but in that of my herd, it is a misfortune that often Defalls me, sinner that I am!"

"I know not that sympathy with thy cows can teach thee the humiliation and depression that come over the mind, when we stand on this goodly earth, cut off from all communication with our fellows, in a desert, though surrounded by living men, deprived of the senses of sight and hearing for useful ends, and with all the signs of God before the eyes, and yet with none of the common means of enjoying his bounty, from having lost the clue to his intentions."

"Must the teeth, of necessity, be idle, or the throat dry, Master Forester, because the path is hid?"

"At such a moment the appetites are quieted, in the grand desire to return to our usual communication with the earth. It is like being restored to the helplessness of infancy, with all the wants and habits of manhood besetting the character and wishes."

"If thou callest such a condition a restoration, friend Berchthold, I shall make interest with St. Benedict that I may remain deposed to the end of my days."

"I weigh not the meaning of every word I utter, with the recollection of that helpless moment so fresh. But it was when the desolate feeling was strongest, that I roved out of the chase upon this mountain heath; there appeared something before my sight, that seemed a house, and by a bright light that glittered, as I fancied, at a window, I felt again restored to intercourse with my kind."

"Thou usest thy terms with more discretion now," said the cow-herd, fetching a heavy breath, like one who was glad the difficulty had found a termination. "I hope it was the abode of some substantial tenan* of Lord Emich, who was not without the means of comforting a soul in distress."

"Gottlob, the dwelling was no other than the

Teufelstein, and the light was a twinkling star, that chance had brought in a line with the rock."

"I take it for granted, Master Berchthold, thou didst not knock twice for admission at that door!" "I am not much governed by the vulgar legends and womanish superstitions of our hills, but"

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"Softly-softly-friend forester; what thou callest by names so irreverent, are the opinions of all who dwell in or about Deurckheim; knight or monk -burgher or count, has equally a respect for our venerable traditions. Tausand Sechs und Zwanziges! what would become of us, if we had not a gory tale, or some alarming and reverend spectacle of this sort, to set up against the penances, and prayers, and masses of the Friars of Limburg !—As much wisdom and philosophy as thou wilt, fosterbrother of mine, but leave us our Devil, if it be only to make battle against the Abbot!"

"Notwithstanding thy big words, I well know that none among us has, at heart, a greater dread of this very hill than thyself, Gottlob! I have seen thee sweat cold drops from thy forehead, in crossing the heath after night-fall."

"Art quite sure 'twas not the dew? We have heavy falls of that moisture in these hills, when the earth is parched!"

"Let it then be the dew."

"To oblige thee, Berchthold, I would willingly swear it was a water-spout. But what didst thou make of the rock and the star?"

"I could change the nature of neither. I pretend not to thy indifference to the mysterious power that rules the earth, but thou well knowest that fear never yet kept me from this hill. When a near approach showed me my error, I was about to turn away, not without crossing myself and repeating an Ave, as I am ready to acknowledge; but a

glance upward convinced me that the stone was o cupied

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Occupied? I have always known that it was possessed, but never before did I think it was occupied !"

"There was one seated on its uppermost projection, as plainly to be seen as the rock itself."

"Whereupon thou madest manifest that good speed which has gained thee the favor of the Count, and thy post of forester."

"I hope the nerve to put the duties of my office in practice, had their weight with Lord Emich," rejoined Berchthold, a little quickly. "I did not run, Gottlob, but I spoke to the being who had chosen a seat so remarkable, and at that late hour."

Spite of his spirits and affected humor, the cowherd unconsciously drew nearer to his companion, casting at the same time an oblique glance in the direction of the suspected rock.

"Thou seemest troubled, Gottlob."

"Dost thou think I am without bowels? What, shall a friend of mine be in this strait, and I not troubled! Heaven save thee, Berchthold, were the best cow in my herd off her stomach, I could not be in greater concern. Hadst any answer?"

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“I had—and the result has gone to show me," returned the forester, musing as he spoke, like one who was obtaining glimpses of long-concealed truth, "that our fears oftentimes prevent us from seeing things as they are, and are the means of nourishing our mistakes. I got an answer, and certainly, contrary to what most in Deurckheim would have believed, it was given in a human voice."

"That was encouraging, though it were hoarser than the roaring of a bull!”

"It spoke mildly and in reason, Gottlob, as thou wilt readily believe, when I tell thee it was no other than the voice of the Anchorite of the Cedars.

Our acquaintance then and there commenced, since which time, as thou knowest well, it hath not flagged for want of frequent visits to his abode, on my part.”

The cow-herd walked on in silence, for more than a minute, and then stopping short, he abruptly addressed his companion :

"And this then hath been thy secret, Berchthold concerning the manner of commencing on thy new friendship."

"There is no other. I well knew how much thou wert fettered by the opinions of the country, and was afraid of losing thy company in these visits, were I, without caution, to tell all the circumstances of our interview. But now thou hast become known to the anchorite, I do not fear thy desertion."

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Never count upon too many sacrifices from thy friends, Master Berchthold! The mind of man is borne upon by so many fancies, is ruled by so many vagaries, and tormented by so many doubts, when there is question concerning the safety of the body, to say nothing of the soul, that I know no more rash confidence, than to count too securely on the sacrifices of a friend."

"Thou knowest the path, and can return by thyself, to the hamlet, if thou wilt," said the forester peevishly, and not without severity.

"There are situations in which it is as difficult to go back as to go forward," observed Gottlob; "else, Berchthold, I might take thee at thy word, and go back to my careful mother, a good supper, and a bed that stands between a picture of the Virgin, one of St. Benedict, and one of my Lord the Count. But for my concern for thee, I would not go another foot towards the camp."

"Do as thou wilt," said the forester, who appeared, however, to know the apprehension his companion felt of being left alone in that solitary and suspected spot, and who turned his advantage to good

account, by quickening his pace in such a manner as would soon have left Gottlob to his own thick-coming fancies, had he not diligently imitated his gait. "Thou canst tell the people of Lord Emich, that thou abandoned me on this hill."

"Nay," returned Gottlob, making a merit of necessity, "if I do that, or say that, may they make a Benedictine of me, and the Abbot of Limburg to boot!"

The

As the cow-herd, who felt all his master's antipathies against their religious neighbors, expressed this determination in a voice strong as his resolution, confidence was restored between the friends, who continued their progress with swift paces. place was, sooth to say, one every way likely to quicken any dormant seeds of superstition that education, or tradition, or local opinions had implanted in the human breast.

By this time our adventurers had approached a wood of low cedars, which, apparently encircled in a round wall that was composed of a confused but vast pile of fallen stones, grew upon the advanced spur of the hills. Behind them lay the heath-like plain, while the bald rock which the moon-beams had just lighted, raising its head from out of the earth, resembled some gloomy monument placed in the centre of the waste, to mark and to render obvious, by comparison, the dreary solitude of the naked fields. The back-ground was the dark slopes and ridges of the forest of the Haart mountains. On their right was the glen, or valley, from which they had just ascended; and on their front, looking a little obliquely from the grove, the plain of the Palatinate, which lay in misty obscurity, like a dim sea of cultivation, hundreds of feet beneath their elevated stand.

It was rare, indeed, that any immediate dependant of the Count Emich, and more especially any of