1828.] The Sexton of Cologne. 401 



a-year, and shews the course of the planets, as well as the hours of the 

 day, was the only thing that had sound or motion in the whole cathedral. 

 Its monotonous ticking seemed to mock the silent grave. 



It was a stormy November evening, when Petier Bolt, the Sexton of 

 St. Peter's, was returning home after this splendid funeral. The poor 

 man, who had been married four years, had one child, a daughter, which 

 his wife brought him in the second year of their marriage, and was again 

 expecting her confinement. It was, therefore, with a heavy heart that 

 he had left the church for his cottage, which lay damp and cold on the 

 banks of a river, and which, at this dull season, looked more gloomy 

 than ever. At the door he was met by the little Maria, who called out 

 with great delight, " You must not go up stairs, father ; the stork has 

 been here, and brought Maria a little brother !" a piece of information 

 more expected than agreeable, and which was soon after confirmed by 

 the appearance of his sister-in-law, with a healthy infant in her arms. 

 His wife, however, had suffered much, and was in a state that required 

 assistance far beyond his means to supply. In this distress he bethought 

 himself of the Jew, Isaac, who had lately advanced him a trifle on his 

 old silver watch; but now, unfortunately, he had nothing more to 

 pledge, and was forced to ground all his hopes on the Jew's compassion 

 a very unsafe anchorage. With doubtful steps he sought the house of 

 the miser, and told his tale amidst tears and sighs ; to all of which Isaac 

 listened with great patience so much so, indeed, that Bolt began to 

 flatter himself with a favourable answer to his petition. But he was dis- 

 appointed : the Jew, having heard him out, coolly replied, "that he 

 could lend no monies on a child it was no good pledge." 



With bitter execrations on the usurer's hardheartedness, poor Bolt 

 rushed from his door ; when, to aggravate his situation, the first snow 

 of the season began to fall, and that so thick and fast, that, in a very 

 short time, the house-tops presented a single field of white. Immersed 

 in his grief, he missed his way across the market-place, and, when he 

 least expected such a thing, found himself in the front of the cathedral. 

 The great clock chimed three quarters it wanted then a quarter to 

 twelve. Where was he to look for assistance at such an hour or, indeed, 

 at any hour ? He had already applied to the rich prelates, and got from 

 them all that their charity was likely to give. Suddenly, a thought 

 struck him like lightning ; he saw his little Maria crying for the food 

 he could not give her his sick wife, lying in bed, with the infant on her 

 exhausted bosom and then Adelaide, in her splendid coffin, and her 

 hand glittering with jewels that it could not grasp. " Of what use are 

 diamonds to her now ?" said he to himself. " Is there any sin in robbing 

 the dead to give to the living ? I would not do such a thing for myself 

 if I were starving no, Heaven forbid ! But for my wife and child 

 ah ! that's quite another matter." 



Quieting his conscience, as well as he could, with this opiate, he hur- 

 ried home to get the necessary implements ; but, by the time he reached 

 his own door, his resolution began to waver. The sight, however, of his 

 wife's distress wrought him up again to the sticking-place ; and having 

 provided himself with a dark lantern, the church-keys, and a crow to 

 break open the coffin, he set out for the cathedral. On the way, all man- 

 ner of strange fancies crossed him : the earth seemed to shake beneath 

 him it was the tottering of his own limbs : a figure seemed to sign him 

 back it was the shade thrown from some column, that waved to arid fro 



M. M. New Series. VOL. V. No. 28. 3 F 



