pursued the remorseless bishop, ceaselessly following him in his every
effort to escape their avenging teeth. At length the wretched sinner,
driven to despair, fled for safety to a strong tower standing in the
middle of the Rhine, near Bingen, with the belief that the water would
protect him from his swarming foes. But the mice swam the stream,
invaded the tower, and devoured the miserable fugitive. As evidence of
the truth of this story we are shown the tower, still standing, and
still known as the Mäusethurm, or Mouse Tower. It must be said, however,
that this tradition probably refers to another Bishop Hatto, of
somewhat later date. Its utterly fabulous character, of course, will be
recognisable by all.

So much for Bishop Hatto and his fate. It may be said, in conclusion,
that his period was one of terror and excitement in Germany, sufficient
perhaps to excuse the overturning of ideas, and the replacement of
conceptions of truth and honor by their opposites. The wild Magyars had
invaded and taken Hungary, and were making savage inroads into Germany
from every quarter. The resistance was obstinate, the Magyars were
defeated in several severe battles, yet still their multitudes swarmed
over the borders, and carried terror and ruin wherever they came. These
invaders were as ferocious in disposition, as fierce in their onsets, as
invincible through contempt of death, and as formidable through their
skilful horsemanship, as the Huns had been before them. So rapid were
their movements, and so startling the suddenness with which they would
appear in and vanish from the heart of the country, that the terrified
people came to look upon them as possessed of supernatural powers. Their
inhuman love of slaughter and their destructive habits added to the
terror with which they were viewed. They are said to have been so
bloodthirsty, that in their savage feasts after victory they used as
tables the corpses of their enemies slain in battle. It is further said