much mutiny still abroad, and the new Kaiser Rudolf very busy.

Otto's Wife, all streaming in tears, and flaming in zeal, what
shall she do? "Sell your jewels," so advises a certain old Johann
von Buch, discarded Ex-official: "Sell your jewels, Madam; bribe
the Canons of Magdeburg with extreme secrecy, none knowing of his
neighbor; they will consent to ransom on terms possible. Poor Wife
bribed as was bidden; Canons voted as they undertook; unanimous
for ransom,--high, but humanly possible. Markgraf Otto gets out on
parole. But now, How raise such a ransom, our very jewels being
sold? Old Johann von Buch again indicates ways and means,--
miraculous old gentleman:--Markgraf Otto returns, money in hand;
pays, and is solemnly discharged. The title of the sum I could
give exact; but as none will in the least tell me what the value
is, I humbly forbear.

"We are clear, then, at this date?" said Markgraf Otto from his
horse, just taking leave of the Magdeburg Canonry. "Yes," answered
they.--"Pshaw, you don't know the value of a Markgraf!" said Otto.
"What is it, then?"--"Rain gold ducats on his war-horse and him,"
said Otto, looking up with a satirical grin, "till horse and
Markgraf are buried in them, and you cannot see the point of his
spear atop!"--That would be a cone of gold coins equal to the
article, thinks our Markgraf; and rides grinning away. [Michaelis,
i. 271; Pauli, i. 316; Kloss; &c.]--The poor Archbishop, a valiant
pious man, finding out that late strangely unanimous vote of his
Chapter for ransoming the Markgraf, took it so ill, that he soon
died of a broken heart, say the old Books. Die he did, before
long;--and still Otto's Brother was refused as successor. Brother,
however, again survived; behaved always wisely; and Otto at last