ite doe had appeared to him first. The countess often
made a pilgrimage to this house of God, to thank Him who had caused
her tears to be turned into joy. Then a day came when her corpse was
carried into the forest, and was buried in the church. Even now in
Laach, the wanderer is shown the church and the tombstone, also the
cavern where she suffered so much. Thus the name of St. Genovefa will
last to all time.

HAMMERSTEIN

The old Knight and his Daughters

[Illustration: Am Sarge Kaiser Heinrich IV.--Nach dem Gemaelde von
L. Rosenfelder--Zur Sage von der Burg Hammerstein]

Above Rheinbrohl, on a dreary sandstone rock, stand the ruins of the
old imperial fortress of Hammerstein. For a thousand years the storms
have beat on those desolate walls. One of the first owners was Wolf
von Hammerstein, a faithful vassal of the Emperor. It was Henry IV.
who then ruled, and partly by his own faults, partly by those of
others, the crown had indeed become to this sovereign one of thorns.
Wolf of Hammerstein had made the historic pilgrimage to Canossa alone
with his master. Now, on account of the infirmities of age the
venerable knight seldom descended the castle-hill, and only from afar,
the loud trumpet call of the world fell upon his ears. His wife, now
for several years deceased, had born him six daughters, all attractive
maidens and tenderly attached to their surviving parent, but their
filial affection met with the roughest and most ungrateful responses
from the sour old fellow. It was a sore grievance to Wolf of
Hammerstein that he had no son. He would willingly have exchanged his
halfdozen daughters for a single male heir. The girls were only too
well aware of this fact, and tried all the more, by constant love and
tender care to reconcile their ungracious parent to his lot.

One evening it thus befell. The autumn wind grumbled round the castle
like a croaking raven, and the old knight, Wolf of Hammerstein, sat by
a cheerful fire and peevishly nursed his gouty limbs. In spite of the
most assiduous attentions of his daughters he remained in a most surly
mood. The pretty maidens however kept hovering round the ill-tempered
old fellow like so many tender doves. Then the porter announced two
strangers. Both were wrapped in their knightly mantles, and in spite
of his troubles the hospitable lord of the castle prepared to welcome
his guests. Into the comfortable room two shivering and weary
travellers advanced, and as