Down deep in the tangled dell--
Or o'er the steep rock's pinnacle.
Staunch the steed, and bold the knight
That would follow such a flight!"


The night was fast closing in, and the last retiring beams of the sun
shed a mournful light over an extensive tract of forest bordering upon
the district of the Hartz, just as (but I must not forget the date,
somewhere about the year 1547,) the Baron Rudolf found himself in the
very disagreeable predicament of having totally lost his companions and
his way, amidst an almost interminable region of forest and brushwood.
"Hans," addressing himself to his noble steed, "my old veteran, I must
trust to thee, since thy master's wit is at a stand, to extricate us
from this dilemma."

The animal finding his head free, moved forward as fast as bush and
brake would permit him. They had proceeded in this way for half an hour
longer, when the Baron at last bethought himself of his bugle, and wound
a long and powerful blast; but the echo was the only answer he received.
He repeated the sound with the like effect. Again the Baron lost his
patience, and "Der terefel--" when all at once his steed made a dead
stop, and pricked up his ears as at some well known sound. The Baron
listened attentively, and distinctly heard the blast he had sounded ten
minutes before, responded by one so exactly similar, though apparently
at a great distance, that he could scarcely believe the "evidence" of
his ears. "By the mass but that must be the work of Mynheer von
Heidelberger himself, for no one in my own broad barony can wind that
blast save Rudolf Wurtzheim." He shrunk within himself at the very
thought; for to any one it was rather appalling to meet this being at