and that the hapless husband was united again, in the other world, to that wife he loved so well in this, and for whose sake he had suffered so much, and made such fearful sacrifices.

Since this adventure, it is related that the Kedrich, in that particular part of it where this wondrous feat was performed, has been named the "Devil's Ladder," in allusion to this event; and an old saddle is still shewn in Lorch, as that on which Sir Gilgen rode to the summit of the mountain.

FÜRSTENBERG.

Almost directly opposite Lorch, on the left bank of the Rhine, rise the remains of the once famous castle of Fürstenberg. Lordly even in ruin, they still tower commandingly over the humble hamlet of Medenschied, which nestles at the foot of the hill on which they are situated. The castle of Fürstenberg was demolished in the "war of succession," by the French forces on the Rhine, A.D. 1689. Of its earlier history little authentic is known; but there are many legends of it in those ancient days still current among the neighbouring peasantry. This is one of the most popular of them.

THE PHANTOM MOTHER.

Franz von Fürst, lord of the castle of Fürstenberg, in the thirteenth century, after a youth of dissipation and licentiousness, settled down into a serious manhood, which gave his friends fair promise and good hope of an honourable future for him. A wound received in a drunken duel with one of the companions of his revelries, which lamed him for a considerable period, greatly helped to soberize his temperament, and contributed much to this change for the better that had taken place in his mode of life. Acting under the advice of his relations, he sought a wife; and he found a maiden fitted to make any man happy, in Kunigunda von Florsheim. They were married: every thing went on happily; and nought seemed likely to dim the prospect of a peaceful and unclouded life, which lay bright and clear before them. Kunigunda was young, virtuous, and highly

bred; she loved order and arrangement in her household; and in her the poor and the necessitous never failed to find a friend. Franz von Fürst loved her, or seemed to love her: we shall soon know enough of him to say no more.

As they sat together in the castle garden one lovely summer eve, a maiden was announced, who had arrived on a visit to Kunigunda. Her name was Amina. She was the daughter of a neighbouring noble, whose castle had been destroyed, and whose household and family had been dispersed, because of the depredations he had committed on passengers on the road and on the river. He had himself sought refuge no one knew whither. Amina, having now no longer a home, sought one with the friend of her youth; and she found a welcome, such as only virtue and goodness give to distress and danger. From thenceforward she became a denizen of Fürstenberg; and divided, with its lady, the attentions of its lord.

Amina was young, and very beautiful; and, in so far, there was a similarity between her and Kunigunda: but there the similarity altogether ceased; for Amina was as close and as crafty in her nature as her friend was open and free. The result of this visit was speedily made apparent.

Franz von Fürst's amendment was, after all, but a seeming reformation. The habits of years are not so easily changed. His old feelings for vice had but slept; they were by no means extinguished the snake was only scotched-it was not killed. He thought of his wild reckless youth; and he longed to live over again the days that had departed. Little recked he of the bliss he enjoyed in a virtuous wife, and a quiet, well-ordered, happy home; the greatest blessings man can have on this earth: he would again lead the unconstrained life of a bon vivant, and a gay bachelor. It is not difficult to foresee the consequences of this desire.

Amina, in short, managed matters so adroitly, that she soon won his fickle affections. From that moment the doom of Kunigunda was decided. The false friend filled his mind with insinuations against the bride of his bosom: she bade him mark her bearing-she construed her tenderness into hypocrisy-her gentleness into coldness-her love into indifference. The weak husband believed her; and the innocent wife was lost.

Nine months after the birth of a beautiful boy, Kunigunda, who had never held up her head from the instant the fatal conviction of her husband's altered affections flashed on her mind, was one morning found dead in her bed. It was given out by her husband and his paramour that she had been suffocated in the night with a fit of coughing; and that she had died before assistance could reach her. She was hurried to the family vault in the castle chapel, with unseemly haste; and, with a haste still more unseemly, within one week after her funeral, Amina stood beside the altar whence the ritual for the dead had been repeated so very few days before, responding as the bride of the Baron of Fürstenberg.

The boy, the offspring of the hapless Kunigunda, was now totally neglected. No longer a tender mother's care watched over the dangers and difficulties which beset the days of his infancy: no longer the father looked proud as he gazed on his child, and hoped to see himself revived in him. Far other things occupied the mind of Franz-perhaps he called them pleasures—I know not. Poor little Hugo, however, shared the hate which Amina bore to his departed mother; and his infantile sufferings were uncared for by his heartless sire, who was now wholly swallowed up in the artifices and intrigues of his new bride. The helpless

infant was soon consigned to the charge of an old female domestic ; and both were exiled to the most distant tower of the castle. The nurse was old, as I have just said; she was also ill-natured: the child was unaccustomed to neglect; and he manifested his feeling at it by his restlessness. Many and many a bitter curse did the crone bestow on the baby as he cried a-nights, and kept her awake: many and many a time did she wish him with his dead mother, when he roused her from her sleep by his impatience and fretfulness. Thus things went on for a time.

