-
ering, “ that you are that very Froda whom men call the
Good, and the friend of the Skalds, and of whose gener—
osity and mildness such wonderful stories are told. If it
be so, there may be help for me. You need only give up


346 Mystery Tales
again, that some goblin had risen before him with deceit-
ful tricks, mocking in spiteful wise the service which he
had vowed to his dead mistress. But henceforth,wherever
he roved, over valley or forest or heath, or whether he
sailed upon the waves of the sea, the like appearances met
him. Once he found a lute lying in a wood, and drove a
wolf away from it; and when sounds burst from the lute
without its being touched, a fair child rose up from it,
as, of old, Aslauga herself had done. At another time,
he would see goats clambering among the highest cliffs
by the sea-shore; and it was a golden form who tended
them. Then, again, a bright queen, resplendent in a daz-
zling bark, would seem to glide past him, and salute him
graciously ;— and if he strove to approach any of these,
he found nothing but cloud, and mist, and vapor. 'Of
all this many a lay might be sung. But so much he
learnt from them all,— that the fair Lady Aslauga ac-
cepted his service, and that he was now in deed and in
truth become her knight.
Meanwhile the winter had come and gone. In north-
ern lands this season never fails to bring to those who un-
derstand and love it many an image full of beauty and
meaning, with which a child of man might well be satis—
fied, so far as earthly happiness can satisfy, through all
his time on earth. But when the spring came glancing
forth with its opening buds and flowing waters, there came
also bright and sunny tidings from the land of Germany
to Fiihnen.
There stood on the rich banks of the Maine, where it


Aslauga’s Knight 347
pours its waters through the fertile land of Franconia, a
castle of almost royal magnificence, whose orphan-mistress
was a relation of the German emperor. She was named
Hildegardis; and was acknowledged far and wide as the
fairest of maidens. Therefore her imperial uncle wished
that she should wed none but the bravest knight who could
anywhere be met with. Accordingly he followed the ex-
ample of many a noble lord in such a case, and proclaimed
a tournament, at which the chief prize should be the hand
of the peerless Hildegardis, unless the victor already bore
in his heart a lady wedded or betrothed to him; for the
lists were not to be closed to any brave warrior of equal
birth, that the contest of strength and courage might be
so much the richer in competitors.
Now the renowned Freda had tidings of this from his
German brethren in arms; and he prepared himself to
appear at the festival. Before all things, he forged for
himself a splendid suit of armor; as, indeed, he was the
most excellent armorer of the North, far-famed as it is
for skill in that art. He worked the helmet out in pure
gold, and formed it so that it seemed to be covered with
bright flowing- locks, which called to mind Aslauga’s
tresses. He also fashioned on the breastplate of his armor,
overlaid with silver, a golden image in half relief, which
represented Aslauga in her veil of flowing locks, that he
might make known, even at the beginning of the tourna-
ment,—“ This knight, bearing the image of a lady upon
his breast, fights not for the hand of the beautiful Hilde-
gardis, but only for the joy of battle and for knightly
fame.”


348 Mystery Tales
Then he took out of his stables a beautiful Danish steed,
embarked it carefully on board a vessel, and sailed pros-
peroust to the opposite shore.
In one of those fair beech-woods, which abound in the
fertile land of Germany, he fell in with a young and
courteous knight of delicate form, who asked the noble
Northman to share the meal which he had invitingly
spread out upon the greensward, under the shade of the
pleasantest boughs. Whilst the two knights sat peace-
fully together at their repast, they felt drawn towards
each other; and rejoiced when, on rising from it, they
observed that they were about to follow the same road.
They had not come to this good understanding by means
of many words; for the young knight Edwald was of a
silent nature, and would sit for hours with a quiet smile
upon his lips without opening them to speak. But even
in that quiet smile there lay a gentle, winning grace; and
when, from time to time, a few simple words of deep
meaning sprang to his lips, they seemed like a gift de-
serving of thanks. It was the same with the little songs
which he sang ever and anon; they were ended almost as
soon as begun; but in each short couplet there dwelt a
deep and winning spirit, whether it called forth a kindly
sigh or a peaceful smile. It seemed to the noble Froda
as if a younger brother rode beside him, or even a tender,
blooming son.
They traveled thus many days together; and it ap-
peared as if their path were marked out for them in in-
separable union: and much as they rejoiced at this, yet
they looked sadly at each other whenever they set out


