RELICS OF POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS. 



Ill 



rocks whicli formed an ascent to the Mountain-House where the 

 elder Hermanwald resided. A strange chant, proceeding from 

 uncouth voices, interrupted the travellers' discourse, and they saw 

 a few lean, hag-Hke figures creeping up the stony stairs, carrying 

 vessels filled with water, and solacing their labour with a national 

 ditty, according to the custom of their province. " Now," said the 

 young nobleman to his companion, " if Enghsh theories are right, 

 your spectres ought to be, not a drowned man with wet hair, but 

 an industrious old dame in the shape of one of these ; for they 

 resemble your wife, whose image has the best right to be in your 

 brain, if not in your heart." And laughing as he spoke, he en- 

 tered his father's portal followed by Hendrig and by one of these 

 ancient women, who suddenly thrust herself between the gates, 

 and entered with them. Surprised at such audacity, young Her- 

 manwald turned back to punish it, and recognized Hendrig's wife. 

 His anger instantly seemed changed to mirth ; and mistaking the 

 paleness of Hendrig's countenance for an expression of chagrin 

 and confusion, he gave scope to his frolic temper, and seizing the 

 decrepit beldame's hand, with a mock air of profound respect, 

 ushered her ceremoniously into the presence-chamber, where the 

 master of the Mountain-House waited for them. Already ac- 

 quainted with the comic romance of Hendrig's marriage, his son's 

 few arch words of affected introduction informed him how to re- 

 ceive the wrinkled and deformed creature he called the young en- 

 sign's bride. He rebuked his son's mirth with a side look of dis- 

 pleasure, and endeavoured to conciliate Hendrig by an air of se- 

 rious courtesy to his strange follower. But his surprise was great 

 when the withered and infirm woman, gathering her tattered cloak 

 under her arm, and putting back its hood, shewed a grim bare 

 head, and limbs of most masculine proportion. Stalking towards 

 old Hermanwald, she stood erect before him, saying, in a voice 

 which sounded as if from the depths of a vast cavern — " If thou 

 art Eric of Heinnichshohe, who am I ?" The lord of the Moun- 

 tain-House was silent, and his son doubted whether he looked on 

 a human shape or on a spectre, such as the Giant of the Broken. 

 After a moment's pause, the stranger drew forth the sleeve of a 

 blue uniform coat, its cuff red with stains of blood, and held it 

 near old Hermanwald, but did not appear to view it with any feel- 

 ing of surprise or dismay. " You mean to awe me with hints of 

 murder," said he, suddenly assuming fierceness—" but I am no 