One night, however, the cruel old creature awoke of a sudden from her sleep. She awoke as though she were compelled to do so by some invisible power, which painfully urged her to consciousness. It was a bright night, and the moonbeams streamed full into the spacious chamber, making every thing distinctly visible in their pure clear light. She sat upright in her bed: she felt as though she were forced to do so. A creaking sound struck her ear! Could it be the cradle of the baby? so she

thought. But the idea seemed impossible to her. Again the rocking creak came on her ear; and, anon, the low suppressed notes of a female voice were audible, singing the old nursery song, "Hush ye, my baby; on the tree top,

When the wind blows, the cradle will rock."

She drew the curtains, and sprang from the bed; and lo! by the cradle she saw a female, clothed in long white garments, leaning over the sleeping innocent; and heard her crooning softly that well-known nursery ditty. She looked again. Horror upon horror! it was the deceased Kunigunda-the hapless babe's mother -who sat and rocked the cradle while she sung her orphan son to sleep. The old nurse could not move-she could not faint, though a mortal sickness fell on her she could not stir, more than if she had been made of marble. After a time, the ghost took the child from the cradle, placed it on her lap, undid its night-clothes, and looked carefully all over its little body, as if to discover whether it had any unseen cause of pain or uneasiness: then again as carefully clothing it, she laid it down gently, as a mother only may do, in its little nest, and covered it up most comfortably. The infant slept meanwhile as soundly as the dead. A few moments more the phantom mother only lingered; for the clear shrill note of the cock came full on the breeze from the court below. Slowly rising from her seat beside the cradle, she bent over her sleeping boy, and imprinting a kiss on his cherub lips, with a deep, long-drawn sigh, which resounded through the vaulted apartment like an echo from the other world, she suddenly disappeared. The old nurse sank senseless on the bed; and in that condition remained until the morning was far gone.

On her recovery, she sought her lord and his lady, and told them her tale. Franz von Fürstenberg affected to disbelieve it, and abused her heartily for her folly; but even as he did so, his heart failed within him; for he felt that her story was but too true. Amina, however, did not disbelieve the main facts of the narration she only concluded that Kunigunda had not been effectually poisoned; and that life had been restored to her by some intervention of which she possessed no knowledge. When a woman loses herself, she is indeed lost. Full of this idea, the murderess resolved to take the nurse's place herself the

next night; and she armed herself with a long, sharp dagger to complete the deed she deemed had only been unsuccessfully attempted. She did not communicate her entire plan to her husband, but only informed him that she meant, herself, to test the nurse's tale. It would, however, have been all the same if she had; for he was so infatuated with her vile arts, that he had no will of his own, and scarcely a perception of good or evil that was not coincident with her opinions.

The night fell, and Amina took her place in the nurse's bed. Rage, jealousy, disappointment, and the desire of her rival's death, were the feelings that overflowed in her black heart. The hour of midnight drew nigh;—the clock struck eleven. A deep sleep fell on her. She was awakened by the cries of the babe, exactly as the clock struck twelve. She looked towards the cradle. There sat Kunigunda. She knew her dead friend at once, for the moonbeams fell full on her pale face. But, oh, how changed was that face! The colour of the grave-the hue of the damp, rotting mould was over it all. The eye, however, was still bright; but it was with a brightness altogether unearthly. The sinful Amina had never seen aught like it. While she looked -fascinated even as the bird by the glance of the snake-she saw the phantom perform the same operation that the old nurse had described. She then saw her kiss the babe, and rise to depart. Her evil passions now got the upperhand of her terror and dread: -she sprang from the bed, and just as the form of her murdered friend passed by in the act of leaving the chamber, she rushed towards it, and grasped at her upraised arm. She grasped at air; the form was impalpable ;-nothing met her touch. Powerless she fell on the floor. Meanwhile the phantom moved slowly towards the chamber door; and there standing for a moment, shook her hand in a threatening manner at the prostrate sinner. In another moment she had disappeared. Amina fainted away.

Sensation returned to her only at the dawning of the day. She then retired to her chamber; and, from that hour, was never more seen in the castle.

In the course of the afternoon the following billet was found on her dressing-table; it was handed to the baron, her husband, to whom it was addressed. Thus it ran :—

“I have seen the ghost of the murdered Kunigunda. I go