Aslaaga’s Knight 349
afresh, or where cross-roads met, on finding that neither
took a different direction ; nay, it seemed at times as if a
tear gathered in Edwald’s downcast eye.
It happened on a time, that at their hostelry they met
an arrogant, overbearing knight, of gigantic stature and
powerful frame, whose speech and carriage proved him to
be not of German but foreign birth. He appeared to
come from the land of Bohemia. He cast a contemptu-
ous smile on Froda, who, as usual, had opened the ancient
book of Aslauga’s history, and was attentively reading in
it. “ You must be a ghostly knight?” he said, inquir-
ingly; and it appeared as if a whole train of unseemly
jests were ready to follow. But Froda answered so firmly
and seriously with a negative, that the Bohemian stopped
short suddenly; as when the beasts, after having ventured
to mock their king the lion, are subdued to quietness by
one glance of his eye.
But not so easily was the Bohemian knight subdued;
rather the more did he begin to mock young Edwald for
his delicate form and for his silence — all which he bore
for some time with great patience; but when at last the
stranger used an unbecoming phrase, he arose, girded on
his sword, and bowing gracefully, he said, “ I thank you,
Sir Knight, that you have given me this opportunity of
proving that I am neither a slothful nor unpracticed
knight; for only thus can your behavior be excused, which
otherwise must be deemed most unmannerly. Are you
ready ? ”
With these words he moved towards the door; the Bo-I
hemian knight followed, smiling scornfully; while Froda
was full of care for his young and slender companion, al-


350 Mystery Tales
though his honor was so dear to him that he could in no
way interpose.
But it soon appeared how needless were the Northman’s
fears. .With equal vigor and address did Edwald assault
his gigantic adversary, so that to look upon, it was almost
like one of those combats between a knight and some mon-
ster of the forest, of which ancient legends tell. The issue
too was not unlike. While the Bohemian was collecting
himself for a decisive stroke, Edwald rushed in upon him,
and, with the force of a wrestler, cast him to the ground.
But he spared his conquered foe, helped him courteously
to rise, and then turned to mount his own steed. Soon
after he and Froda left the hostelry, and once more their
journey led them on the same path as before.
“ From henceforth this gives me pleasure,” said Froda,
pointing with satisfaction to their common road. “ I
must own to you, Edchen,”—— he had accustomed himself,
in loving confidence, to call his young friend by that child-
like name,—“ I must own to you, that hitherto, when I
have thought that you might perhaps be journeying with
me to the tournament held in honor of the fair Hilde-
gardis, a heaviness came over my heart. Your noble
knightly spirit I well knew, but I feared lest the strength
of your slender limbs might not be equal to it. Now I
have learned to know you as a warrior who may long seek
his match; and God be praised if we still hold on in the
same path, and welcome our earliest meeting in the lists! ”
But Edwald looked at him sorrowfully, and said,
“What can my skill and strength avail, if they be tried
against you, and for the greatest earthly prize, which one
of us alone can win? Alas! I have long foreboded with


