THE KNIGHT OF KLETTENBERG.

COUNT ERNEST, of Klettenberg, once rode at speed upon a fine Sunday morning, not to Church, but to meet a large convivial party, assembled at Elrick. A number of knights had been invited; for it was a hard drinking match, and a golden chain was the prize for him who could stand up last, to decorate himself with its honours.

Many hours did these wine-proof knights remain unvanquished, until victory finally began to show itself less doubtful; and first one and then another champion fell overpowered,

and were borne from the scene of action. There soon were only four champions left to contend with each other; and at last Ernest of Klettenberg stood upright upon his feet, while the three lay senseless at his side, and victoriously snatching the gold chain which lay upon the table, he shook it high in the air, and hung it round his neck.

In order to exhibit himself, as sole victor over all his competitors, he walked out of the room, and ordered his horse.

As he rode apace through the suburbs, he heard the good priests ringing for vespers, and, as he got nearer, the choir were chanting hymns. It was in the church of St. Nicholas; and the knight of Klettenberg rode through the gates, and away through the open church-doors, till he arrived opposite the altar, before the whole congregation. The hymn of devotion suddenly ceased, and was converted into a cry of terror and surprise. On rode Count Ernest, as if nothing unusual had occurred; but his crime was not long suffered to go unpunished. For spurring onwards up the steps of the altar, awful to relate, the horse's four shoes fell from his feet, and down he sunk, deeper and deeper, with his rider, and was seen no more. As a memorial of this event, and an eternal warning to all impious and sacrilegious men, the four horseshoes were nailed fast to the church door, where they long remained, and were admired for ages, no less on account of their immense size, than for the dreadful tradition connected with them.

102

THE DEAN OF SANTIAGO.

Ir was but a short hour before noon when the dean of Santiago alighted from his mule at the door of Don Julian the celebrated magician of Toledo. The house, according to old tradition, stood on the brink of the perpendicular rock, which, now crowned with the Alcázar, rises to a fearful height over the Tagus. A Moorish maid led the dean to a retired apartment, where the magician was reading. "I heartily greet your reverence," said Don Julian to the dean, "and feel highly honoured by this visit. Whatever be the object of it, let me beg you will defer stating it till I have made you at home in this house. I hear my housekeeper making ready the noonday meal."

The dinner, which soon followed, was elegant enough to please the most fastidious palate-abundant, nutritive, and delicate. The time came at length of rising from table, and in spite of Don Julian's pressing request to have another bottle, the dean, with a certain dignity of manner, led his good-natured host to the recess of an oriel window, looking upon the river." Allow me, dear Don Julian," he said, "to open my heart to you; for even your hospitality must fail to make me completely happy till I have obtained the boon which I came to ask. I know that no man ever possessed greater power than you over the invisible agents of the universe. I long to become an adept in that wonderful science, and if you will receive me for your pupil, there is nothing I should think of sufficient worth to repay your friendship.”—“ Good

Sir," replied Don Julian, "I should be extremely loth to offend you; but permit me to say, that, in spite of the knowledge of causes and effects which I have acquired, all that my experience teaches me of the heart of man is not only vague and indistinct, but for the most part unfavourable. I only guess, I cannot read their thoughts, nor pry into the recesses of their minds. As for yourself, I think you likely to obtain the first dignities of the Church. But whether, when you find yourself in places of high honour and patronage, you will remember the humble personage of whom you now ask a hazardous and important service, it is impossible for me to ascertain."-66 Nay, nay," exclaimed the dean, "but I know myself, if you do not, Don Julian. Generosity and friendship (since you force me to speak in my own praise) have been the delight of my soul even from childhood. Doubt not, my dear friend, (for by that name I wish you would allow me to call you,) doubt not, from this moment, to command my services. Whatever interest I may possess, it will be my highest gratification to see it exercised in favour of you and yours." hearty thanks for all, worthy Sir," said Don Julian. let us now proceed to business: the sun is set, and, if you please, we will retire to my private study."

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Lights being called for, Don Julian led the way to the lower part of the house; and dismissing his maid near a small door, of which he held the key in his hand, desired her to get two partridges for supper, but not to dress them till he should order it then unlocking the door, he began to descend by a winding staircase. The dean followed with a certain degree of trepidation, which the length of the stairs greatly tended to increase; for, to all appearance they reached below the bed