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German Prolusions, No. I.—The Grateful Ghost.
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fell into his hands. Heretofore, he had never troubled himself very much with them; it had always been an irksome task, even to look into them; but now they became of importance. He turned over the leaves, and found large arrears of bad debts: his resolution was immediately taken. He determined to set forth and seek the persons who owed these debts; he hoped, by a touching description of his own misfortunes, so far to work upon their feelings, that they would at least pay some portion of them; and then he would again be able to carry on business in a small way. This cheering prospect, animated him; he made immediate preparations; bought a saddle-horse; packed his saddle-bags; ordered a prayer to be put up in the cathedral for a young traveller, beseeching an auspicious issue to his journey; and rode away.

The principal debtors were merchants, who resided at Antwerp; and thither he directed his steps. A journey from Bremen to Antwerp in those days, when the roads were beset with robbers, and every knight considered himself at liberty to plunder, and incarcerate in the dungeons of his castle, any traveller not duly provided with a safety-pass, was a more dangerous undertaking than it would be now to go from Bremen to Kamschatka. Francis, nevertheless, journeyed safely till he reached the middle of Westphalia. Here one sultry day, he rode till sunset through a wild desolate tract of country, without seeing a habitation of any kind. Suddenly, a dreadful thunder-storm came on, accompanied with a deluge of rain, which soon drenched him to the skin. Far and near he cast his eyes around; but he could discover no friendly roof. Night came on; and the dark clouds rolled so thickly over the heavens, that he could not discern an object at the distance of two paces.

The delicate Francis, who from his infancy had been accustomed to every effeminate indulgence, was ill calculated to encounter hardships like these, and he began to ruminate, with many bitter forebodings, upon the manner in which he should probably have to pass the night. In the midst of these gloomy reflections, to his infinite consolation, he perceived a distant light; it served him as a guide in making immediately for it; and he found that it issued from a miserable hovel.

He knocked at the door, entreating to be admitted. But the man who lived there was a surly fellow, who, without opening the door, answered from within—“There is no room here for travellers—I have hardly room enough for myself, much less for strangers.”—Francis renewed his entreaties most imploringly. He represented what a dreadful night it was; said, he only wished for a safe shelter, and assured him he would gladly reward him. But the brute made no further answer; extinguished his light; and laid himself down upon his straw.

Francis, however, did not cease his importunities outside, and as the man could get no sleep, he endeavoured to ged rid of his visitor. “Hark’ee, countryman,” said he, “if you would have snug quarters, ride on about a quarter of a mile further to the left, through the wood; you will come to the castle of the bold knight Bronkhorst; he is always ready to give shelter to travellers; only sometimes he is fond of indulging in a foolish whim, that of soundly thrashing them, when they take their leave. If this dislike you not, you will find yourself comfortable enough there.”

Francis bethought himself a moment, for the said leave-taking was not exactly to his fancy. But what was to be done? He must either pass the night, stormy as it was, in the open air, or run the risk, for once, of that same thrashing. The latter seemed preferable. Besides, it was not certain the knight would indulge in his joke. He sprung forward therefore, and soon found himself before the massy gates of the castle. As he knocked, the warder, in a hoarse loud voice, called out, “Who is there?”

“A traveller who has lost his way, and wishes for shelter from the inclemency of the weather,” answered Francis.

“If you are willing to comply with the custom of the place, the door shall be opened to you,” replied the warder in the same growling tone.

Francis promised, and immediately the enormous gate rolled back. Servants came forth to help him to alight, to take charge of his saddle-bags, to lead his horse into the stable, and to conduct