Aslauga’s Knight 351
a heavy heart the sad truth, that you also are journeying
to the tournament of the fair Hildegardis.”
“ Edchen,” answered Froda, with a smile, “ my gentle,
loving youth, see you not that I already wear on my breast-
plate the image of a liege lady? I strive but for renown
in arms, and not for your fair Hildegardis.”
“ M y fair Hildegardisl ” answered Edwald, with a sigh.
“ That she is not, nor ever will be,—-— or should she, ah!
Froda, it would pierce your heart. I know well the North-
land faith is deep-rooted as your rocks, and hard to dis-
solve as their summits of snow; but let no man think that
he can look unscathed into the eyes of Hildegardis. Has
not she, the haughty, the too haughty maiden, so bevvitched
my tranquil, lowly mind, that I forget the gulf which lies
between us, and still pursue her; and would rather perish
than renounce the daring hope to win that eagle spirit for
my own ? ”
“ I will help you to it, Edchen,” answered Froda, smil-
ing still. “Would that I knew how this all-conquering
lady looks! She must resemble the Valkyrien of our
heathen forefathers, since so many mighty warriors are
overcome by her.”
Edwald solemnly drew forth a picture from beneath
his breastplate, and held it before him. Fixed, and as if
enchanted, Froda gazed upon it, with glowing cheeks and
sparkling eyes; the smile passed away from his coun-
tenance, as the sunlight fades away from the meadows
before the coming darkness of the storm.
“ See you not now, my noble comrade,” whispered Ed-
wald, “that for one of us two, or perhaps for both, the
joy of life is gone ? ”


Aslauga’s Knight 355
That deep abiding in my heart
Can ne’er depart,
Too lofty for my falt’ring tongue,
Must die with me, unknown, unsung.”
“Wherefore do you sing that song, and at this mo-
ment ? ” said Hildegardis, striving to appear scornful and
proud, though a deep and secret sadness was plainly
enough seen to overshadow her countenance.
“ It came into my head unawares,” replied the damsel,
“ as I looked upon the road by which the gentle Edwald
with his pleasant lays first approached us; for it was
from him I learnt it. But seems it not to you, my gra-
cious lady, and to you, too, my companions, as if Edwald
himself were again riding that way towards the castle?”
“ Dreamer! ” said Hildegardis scornfully,—— and yet
could not, for some space, withdraw her eyes from the
knight, till at length, with an effort, she turned them on
Froda, who rode beside him, saying, “ Yes, truly, that
knight is Edwald; but what can you find to notice in the
meek-spirited, silent boy? Here, fix your eyes, my maid-
ens, on this majestic figure, if you would behold a knight
indeed.” She was silent. A voice within her, as though
of prophecy, said, “ Now the victor of the tournament
rides into the court-yard ”; and she, who had never feared
the presence of any human being, now felt humbled, and
almost painfully awed, when she beheld the northern
knight.
At the evening meal the two newly arrived knights were
placed opposite to the royal Hildegardis. As Froda, after
the northern fashion, remained in full armor, the golden
image of Aslauga gleamed from his silver breastplate full


Aslauga’s Knight 357
“ There’s a gleam in the hall, and like morning’s light
Hath shone upon all her presence bright.
Suitors watch as she passes by—
She may gladden their hearts by one glance of her eye:
But coldly she gazeth upon the. throng,
And they that have sought her may seek her long.
She turns her away from the richly clad knight;
She heeds not the words of the learned Wight;
The prince is before her in all his pride,
But other the visions around her that glide.
Then tell me, in all the wide world’s space,
Who may e’er win that lady’s grace?
In sorrowful love there sits apart
The gentle squire who hath her heart;
They all are deceived by fancies vain,
And he knows it not who the prize shall gain.”
Edwald thrilled. “ As God wills,” said he softly to
himself. “ But I cannot understand how such a thing
could be.” “As God wills,” repeated Froda. The two
friends embraced each other, and soon after fell into a
peaceful slumber.
Some days afterwards, Froda sat in a secluded bower
of the castle garden, and was reading in the ancient book
of his lovely mistress Aslauga. It happened at that very
time that Hildegardis passed by. She stood still, and
said, thoughtfully, “ Strange union that you are of knight
and sage, how comes it that you bring forth so little out
of the deep treasure of your knowledge? And yet I think
you must have many a choice history at your command,
even such as that which now lies open before you; for I


