intention of remaining there for two or three
years. He soon became acquainted with my
mother's parents, and between him and them
acquaintance ripened into friendship. They met
constantly, and liked each other more and more.
Knowing the count's intentions respecting his
stay in Switzerland, my grandmother was much
surprised by receiving from him one morning a
short hurried note, informing her that urgent
and unexpected business obliged him to return
that very day to Germany. He added, that he
was very sorry to go, but that he must go; and
he ended by bidding her farewell, and hoping
they might meet again some day. He quitted
Vevay that evening, and nothing more was
heard of him or his mysterious business.

A few years after this departure, my
grandmother and one of her sons went to spend some
time at Hamburg. Count R., hearing that they
were there, went to see them, and brought them
to his castle of Breitenburg, where they were
to stay a few days. It was a wild but beautiful
district, and the castle, a huge pile, was a relic
of the feudal times, which, like most old places
of the sort, was said to be haunted. Never
having heard the story upon which this belief
was founded, my grandmother entreated the
count to tell it. After some little hesitation
and demur, he consented:

"There is a room in this house," he began, "in
which no one is ever able to sleep. Noises are
heard in it continually, which have never been
accounted for, and which sound like the ceaseless
turning over and upsetting of furniture. I
have had the room emptied, I have had the old
floor taken up and a new one laid down, but
nothing would stop the noises. At last, in
despair, I had it walled up. The story attached
to the room is this:

"Some hundreds of years ago, there lived in
this castle a countess, whose charity to the poor
and kindness to all people were unbounded.
She was known far and wide as 'the good
Countess R.,' and everybody loved her. The
room in question was her room. One night,
she was awakened from her sleep by a voice
near her; and looking out of bed, she saw, by
the faint light of her lamp, a little tiny man,
about a foot in height, standing near her
bedside. She was greatly surprised, but he spoke,
and said, 'Good Countess of R., I have come
to ask you to be godmother to my child. Will
you consent?' She said she would, and he
told her that he would come and fetch her in a
few days, to attend the christening; with those
words he vanished out of the room.

"Next morning, recollecting the incidents of
the night, the countess came to the conclusion
that she had had an odd dream, and thought
no more of the matter. But, about a fortnight
afterwards, when she had well-nigh forgotten
the dream, she was again roused at the same
hour and by the same small individual, who said
he had come to claim the fulfilment of her
promise. She rose, dressed herself, and followed
her tiny guide down the stairs of the castle.
In the centre of the court-yard there was, and
still is, a large square well, very deep, and
stretching underneath the building nobody
knew how far. Having reached the side of this
well, the little man blindfolded the countess,
and bidding her not fear, but follow him,
descended some unknown stairs. This was for
the countess a strange and novel position, and
she felt uncomfortable; but she determined at
all hazards to see the adventure to the end, and
descended bravely. They reached the bottom,
and when her guide removed the bandage
from her eyes, she found herself in a room full
of small people like himself. The christening was
performed, the countess stood godmother, and at
the conclusion of the ceremony, as the lady was
about to say good-by, the mother of the baby
took a handful of wood shavings which lay in a
corner, and put them into her visitor's apron.

"'You have been very kind, good Countess
of R.,' she said, 'in coming to be godmother to
my child, and your kindness shall not go
unrewarded. When you rise to-morrow, these
shavings will have turned into metal, and out of
them you must immediately get made, two fishes
and thirty silberlingen (a German coin). When
you get them back, take great care of them, for
so long as they all remain in your family everything
will prosper with you; but, if one of them
ever gets lost, then you will have troubles without
end.' The countess thanked her, and bade
them all farewell. Having again covered her
eyes, the little man led her out of the well, and
landed her safe in her own court-yard, where he
removed the bandage, and she never saw him more.

"Next morning the countess awoke with a
confused notion of some extraordinary dream.
While at her toilet, she recollected all the
incidents quite plainly, and racked her brain for
some cause which might account for it. She
was so employed when, stretching out her
hand for her apron, she was astounded to find it
tied up, and, within the folds, a number of
metal shavings. How came they there? Was
it a reality? Had she not dreamed of the
little man and the christening? She told
the story to the members of her family at
breakfast, who all agreed that whatever the
token might mean, it should not be
disregarded. It was therefore settled that the
fishes and the silberlingen should be made, and
carefully kept among the archives of the family.
Time passed; everything prospered with the
house of R. The King of Denmark loaded
them with honours and benefits, and gave the
count high office in his household. For many
years all went well with them.

"Suddenly, to the consternation of the family,
one of the fishes disappeared, and, though
strenuous efforts were made to discover what
had become of it, they all failed. From this
time everything went wrong. The count then
living, had two sons; while out hunting together,
one killed the other; whether accidentally or
not, is uncertain, but, as the youths were known
to be perpetually disagreeing, the case seemed
doubtful. This was the beginning of sorrows.
The king, hearing what had occurred, thought