66

66

friendly tone, said to her: "You, no doubt, wish to fetch some wine from the knights' cellar?" Yes," answered the girl timidly, "but I have no money." "Come with me," said the woman, and you shall have wine for nothing, and better than your father has ever yet tasted." They both then passed through a half-ruinous passage, and the young maiden had to tell how things were going on in Tilleda. Once," said the old woman, "I was as young and fair as you, when the knights stole me away by night, through a passage underground from the house in Tilleda which now belongs to your father. Not long before this, they carried off by force from Kelbra, as they were coming out of church in broad daylight, the four fair damsels, who still at times ride about here on their richly-caparisoned horses, and then vanish. When I grew old, they made me the overseer of their wine-cellar, and that I am still." They had now arrived at the cellar-door, which the old woman opened. It was a large, roomy vault, on both sides of which lay huge casks of wine. She tapped on the casks, the greater number of which were half, or entirely full. She then took the small pitcher, filled it with most excellent wine, and said: There, take that to your father, and as often as you have a merry-making in your house, you can return; but tell no one save your father whence you get the wine. Nor may you sell any of it; for as you get it for nothing, you must give it for nothing. If any one comes here to fetch wine to make a profit by it, his last loaf is baked."

The young girl brought the wine to her father, which the guests found most excellent, without being able to guess whence it came, and whenever there was a little merrymaking in the house, Ilsabe fetched wine from the Kyffhäuser in her little pitcher. But this pleasure did not last long. The neighbours wondered whence the poor man procured such excellent wine, as the like of it was not to be found in the whole country. But the father told no one, neither did Ilsabe. Opposite to them lived a vintner, who adulterated all that he sold. He had once tasted the knights' wine, and thought: "That wine thou couldst dilute with ten times the quantity of water, and yet sell it with profit." He therefore followed the young maiden

when she was going with her little pitcher for the fourth time to the Kyffhäuser, hid himself among the bushes when she stopped, and after some time saw her come out of the passage which led to the cellar, with her pitcher filled.

The next evening he went himself up the mountain, and wheeled on a barrow the largest empty cask he could find. This he hoped to fill with the excellent wine, to wheel it down the mountain in the night-time, and then return every day as long as any wine remained in the cellar. When he came to the place where he had on the previous day seen an opening to the cellar, everything became dark before his eyes; the wind began to howl awfully, and the storm dashed him, his barrow, and his empty barrel from one crag to another. He continued falling deeper and deeper, and at length fell into-a grave. Here he saw

borne before him a coffin covered with black, and his wife with four mourning neighbours, whom by their dress and figure he well recognised, following the bier. With terror he fell into a swoon.

After some hours, consciousness returned; he looked around, and to his horror found himself still in the dimlylighted grave, and heard just above his head the well-known sound of the church-clock in Tilleda striking twelve.

Now he knew that it was midnight, and that he was lying in the vaults under the village church. He was more dead than alive, and hardly dared to breathe.

See! a monk approaches, and carries him up a long, long flight of steps, opens a door, silently places some money in his hand, and lays him down at the foot of the mountain. It was a cold, fine, frosty night.

By degrees the wine-dealer was sufficiently recovered to crawl home, but without either cask or wine. It struck one just as he reached his door. He was obliged to go to bed immediately, and in three days he died. The money which the necromantic monk had given him was just enough to pay for the expenses of his funeral.

THE WONDERFUL FLOWER.

A SHEPHERD from the village of Sittendorf was once driving his flock at the foot of the Kyffhäuser. He was a comely youth and betrothed to a good but poor girl. Neither he nor she owned a hut, or any money to begin housekeeping with.

Sorrowful he ascended the mountain, and the higher he went-it was a lovely day-the lighter was his heart. He soon reached its summit, where he found a wonderfully beautiful flower, the like of which he had never before seen. He plucked it, and stuck it in his hat, in order to carry it to his betrothed.