362 Mystery Tales
his lady held him worthy to be so often reminded -of her.
And now the tournament began. At first the knights
strove with blunted swords and battle-axes; then they ran
their course with lances man to man; but at last they di-
vided into two equal parties, and a general assault began,
in which every one was allowed to use at his own will either
sword or lance. Froda and Edwald equally surpassed
their antagonists, as (measuring each his own strength
and that of his friend) they had foreseen. And now it
must be decided, by a single combat with lances, to whom
the highest prize of victory should belong. Before this
trial began, they rode slowly together into the middle of
the course, and consulted where each should take his place.
“ Keep you your guiding-star still before your sight,” said
Freda, with a smile; “ the like gracious help will not be
wanting to me.” Edwald looked round astonished for the
lady of whom his friend seemed to speak; but Froda went
on. “ I have done wrong in hiding aught from you; but
after the tournament you shall know all. Now lay aside all
needless thoughts of wonder, dear Edchen, and sit firm in
your saddle; for I warn you that I shall run this course
with all my might; not my honor alone is at stake, but
the far higher honor of my lady.”
“ So also do I purposelto demean myself,” said Edwald,
with a friendly smile. They shook each other by the hand,
and rode to their places.
Amidst the sound of trumpets they met again, running
their course with lightning speed; the lances shivered with
a crash, the horses staggered, the knights, firm in their
saddles, pulled them up, and rode back to their places.
But as they prepared for another course, Edwald’s white


Aslauga’s Knight 363
steed snorted in wild aifright, and Froda’s powerful chest-
nut reared up foaming.
It was plain that the two noble animals shrunk from a
second hard encounter; but their riders held them fast
with spur and bit, and, firm and obedient, they again
dashed forward at the second call of the trumpet. Ed-
wald, who by one deep, ardent gaze on the beauty of his
mistress had stamped it afresh on his soul, cried aloud
at the moment of encounter, “ Hildegardis! ” and so
mightin did his lance strike his valiant adversary, that
Froda sank backwards on his steed, with difficulty keeping
his seat in his saddle, or holding firm in his stirrups;
whilst Edwald flew by unshaken, lowered his spear to sa-
lute Hildegardis as he passed her bower, and then, amidst
the loud applause 0f the multitude, rushed to his place,
ready for the third course. And, ah! Hildegardis her-
self, overcome by surprise, had greeted him with a blush
and a look of kindness; it seemed to him as if the over-
whelming joy of victory were already gained. But it was
not so; for the valiant Froda, burning with noble shame,
had again tamed his aifrighted steed, and, chastising him
sharply with the spur for his share in this mischance, said
in a low voice, “ Beautiful and beloved lady, show thyself
to me,— the honor of thy name is at stake.”
To every other eye it seemed as if a golden, rosy-tinted
summer’s cloud was passing over the deep-blue sky; but
Froda beheld the heavenly countenance of his lady, felt
the waving of her golden tresses, and cried, “ Aslauga! ”
The two rushed together, and Edwald was hurled from his
saddle far upon the dusty plain.
Froda remained for a time motionless, according to the


364 Mystery Tales
laws of chivalry, as though waiting to see whether any
one would dispute his victory, and appearing on his mailed
steed like some lofty statue of brass. All around stood
the multitude in silent wonderment. When at length
they burst forth into shouts of triumph, he beckoned
earnestly with his hand, and all were again silent. He
then sprang lightly from his saddle, and hastened to the
spot where the fallen Edwald was striving to rise. He
pressed him closely to his breast, led his snow-white steed
towards him, and would not be denied holding the stir-
rups of the youth whilst he mounted. Then he bestrode
his own steed, and rode by Edwald’s side towards the
golden bower of Hildegardis, where with lowered spear and
open visor, he thus spoke:
“ Fairest of all living ladies, I bring you here Edwald,
your knightly bridegroom, before whose lance and sword
all the knights of this tournament have fallen away, I
only excepted, who can make no claim to the choicest
prize of victory, since I, as the image on my breastplate
may show, already serve another mistress.”
The duke was even now advancing towards the two
warriors, to lead them into the golden bower; but Hilde-
gardis restrained him with a look of displeasure, saying
immediately, while her cheeks glowed with anger, “ Then
you seem, Sir Froda, the Danish knight, to serve your
lady ill; for even now you openly styled me the fairest of
living ladies.”
“That did I,” answered Froda, bending courteously,
“ because my fair mistress belongs to the dead.”
A slight shudder passed at these words through the as—
sembly, and through the heart of Hildegardis; but soon


