a "But it is ill talking with hungry guest; you need the refreshment which Gretchen has provided for you. I will speak with you afterwards on the subjects which touch the feelings." He then led me by the hand into the long hall, of which I have somewhat anticipated the description as resembling in shape that of the rambling inn of the previous evening. But as regards internal decoration, there was but little likeness, for this was picturesquely adorned with stag's horns and other trophies of the chase, a few pictures in oil, and some rather rude but expressive carvings of figures in woodwork, which had been so fastened against the walls as to seem part of the original structure. In the upper part of the room, beyond the screen, the walls were hung with faded tapestry, and the solid oak table was covered with a white cloth, on which wooden trenchers and a black leather jack formed an odd contrast to some other appendages to the dinner-table, which were of solid silver, burnished as brightly as Poynder, the butler at home, would have rubbed them up. Almost as we entered, a steaming soup was being brought in after me; and my uncle pointed to a high-backed chair, and bade me say my grace and eat with a good appetite, "and then rest, for our mountain air is sharp, and your ride has been a long one." And he added, "I at this moment have other duties." He opened a small door somewhat concealed by the tapestry, and at once hastened through it, to my surprise not alone; Ulric with noiseless step followed after him. The door through which they passed was the one which connected the modern building with the tower. When I had finished my repast, the housekeeper, dressed in the most unne I opened the casement, and saw the moon rising in another direction. The air was soft and balmy. The night was still. Early risers and early roosters, the neighbouring townspeople had almost all sought their rest. I, too, was much fatigued with my long ride. I sat down on the chair, and before I was undressed, fell asleep, and soundly. When I awoke, I was still fancying myself in a dream, so peaceful was the quiet beauty of that night. The moon then was "riding in her highest noon." All, however, was not hushed as it had been before my slumber. That wonderful symphony in Haydn's "Creation," which describes the rising of the first moon, was blending as it were with the silence, and seemed imparting to it the music of the spheres. I again crept in a sort of delicious awe to the window-sill. The sounds were stealing from some mellow organ in the old tower, and it was played by masterly hands. As my guide had said, Count Z. was no common musician. As the notes died away, I stood enrapt, like Milton's matchless description of our first parent after the Angel's converse, and "Thought him still speaking, Still stood fixed to hear." But it ended, as end all pleasant things on earth, and then I went to bed in the orthodox fashion, but not without a feeling of fervent thankfulness mingling with my usual prayer, that I had been allowed to reach so choice a harbour in my young life's voyage; and, full of an undescribed hope about the future, before many minutes was again asleep. It will perhaps be forgiven me that I did not soon awake, and I came down with a well-arranged little German speech for my uncle to apologise for my delay. It was a lost effort on my part. My breakfast was ready in a trice. But there was no host. Gretchen, the housekeeper, soon appeared to do the honours in his stead. The Count, she said, had gone on a long expedition, which he could not avoid; but toward evening he hoped to be again with me. He begged to be forgiven for any apparent want of courtesy, and indeed (the message ran) was himself to be pitied, inasmuch as he lost the pleasure of introducing nephew, who had travelled so far to see him, to the scenery of which he was so proud. But he was sure that I could enjoy much without him; and if I wished to go far into the Forest, Ulric, who knew every track in it, would gladly accompany me, and could easily be summoned. I gave a slight shudder at this proposal, and said, that no doubt there was quite sufficient in the immediate neighbourhood to occupy me until the Count's return, and that I should need no guide,perhaps she herself would show me some points of interest about the house, the old tower, the imme diate surroundings. She shook her head. No: my Count Z. would like himself to explain whatever there was of interest about the old tower and its curiosities; she would not attempt it. She hoped I had slept well in my chamber the first night, and was pleased with what I had seen. I replied that I had been delightfully refreshed, and was enchanted with a new world, into which I seemed to have been transported suddenly. I only could regret (this I believe I said somewhat haughtily, for already my vanity was somewhat piqued by his absence) that my uncle had found it necessary to leave me alone among its charms. "No doubt," she replied coldly, "the Count had thought it necessary, and what the Count ruled necessary was always right." "Has he gone on horseback?" I