On the summit of the mountain he found an open vault, the entrance to which was somewhat ruinous. He went in, and there saw several small shining stones lying on the ground, of which he put as many into his pocket as it would hold. He was about to return into the open air, when a hollow voice called to him: "Forget not the best.' This so terrified him that he knew not how he got out of the vault. No sooner did he see the sun and his flock again, than the door, which he had not before perceived, was shut behind him. He put his hand to his hat, and the wonderful flower was gone; it had fallen out when he stumbled. Suddenly a dwarf stood before him. "Where is the wonderful flower thou didst find?" said he. 66 "Lost!" answered the shepherd, mournfully. "It was not for thee," answered the dwarf. "It is of more value than all Rothenburg!" Sorrowful the shepherd went in the evening to his betrothed, and told her the history of the lost flower; they both wept, for all hopes of a cottage and a wedding again vanished.

66

At length the shepherd recollected the stones, and playfully threw them into the lap of his beloved. Behold, they were all gold pieces. Now they bought a cottage, and a piece of land to it, and in less than a month they were man and wife.

And the wonderful flower? That has vanished, but is at the present day sought for by the dwellers on the mountain, not alone in the vaults of the Kyffhäuser, but also (as

hidden treasures are not stationary) on the Quästenburg, and even on the north side of the Harz; but the lucky one, for whom it is destined, is yet to come.

THE GOATHERD.

PETER CLAUS, a goatherd from Sittendorf, who led his herd to pasture on the Kyffhäuser, was accustomed in the evening to stop and let them rest in a place inclosed by old walls, and there to count them.

He had observed for several days that one of his finest goats, as soon as they came to this place, disappeared, and did not follow the herd till quite late. He watched it more closely, and saw that it crept through a rent in the wall. He followed and found it in a cave comfortably enjoying some oats which were falling from the roof. He looked up at seeing the rain of oats, but with all his peering, was unable to solve the mystery. At length he heard the neighing and stamping of horses overhead, from whose cribs the oats must have fallen.

While the goatherd was thus standing, lost in astonishment at hearing the sound of horses in such an uninhabited mountain, a young man suddenly appeared, who silently beckoned Peter to follow him. The goatherd ascended some steps, and came through a walled court-yard to a deep dell, inclosed by steep craggy precipices, down into which a dim light penetrated through the dense foliage of the overhanging branches. Here he found, on a well-levelled, cool grass-plot, twelve grave knightly personages playing at skittles, not one of them uttering a word. Peter was silently directed to set up the fallen skittles.

He began his task with trembling knees, when with a stolen glance he viewed the long beards and slashed doublets of the noble knights. By degrees, however, use made him bolder; he gazed around him with a more observing eye, and at length ventured to drink from a can that stood near him, the wine in which exhaled towards him a delicious fragrance. He felt as if inspired with new life, and as often as he was fatigued, he drew fresh strength from the inex

haustible wine-can. But at length he was overpowered by sleep.

When he awoke, he found himself again on the inclosed plain, where his goats had been accustomed to rest. He rubbed his eyes, but could see neither dog nor goats; he was astonished at the height of the grass, and at the sight of shrubs and trees which he had never before observed. Shaking his head, he walked on through all the ways and paths, along which he had been in the daily habit of wandering with his herd; but nowhere could he find a trace of his goats. At his feet he saw Sittendorf, and with quickened steps began to descend the mountain, for the purpose of inquiring in the village after his herd. The people he met coming from the village were all strangers to him, and differently clad, and did not even speak like his acquaintances; every one stared at him, when he inquired after his goats, and stroked their chins; he unconsciously did the same, and found, to his astonishment, that his beard was more than a foot long. He began to think that both himself and all around were bewitched; nevertheless, he recognised the mountain he had just descended as the Kyffhäuser; the houses also with their gardens were familiar to him; some boys, too, when asked by a traveller the name of the place, answered: "Sittendorf."

He now walked up the village towards his own hut. He found it in a very ruinous condition: before it lay a strange herd-boy, in a ragged jacket, and by him a half-famished dog, which showed its teeth and snarled when he called to it.

He passed through an opening where once had been a door; when he entered he found all void and desolate. Like a drunken man he reeled out at the back-door, calling on wife and children by name. But no one heard-no voice answered him. Soon many women and children collected round the old graybeard, all eagerly asking him what he sought. To ask before his own house after his wife and children, or after himself, appeared to him so extraordinary, that, in order to get rid of his questioners, he named the first one that recurred to his memory, Kurt Steffen!" All were now silent and looked at each other.

66