Aslauga’s Knight 367
ing to banish her melancholy, bade the tire-woman bring
the old stranger hither. Hildegardis forbade it not, hop—
ing that she should thus divert the attention of her maid-
ens, while she gave herself up more deeply and earnestly
to the varying imaginations which flitted through her
mind.
The messenger found the place already deserted, and
the strange old woman alone in the midst, laughing im-
moderately. When questioned by her, she did not deny
that she had all at once taken the form of a monstrous
owl, announcing to the spectators in a screeching voice,
that she was the Devil,—— and that every one upon this
rushed screaming home.
The tire-woman trembled at the fearful jest, but durst
not return to ask again the pleasure of Hildegardis, whose
discontented mood she had already remarked. She gave
strict charge to the old woman, with many a threat and
promise, to demean herself discreetly in the castle; after
which she brought her in by the most secret way, that
none of those whom she had terrified might see her enter.
The aged crone now stood before Hildegardis, and
winked to her, in the midst of her low and humble salu-
tation, in a strangely familiar manner, as though there
were some secret between them. The lady felt an involun-
tary shudder, and could not withdraw her gaze from the
features of that hideous countenance, hateful as it was
to her. The curiosity which had led the rest to desire
a sight of the strange woman was by no means gratified;
for she performed none but the most common tricks of
jugglery and related only well-known tales, so that the
tire-woman felt wearied and indifferent; and, ashamed of


Aslauga’s Knight 369
shoulders of the crone a bag of gold so heavy that she
sank half whimpering, half laughing on the ground; then
lifted the entranced Hildegardis on his steed, and gal-
loped with her silently into the ever-deepening gloom of
night.
“ All ye noble lords and knights, who yesterday con-
tended gallantly for the prize of victory and the hand of
the peerless Hildegardis, arise, arise! saddle your steeds,
and to the rescue! The peerless Hildegardis is carried
away! ”
Thus proclaimed many a herald through castle and
town, in the bright red dawn of the following day; and on
all sides rose the dust from the tread of knights and noble
squires along those roads by which so lately, in the evening
twilight, Hildegardis in proud repose had gazed on her
approaching suitors. v
Two of them, well known to us, remained inseparably
together; but they knew as little as the others whether
they had taken the right direction; for how and when the
adored lady could have disappeared from her apartments,
was still to the whole castle a fearful and mysterious secret.
Edwald and Froda rode as long as the sun moved over
their heads, unwearied as he; and now when he sank in
the waves of the river, they thought to win the race from
him, and still spurred on their jaded steeds. But the noble
animals staggered and panted, and the knights were con-
strained to grant them some little refreshment in a grassy
meadow. Secure of bringing them back at their first call,
their masters removed both bit and curb that they might
be refreshed with the green pasture and with the deep