inquired carelessly, but in reality my curiosity was much aroused. "No," she answered; "you rode his favourite horse for the last two days, and the animal requires rest. "Really gone this long expedition on foot? Has he many neighbours whom he visits? Are there many castles in the vicinity of Triberg?" I remembered, as I spoke, the many comfortable country-houses near my old home, and the wellmade roads by which we had access to them. "The Count has no neighbours of his own station in life for many long miles from hence. The Duke of Baden owns all, indeed this castle and its privileges are granted to the Count only for a lifetime." "Has he a right, then, to pursue the game of the Forest?" "Yes; but he rarely avails himself of the licence. He only kills that which is necessary for his own table, or for special cases of sicknesses among the poor." "Sicknesses! and among the poor! What has the Count to do with either?" "Ah," said Gretchen, preparing to leave the room,-"you as yet little understand the Count, your uncle." "Stay," I said. "I must confess as yet I do not; but I should much like to do so,-and perhaps you might help. I really should. be much obliged if you would only say what has moved my uncle to go on this distant expedition on foot, on the first day on which he was to entertain his sister's son." Gretchen turned towards me more kindly, and said, "Sir Englishman, I believe you are not of the old faith; but the Count is, above all, a Christian, and he acts according to the precepts of the Saviour,-I might say, with reverence, according to His example." "I do not quite follow your words, though I hope I also am a Christian. How mean you?" There was something very solemn in the quiet dignity of her reply: "I mean that the Count goes about doing good." "Still I do not quite understand." "Ah, sir Englishman, and you will not till you catch something of the feeling which actuates your uncle. The people in this forest are very poor. The watchmakers of the town are rather better off than the woodmen and the charcoalburners; but even the town-people are sometimes poor enough, when the orders from Geneva, or Baden, or Munich come in slowly. But the peasants are at all times ill provided; and in sickness the want is terrible. Doctors, too, are scarce; and doctors are very costly when they can be found. The Count is gone to a family wellnigh crushed with sickness. He takes with him simple medicines a youth who came to entreat his presence carries wine VOL. CXXX.-NO. DCCXCI. "But," I said, "surely there are priests in every hamlet; is it not their function to do all that you say my uncle does?" Ah, he does nothing which the priest alone can do. But much which our priest cannot do he does; for remember our priests are poor -often poorer than those to whom they minister. They bless his work. They can do that, and they do it. Besides, if they could do more, do you learn in England that we laypeople are to sit still, and let the priests do all for us?" This was an unusual way of putting it. And certain home recollections of what was done, and what was left undone, in our neighbouring village (the living happened to be a very good one), made me feel a little uncomfortable. I thought I would not answer her question categorically, but endeavoured to turn the conversation. "Well," I said, "I suppose that I should do well to make an excursion by myself until the Count's return; and if I follow the course of the torrent, I could not surely lose my way, and can always retrace my steps,-and if you would allow me to take some of the pastry of cold roe venison, it may not be amiss. With my book and my sketch-book, I can easily amuse myself." And so the good woman busied herself at once to fill a satchel, taken down from the wall, with certain palatable food; and I selected a strong iron-pointed walkingstick from a heap of others, and was preparing to depart, with a German leave-taking, when I saw that the woman was looking at me 2 A with some earnestness, which made me hesitate. 66 "Yes," she said, "the torrent leads down the long straggling street, and when you reach the bottom of the valley, turn with the stream to the right: it will take you to the valley of Nussbach (Nutbrook). Thence a well-trodden path will take you up to the common; and at a cottage near to the common you will find some one to direct your way back. It is for tunate for you that you know so much of our mother talk: but should you really not wish to have Ulric for your guide?" "No," I exclaimed impatiently, "the less I see of that odious man the better. I wonder why my uncle tolerates such a person near him!" My looks as well as my words must have betrayed my singular dislike of such a companion, for the housekeeper continued with a real accent of warning, as one already interested in my welfare. "Ah! beware, then, how to-day you come across the spring of St. Boniface, for it will not quench your thirst." I hardly stayed to hear and before I had time to ask for an explanation, the postern-door was closed, and she was gone. CHAPTER IX. THE SPRING OF ST. BONIFACE. A long flight of irregular stone