cometh from evil, advantage to his native city might be derived from even this source.

"A cathedral, soliloquised he, ere he spake absolution to the penitent, a cathedral, which not alone will make Germany the first country in the ecclesiastical world, but also make Cologne its first city! An edifice which will render my native place the wonder and the envy of all Christendom, to which pilgrims shall flock from the ends of the earth, and where saints may repose in perpetual glory! It must be so."

He opened a small shrine which stood in the sacristy of the church, and took therefrom a relic. It was a fragment of the true cross, which had been brought from Palestine by the crusaders, which had performed several remarkable cures during its stay in Cologne.

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and

'Here, my son," he said to the architect, "take this, and go fearlessly to meet the foul fiend. Get the plan you tell me of into your possession before you subscribe the pact with your blood, and then shew him the sacred relic. I warrant you he troubles you no more. Go, and fear not. Cologne must not lose such a chance."

It wanted just a half hour to midnight when the architect left his own dwelling, on his way once more to the place of appointment with the arch-foe of mankind. He was calm and collected; his countenance even expressed joy and pleasure for his mind was at peace, his heart was relieved from its anxiety; and he bore beneath his cloak, on his breast, the blessed fragment of wood, like a buckler, to render him invincible. At twelve o'clock he stood on the sand by the Frankenpforte: the fiend was there before him.

"And now to business,'

said the evil one;

"I have much to do to-night. Be quick. Here's the plan; and here is the compact.

Just breathe a vein in your right arm, and sign this document with the blood. The plan is then your own." The architect bared his arm; but he discovered he had neither lancet, nor knife, nor other sharp instrument wherewith to prick it. He fumbled in his pockets in vain. There was nothing to be found in doublet or hose which could answer the purpose. The fiend became impatient. "Here," he said, "hold this for a moment,

and I'll find a sharp flint. I carry no knives about me. It is rather too hot where I live; they would melt in our pockets there."

The architect stretched forth his hand and seized the plan, as the demon stooped to find a fitting stone. It was only the work of a moment. When the tempter rose, he saw with horor his intended victim brandishing the blessed relic before him, and heard him lustily exclaim,-Avaunt, Satanas! avaunt! To hell with thee, in the name of the Holy Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! By virtue of this true cross,

avaunt!'

Satan was in truth astonished, as well he might be, to find himself outwitted by one whom he had thought so completely in his power.

"I am vanquished!" and he gnashed his teeth, and stamped his cloven foot on the earth as he spake "I am vanquished, it is true; but I shall still have my revenge.

"Avaunt, Satanas! avaunt!" was the only reply made by his opponent, who still most sedulously crossed himself with the precious relic,

and occasionally protruded it at the demon wheirever he approached too near.

"I'll have my revenge, continued the prince of hell, "despite of your parsons and your other mummeries. The church you build from that plan shall never be finished; and, though you may not be damned, you will be almost as bad for you-forgotten as its architect. Future ages will find it a fragment, and your name will never be known to posterity.

"

So saying, he disappeared in the usual manner; that is to say, suddenly, with a fizz, a flash, and a foul odour.

Slowly and sadly the conqueror wended his way homewards. He had attained the object of his desire, yet still was he most unhappy. The words of the fiend had fallen like molten lead upon his heart, and he felt that they would be verified. Unfinished-unknown-forgotten! It was enough to make any man who set his heart upon fame sorrowful even unto the death. So he was. Next morning he caused a solemn high mass to be sung in honour of his victory, and in gratitude for his escape. He then commenced the erection of the cathedral. For a while it proceeded as well as he could wish. As each course of stone-work accumulated into walls; as each wall began to develope its parts and proportions; as pillars and portals began to emerge from the mass of masonry; and window and coigne, buttress and tower, gable, and roof, and pinnacle, rose daily into altitude and beauty, he almost forgot the prophecy of the fiend in transport at the prospect. Nay, on the day the choir was completed, he even deemed that, according to

his wont, the demon had dealt in lies; and, in the hope to utterly defeat him, he caused his own name to be deeply engraven on a massive iron plate, and placed high and conspicuously over the portal. But it was an idle hope, a vain delusion. Ere the body of the building had been begun, feuds of the fiercest nature broke out between the archbishop and the burghers of Cologne; the work was suddenly suspended in consequence, and never was resumed during the lifetime of the architect. He did not long survive this stroke; and it is said his death was so sudden, and accompanied by such peculiar circumstances, as left little doubt of its being a deed of darkness.

It was in the year 1248 that this stupendous structure was begun; and in the year 1499, that is to say, two hundred and fifty years later, they laboured at it still. Yet it is even now-five centuries and upwards from the date of its commencement-a mere fragment. Many princes have sought at various periods to complete it; but, from different causes, they were prevented doing so. It is a singular fact, connected with the history as well as the tradition of this cathedral, that, though sought for with the most interesting zeal and the most intense avidity by the learned of Germany, the name of the architect who designed it is utterly unknown.

This is the legend of the plan of the Cathedral of Cologne.

THE ERECTION.**

At the time the erection of this noble edifice commenced, an aqueduct was also planned, cotemporaneously with it, for the supply of the city with purer water than that of the Rhine. The architect of the cathedral was made aware of the circumstance, and asked his opinion of the result of the work by his brother architect of the aqueduct.

"By God!" said he, swearing out-for he was a swearing man — "thy little aqueduct will not be finished before my cathedral is completed."

Now, why did he say this? Because he, and he alone, knew the exact situation of the spring from which the water for that work was to be supplied. No; I had forgotten; his wife also knew it; for he had disclosed it to her, and enjoined her, on the peril of soul and body, not to reveal it to any one.

The erection of the cathedral proceeded rapidly; but the foundations of the aqueduct were not even laid, because a spring or source for its supply with water could not be discovered by its architect. Great was his grief and discontent at this; for he saw that his reputation would be ruined for ever if he was found unable to complete the work which he had planned. His wife, however, who was a prudent woman, bethought her of a means of saving her husband's reputation. Putting on her ruff and head-gear, she went on a visit to the house of the architect of the cathedral, at a time of the day when she

"Deutsche Sagen, von den Brüdern Grimm.” Berlin.

1818.