370 Mystery Tales
blue waters of the Maine, while they themselves reposed
under the shade of a neighboring thicket of alders.
And deep in the cool dark shade, there shone, as it
were, a mild but clear, sparkling light, and checked the
speech of Froda, who at that moment was beginning to
tell his friend the tale of his knightly service to his sover-
eign lady, which had been delayed hitherto, first by Ed-
wald’s sadness, and then by the haste of their journey.
Ah, well did Froda know that lovely golden light. “ Let
us follow it, Edchen,” said he in a low tone, “ and leave
the horses awhile to their pasture.”
Edwald in silence followed his companion’s advice.
A secret Voice, half sweet, half fearful, seemed to tell
him that here was the path, the only right path to Hilde—
gardis. Once only he said in astonishment, “ Never be-
fore have I seen the evening glow shine on the leaves so
brightly.” Froda shook his head with a smile, and they
pursued in silence their unknown track.
When they came forth on the other side of the alder-
thicket upon the bank of the Maine, which almost wound
round it, Edwald saw well that another glow than that of
evening was shining on them; for dark clouds of night
already covered the heavens, and the guiding light stood
fixed on the shore of the river. It lit up the waves, so
that they could see a high, woody island in the midst of
the stream, and a boat on the hither side of the shore fast
bound to a stake. But on approaching, the knights saw
much more; —a troop of horsemen of strange and for-
eign appearance were all asleep, and in the midst of them,
slumbering on cushions, a female form in white garments.
“ Hildegardis! ” murmured Edwald to himself with a


Aslauga’s Knight 371
smile, and at the same time he drew his sword in readi—
ness for the combat as soon as the robbers should awake,
and beckoned to Froda to raise the sleeping lady, and
convey her to a place of safety. But at this moment some-
thing like an owl passed whizzing over the dark squadron;
and they all started up with clattering arms and hideous
outcries. A wild, unequal combat arose in the darkness
of night, for that beaming light had disappeared. Froda
and Edwald were driven asunder, and only at a distance
heard each other’s mighty war-cry. Hildegardis, startled
from her magic sleep, uncertain whether she were waking
0r dreaming, fled bewildered and weeping bitterly into the
. deep shades of the alder—thicket.
Froda felt his arm grow weary, and the warm blood
was flowing from two wounds in his shoulders; he wished
so to lie down in death that he might rise with honor from
his bloody grave to the exalted lady whom he served. He
cast his shield behind him, grasped his sword-hilt with
both hands, and rushed wildly, with a loud war-cry, upon
the atfrighted foe. Instantly he heard some voices cry,
“ It is the rage of the northern heroes which has come
upon him.” And the whole troop were scattered in dis-
may, while the exhausted knight remained wounded and
alone in the darkness.
Then the golden hair of Aslauga gleamed once more
in the alder-shade; and Froda said, leaning, through weari-
ness, on his sword, “ I think not that I am wounded to
death; but whenever that time shall come, 0 beloved
lady, wilt thou not indeed appear to me in all thy loveli-
ness and brightness?” A soft “Yes” breathed against
his cheek, and the golden light vanished.


Aslauga’s Knight 373
“She shines!” echoed Froda; and new strength and
hope ran through every vein. He climbed the hill, fol-
lowing the gracious gleam; and Hildegardis, though trem-
bling at the sight, went readily with her companion, say-
ing only, from time to time, in a low voice, “Ah, Sir
Knightl—my noble, wondrous knight! ——-leave me not
here alone; that would be my death.”
The knight, soothing her courteously, stepped ever on-
wards through the darkness of dell and forest; for already
he heard the sound of the Bohemians landing on the shore
of the island.
Suddenly he stood before a cave thick-covered with un-
derwood; and the gleam disappeared. “ Here, then,” he
whispered, endeavoring to hold the branches asunder.
For a moment she paused, and said, “If you should but
let the branches close again behind me, and I were to
remain alone with spectres in this cave! But, Froda, you
will surely follow me—a trembling, hunted child as I
am? Will you not ? ”
Without more misgivings she passed through the
branches; and the knight, who would willingly have re-
mained without as a guard, followed her. Earnestly he
listened through the stillness of night, whilst Hildegardis
hardly dared to draw her breath. Then was heard the
tramp of an armed man, coming ever nearer and nearer,
and now close to the entrance of the cave. In vain did
Froda strive to free himself from the trembling maiden.
Already the branches before the entrance were cracking
and breaking, and Froda sighed deeply.
‘ “Must I, then, fall like a lurking fugitive, entangled
in a woman’s garments? It is a base death to die. But