steps soon led me to the top of the main street, which I examined with no small curiosity. Much of it was built of wood. Some of the houses hung over the brawling torrent, which continued to rage down its steep but no longer precipitous channel. In the windows of some of the houses were displayed specimens of watches, and of carved wooden clocks, some of which sounded "cuckoo" when I stopped to look at them; and whenever I listened attentively, a whirring noise of wheels and workmanship could be always heard. It was indeed a city of clockmakers—and there seemed no waste of time. The lesson of their trade seemed to be, that every minute of it was precious. I was, however, struck with one shop, which had an artificial bird only in the window, and I paused to examine the structure of its ingenious and gay feathers. As I did so, the bird opened its beak and played a pathetic German air. It was the very present for my mother. I was just about to rush in and inquire the price of it, however large, when I looked up, and saw written in clear characters over the window, "Here orders can be taken for Ulric Schmerz the clockmaker," and with a swing I hurried on, feeling, and I suspect looking, very illhumoured. Ulric must have watched me, for he too passed me in haste, and with a corresponding look expressive of much dislike, without any salutation, went in at the entrance which I had left so abruptly. I wandered down the deep street, determined on shaping my course by the guidance of the torrent, whichever way it might lead me: but it was some time before I found myself beyond the reach of the houses, and once more on its banks. The Fallbach had swept round to the right, checked by the mountain which rose at the foot of the valley leading to it; and now it was watering another picturesque gorge, through which, after a few hours' rush, it must, I thought, be sobered down into the solemn beginnings of the young Danube: and I thought, too, how soon its cheerful merry nature would be tamed down when it assumed the proportion of a useful navigable river. An excellent road skirted the present mountain valley. The air was hot and sultry, but a fresh highland breeze seemed to follow the course of the stream; and I walked in a delicious dream, through beautiful scenery. I In half an hour I found myself in a rough picturesque village, very dirty, but supplying excellent materials for my sketch-book. sat down here and there, still within sound of flowing waters, and added little fragments of pencil reminiscences,-there they are before me as I am now writing,and before long I was in front of the church. It did not seem very old, I learnt afterwards that the old one had been almost totally destroyed in the peasant war,-nor did it seem at all interesting. I looked in and saw one very aged woman telling her beads, in the sanctity of her solitude. Her appearance and her devotion touched me; but for the rest all seemed to me a tawdry exhibition of an enthralling superstition, and the chapel wall was hung about with coarse votive offerings of the lowest character of taste. I hastily retreated and busied myself in drawing an old carved stone near the western door, which alone spoke to me of the early Christianity of the country. The drawing did not occupy many minutes, but as I finished and turned away, anxious to escape from the burning sunshine to a path which promised to lead me across a green meadow, I saw that I had been watched by a priest-perhaps, I thought, the vil lage priest. But whoever he was, he came up to me very civilly, and though his voice was somewhat rough, and his manner not over refined, I quickly found that I had to deal with one of much sense and piety. As soon as he had learnt that I was not only the guest but the nephew of Count Z., he redoubled his civilities, and asked if he could do me any service. "Only this," I replied,-" to tell me if I could not return to the Tower-house by some other road, that in this hot sun would be cooler and pleasanter even than that by which I came hither. I was told there was one; and moreover, I wish to see all I can of your beautiful and uncommon country." "Not a stranger only but an artist also, I can see," replied my new friend. "Well, if you do not mind the climb of yon steep forestside, there is no more inviting walk in the neighbourhood than that over the common, by which, if you will allow me the honour". and he raised his three-cornered hat as he spoke,-"I shall hope to conduct you back to the Count's residence." I I wished for nothing better. was somewhat tired of my own company, and this man's experience was exactly what I wanted to instruct me on many points on which my curiosity had been roused. Besides, if only as a guide, his companionship would be invaluable. I gladly accepted the proposal, and in a few minutes we had crossed the little meadow, and were mounting the forest-side. was a somewhat more severe toil than I had expected. But the pines were umbrageous as well as stately, and the heat of the day drew out from them a delicious fragrance. It We had gained a considerable elevation above the valley when |
