length every trace of it was effaced, and all his efforts could no longer recover it. Still he urged forward his weary steed; for he had now no other alternative; except that of passing the night alone in this dreary wood,-unprotected and unsheltered. After some time thus spent, he suddenly came upon a Hun-fort; one of those remnants of barbarian encampment which are still to be found in almost all parts of Germany.* A large fire stood in the centre of the circular space enclosed by the crumbling outworks of the ruin; and three withered old hags were jumping round the flame, hand in hand, in the most fantastic manner. Guntram reined in his steed; and, retreating to the shadow of a thick clump of trees, gazed earnestly on their strange proceedings. He had a presentiment that he was, somehow or other, mixed up with them. Their dance done, one of the hags, in a croaking voice, - like that of an old raven,—sang the following verse:—

"Nettles three I've torn to-day,
From yon giant's grave away;
Out of these a thread I've spun:

Sisters, see!-my work is done."

A second then took up the strain, in a still more discordant tone, and proceeded:

"In tears I'll seeth it-I'll feed it with groans;

My loom and shuttle be dead men's bones,-
With which I'll weave five ells, so free,

Of linen fine, as ye shall see."

The third thus concluded the fearful strain :—

"A shroud to make I'll then begin,

Fit to fold sleeping bridegroom in:
Sir knight, ride slowly, for d' ye see,

When finished, we will fetch it thee."

His

In another moment, fire and hags and all had disappeared; and Guntram felt as if he had awoke from a horrid dream. heart was sad; his brain a vortex, where all was confusion. Setting spurs to his steed away he flew over hedge and hollow, through brushwood, thicket, and brier, and never held hand or drew rein until he had reached the forest-inn, which he had before so vainly

* There are many similar remains of barbarian antiquity in Ireland; the common people call them Danish forts. England has some also.

sought; the noble animal reeking with foam, and he, himself, nearly sinking to the ground with fatigue of mind and body. He slept a troubled sleep during the remainder of that night.

Early in the following morning he resumed his route; and at the close of the day reached Falkenburg-the castle where dwelt the ladye of his love, full of hope and expectation of pleasure. As he rode across the drawbridge he saw two men precede him, without perceiving whence they came; and between them he saw borne before him a black coffin. They passed through the archway of the portcullis; and disappeared at once from his view. He called aloud to them to stop, for the sight excited his fears for the safety of his Liba; but they paid no attention whatever to his cries. He then asked the warders which way they went; but the warders only shook their heads, and said they had not seen them. Filled with the most dismal forebodings he rode into the inner court-yard, and alighted from his horse with difficulty, so much was his frame enfeebled by undefined dread and fear. He ascended slowly to Liba's bower; and, in another moment, she was fondly clasped in his arms. His dread was now dissipated; his fear fled; and his serenity of mind restored.

"Who is dead in the castle ?" enquired he of his dear Liba. "Dead!" exclaimed she in surprise; 66 no one."

"Whose, then, was the coffin which entered the gate before

me?"

"Coffin!" said she, smiling; " coffin !-you have mistaken the bridal-bed, which has just been brought in, for a coffin—ha ! ha ha!"

She laughed aloud.

"See here," she continued, opening a door, "here is what you saw brought in as you entered the castle."

The bridal-bed was there sure enough; but Guntram was not to be undeceived. He only shook his head; and sought to repress his emotions. Before he parted with Liba, at his ear

She was

nest entreaty a near day was fixed for their union. happy in her innocence ;-how was he? We shall shortly see. Every hour which brought the day of their nuptials nearer decreased Guntram's sorrow, cleared up the clouds which hung

on his spirits, and made him altogether less unhappy. nothing could make him gay again: for him there seemed no joy in this world any longer. The appointed day at length arrived; and the bridal party proceeded to the chapel of the castle to assist in the celebration of the marriage. Their course lay across the principal court, and thence through a long, dim, vaulted gallery. As Guntram entered this passage, accompanied by the blooming maiden about to become his bride, he was aware of a veiled female form, led on by a tall knight accoutred in coal-black armour, preceding them. His soul sunk within him at the sight; for again a presentiment of evil passed over him like a thunder-cloud. He remembered the coffin which he had seen some days before;— the story which the peasant had told him;—and the adventure he had met with in the fearful old castle of Waldburg: and he had not the heart to ask the black knight or the veiled lady who they were, or what was their business. Of this, however, he felt quite sure-they were not among the guests whom he had bidden to the banquet; nor had he ever seen them before that he possessed a consciousness of. The black knight and the veiled lady entered the chapel: Guntram and Liba did the same: the bridal party followed. The ceremony proceeded; the responses were made; the marriage drew to a conclusion. Guntram reached forth his hand to his bride, to take her's "for life and for death," at the bidding of the priest; and he clasped — what felt to him like the hand of a corpse,—chill, cold, and damp, as with the dews of death. He looked-between him and his Liba stood the maiden of Waldburg, with the sad, wanton eyes, and the long yellow hair. It was her hand that held his within its icy grasp. Uttering a cry of horror, Guntram fell

senseless to the earth; and in that state he was removed from the chapel to a chamber in the castle. Reason and recollection were long before they returned to him: when they did, however, he at once made preparations for a future state. A priest was sent for; and he confessed, and received the holy communion from the father. Liba was then summoned to his bedside-now his death-bed;-and there, without concealment or disguise, he told her all that had occurred to him in the chambers of Waldburg, and in the chapel of her own castle. Of the latter she was

ignorant until that moment; for the veiled lady and the black knight were invisible to all present save the hapless Guntram.

"Be thou my guardian angel," concluded he passionately, "in this my last hour of tribulation and sorrow; and banish, by thy pure presence and thy fervent prayers, the fearful form that still haunts my dying moments."

Liba wept bitterly, and offered up the orisons of an untainted heart for the peace of her lover's departing spirit. As she proceeded to pour forth her soul to heaven in his behalf, he gradually acquired temporary strength of mind and body, and his soul began again to know that serenity which it had been so long a stranger to.

"Liba, my dear Liba," said he, "I feel that, until thou art mine, until the vow which I plighted to thee is fulfilled, I can neither live nor die. Wilt thou be my bride?—the bride of a dying man?"

The maiden answered not, but went forth from the chamber. In a few moments she returned with the priest, who had previously left her lover.

"In life or in death I am thine," was all she could say for sobbing and grief.

The ceremony was celebrated in full. Scarce had the last response been uttered by the departing knight, when the sleep of death fell on his heavy eyelids ;—the shadows of the grave then closed over him for ever. One sign only he made:-he stretched out his stiffening hand to his beloved Liba. She clasped it, kissed it, and sunk on his bosom. A moment more, and his soul had fled to that place "where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.”

Liba sorrowed but a short time in her widow's weeds: for a few weeks only had elapsed when she followed her departed husband. One grave holds them both.

RHEINSTEIN.

Rheinstein castle is now one of the most interesting remnants of the past on the Rhine; inasmuch as one of the royal princes of Prussia has had it rebuilt on the original plan, as far as

VOL. II.

Y

possible; and fitted up for a summer residence altogether in the fashion of six centuries since. Very little is known of its early history; and that little chiefly relates to the predatory exploits of its possessors in the middle ages. It is said to have shared the same fate as the contiguous strongholds of rapine, at the hands of the Rhenish confederation, in the middle of the thirteenth century; and to have remained a ruin from that time until very recently. The following is one of the traditions connected with its earlier period of power and pride.