374 Mystery Tales
can I cast this half-fainting creature away from me on
the dark hard earth, perhaps into some deep abyss? Come
then what will, thou, Lady Aslauga, knowest that I die an
honorable death! ”
“ Froda! Hildegardis! ” breathed a gentle, well-known
voice at the entrance; and recognizing Edwald, Froda bore
the lady towards him into the starlight, saying, “ She will
die of terror in our sight in this deep cavern. Is the foe
near at hand? ”
“ Most of them lie lifeless on the shore, or swim bleed-
ing through the waves,” said Edwald. “ Set your mind at
rest, and repose yourself. Are you wounded, beloved
Froda 2 ”
He gave this short account to his astonished compan—
ions—how, in the darkness, he had mixed with the B0-
hemians and pressed into the skiff, and that it had been
easy for him on landing to disperse the robbers entirely,
who supposed that they were attacked by one of their own
crew, and thought themselves bewitched. “ They began
at last to fall on one another,’ ’— so he ended his history,—
“and we have only now to wait for the morning to con-
duct the lady home; for those who are wandering about
of that owl-squadron will doubtless hide themselves from
the eye of day.”
While speaking, he had skillfully and carefully arranged
a couch of twigs and moss for Hildegardis; and when the
wearied one, after uttering some gentle words of gratitude,
had sunk into a slumber, he began, as well as the dark-
ness would allow, to bind up the wounds of his friend.
During this anxious task, while the dark boughs of the


376 Mystery Tales
tween her two deliverers; and from castle, town, and ham-
let came forth many a rejoicing train to assure themselves
with their own eyes of the happy news.
Hildegardis turned to Edwald with eyes sparkling
through tears, and said,- “Were it not for you, young
knight, they might have sought long and vainly before
they found the lost maiden or the noble Froda, who would
now be lying in that dark cavern a bleeding and lifeless
corse.”
Edwald bowed lowly in reply, but persevered in his
wonted silence. It even seemed as though an unusual
grief restrained the smile which erewhile answered so
readily, in childlike sweetness, to every friendly word.
The noble guardian of Hildegardis had, in the over-
flowing joy of his heart, prepared a sumptuous banquet,
and invited all the knights and ladies present to attend it.
Whilst Froda and Edwald, in all the brightness of their
glory, were ascending the steps in the train of their res—
cued lady, Edwald said to his friend, “ Noble, steadfast
knight, you can never love me more!” And as Froda
looked in astonishment, he continued, “ Thus it is when
children presume to counsel heroes however well they may
mean it. Now have I offended grievously against you,
and yet more against the noble Lady Aslauga.”
“ Because you would have plucked every flower of your
own garden to gladden me with them?” said Froda:
“ No; you are my gentle brother in arms now, as hereto-
fore, dear Edchen, and are perhaps become yet dearer to
me.”
Then Edwald smiled again in silent contentment, like
a flower after the morning showers of May.


Aslauga’s Knight 379
But Edwald moved not to take it up. On the contrary,
a glow of lofty anger was on his cheeks, and his eyes
sparkled with indignation, so that his friend would hardly
have recognized him; and after a silence he spoke: —
“ Noble Sir Froda, if I have ever offended you, we are
now even. How durst you, a warrior gloriously wounded
by two sword-strokes, challenge a man unhurt into the lists
to-morrow, if you did not despise him?”
“ Forgive me, Duke Edwald,” answered Eroda, some-
what abashed, but with cheerfulness; “ I have spoken too
boldly: not till I am completely cured do I call you to the
field.”
Then Edwald took up the gauntlet joyfully; he knelt
once more before Hildegardis, who, turning away her face,
gave him her fair hand to kiss, and walked, with his arm
in that of his noble Danish friend, out of the hall.
While Froda’s wounds were healing, Edwald would
sometimes wander, when the shades of evening fell dark
and silent around, on the flowery terraces beneath the win—
dows of Hildegardis, and sing pleasant little songs;
amongst others the following: —
“ Heal fast, heal fast, ye hero-wounds;
O knight, be quickly strong;
Beloved strife
For fame and life,
0 tarry not too long!”
But that one which the maidens of the castle loved best
to learn from him was this; and it was perhaps the long-
est song that Edwald had ever sung in his whole life: ——


