but too good excuse, I retired early to rest, leaving the
assembled guests to pump the old fisherman, which they did to their
hearts' content, and to talk over my adventures at leisure.

A servant awoke me before dawn. A carriage and post-horses stood at
the door, and after I had made a hearty breakfast, my worthy host put
into my hand a letter of introduction to his brother magistrate at
B----. I bade him farewell with many sincere and hearty thanks,
entered the carriage with my companion, and drove off. The distance we
had to go may have been about fifty English miles; but the roads were
in such wretched condition, and the cattle, which we changed seven
times, of such an abominable breed, that night had fallen upon the
town of B---- before we entered it. I drove at once to the little
_gasthof_, where, three days before, at the same hour, I had put up
upon my arrival. The landlord bustled out to receive me as the
carriage stopped at the door; but though I identified him immediately,
he shewed not the slightest symptom of recognising me. I told the
driver to wait, and beckoning the old fisherman to follow, demanded to
be shewn into a private room, and to be favoured with the landlord's
company. He obeyed with the utmost alacrity, and taking a lamp from
the hand of an attendant, led the way to a small room on the first
floor.

'Well, Herr Bernstein,' I said, 'are you not glad to see me back
again?'

'Most happy to see you, gracious sir,' said he; 'but have not the
honour to recollect your gracious person.'

'Indeed! An Englishman, on a black horse, put up here three days ago
at this hour--surely you recollect that?'

'Ah, too well I recollect that. Poor English gentleman--a countryman
of yours, perhaps a friend--ah! dear God! drowned--unhappy
man--carried away by the river in the morning before any of us were
up.' Here he wrung his hands in evident sorrow: 'Ah, that stupid
Grute! why did he let the gentleman bathe in the Danube?'

'Stop!' said I; 'let me put an end to your regret--_I_ am that
Englishman!'

'You--you!' cried he, as he staggered back into a seat. 'But it cannot
be--it is impossible. I do not recollect you: you are deceiving me!
Sir, it is a cruel jest.'

'It is no jest,' said I; 'Heaven be praised. Where is Grute, as you
call him? He will tell you whether it is a jest.'

Grute was the filthy stableman; and the landlord, half-dreaming, ran
off to fetch him--a most unfortunate circumstance, as it