380 Mystery Tales
“Would I on earth were lying,
By noble hero slain;
So that love’s gentle sighing
Breath’d me to life again!
“Would I an emperor were,
Of wealth and power!
Would I were gathering twigs
In woodland bower!
“Would that, in lone seclusion,
I lived a hermit’s life!
Would, amid wild confusion,
I led the battle strife!
“0 would the lot were mine,
In bower or field,
To which my lady fair
Her smile would yield!”
At this time it happened, that a man, who held himself
to be very wise, and who filled the office of secretary to the
aged guardian of Hildegardis, came to the two knightly
friends to propose a scheme to them. His proposal, in a
few words, was this, that as Froda could gain no advan-
tage from his victory, he might in the approaching combat
suffer himself to be thrown from his steed, and thus se-
curethe lady for his comrade, at the same time fulfilling
the wish of the Emperor, which might turn to his advan-
tage hereafter in many ways.
At this the two friends at first laughed heartily; but
then Froda advanced gravely towards the secretary, and
said, “Thou trifler, doubtless the old duke would drive


Aslauga’s Knight 381
thee from his service did he know of thy folly, and teach
thee to talk of the Emperor. Good night, worthy sir;
and trust me that when Edwald and I meet each other, it
will be with all our heart and strength.”
The secretary hastened out of the room with all speed,
and was seen next morning to look unusually pale.
Soon after this, Froda recovered from his wounds; the
course was again prepared as before, but crowded by a
still greater number of spectators; and in the freshness of
a dewy morning the two knights advanced solemnly to-
gether to the combat.
“ Beloved Edwald,” said Froda, in a low voice, as they
went, “take good heed to yourself, for neither this time
can the victory be yours; on that rose-colored cloud ap-
pears Aslauga.”
“ It may be so,” answered Edwald with a quiet smile;
“ but under the arches of that golden bower shines Hilde-
gardis, and this time she has not been waited for.”
The knights took their places; the trumpets sounded;
the course began; and Froda’s prophecy seemed to be near
its fulfillment, for Edwald staggered under the stroke of
his lance, so that he let go the bridle, seized the mane with
both hands, and thus hardly recovered his seat, whilst his
high-mettled snow-white steed bore him wildly around the
lists without control. Hildegardis also seemed to shrink
at the sight; but the youth at length reined in his steed,
and the second course was run.
Froda shot like lightning along the plain, and it seemed
as if the success of the young duke were now hopeless;
but in the shock of their meeting, the bold Danish steed


386 Mystery Tales
through all the surrounding splendor to her face, rejoicing
heart and sense with the unspeakany sweet smile of her
eyes and lips.
Near the end of the dance, she inclined towards Froda
and whispered to him with an air of tender confidence,
and with the last sound of the horns and hautboys she had
disappeared.
The most curious spectator dared not question Froda
about his partner. Hildegardis did not seem to have been
conscious of her presence; but shortly before the end of
the festival, Edwald approached his friend, and asked in
a whisper, “ Was it ? ”
“ Yes, dear youth,” answered Froda, “your marriage-
dance has been honored by the presence of the most ex-
alted beauty which has been ever beheld in any land.
Ah! and if I rightly understood her meaning, you will
never more see me stand sighing and gazing upon the
ground. But hardly dare I hope it. Now good night,
dear Edchen, good night. As soon as I may, I will tell
you all.”
The light and joyous dreams of morning still played
round Edwald’s head, when it seemed as though a clear
light encompassed him. He remembered Aslauga; but
it was Froda, the golden locks of whose helmet shone now
with no less sunny brightness than the flowing hair of his
lady. “Ah!” thought Edwald, in his dream, “ how
beautiful has my dear brother in arms become!” And
Froda said to him, “ I will sing something to you, Edchen,
but softly, so that it may not awaken Hildegardis. Listen:





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