ht troubles on the peasant, but he firmly
believed that through the intercession of St. Cassius he would receive
money enough in one way or another to enable him to pay his many
debts.

On arriving at Kreuzberg, he began his religious exercises by
confessing his sins to one of the monks belonging to the order of St.
Francis. Then according to custom he knelt in succession on one sacred
step after the other till he reached the chapel. His wife had
carefully put a candle in his pocket which he now lighted before the
image of St. Cassius. Having thus fulfilled all the duties prescribed
by the church, he turned homewards, well content with himself.

When he crossed the principal square of the town, where already at the
time the magnificent Minster stood, he entered this church to pray
once more, and to put another coin into the poor-box.

Twilight was creeping through the aisles, and a pilgrimage being not
at all an easy thing, our peasant soon fell asleep over his
prayer-book.

He only awoke, when, somebody pulled him by his sleeve. It was the
sexton with a big bunch of keys.

At first the peasant gazed drowsily at the unwelcome intruder, then
with astonished eyes he looked round about him, until at last it
dawned upon him, that he must get up and leave the church. Rousing
himself he made the sign of the cross, and left the Minster with
tottering steps. The night winds rustled in the old limetrees of the
square and seemed to whisper strange tales into the ears of the late
wanderer.

The peasant crossed the open space sulkily, and steered his way
towards the Sternthor, which led to Dransdorf. An ancient Roman tower,
the remains of the high fortifications erected by the soldiers of
Drusus eighteen hundred years ago, stands in the narrow lane, leading
from the minster-square to the Sternthor. To the tired wanderer this
tower seemed a splendid shelter, all the more so, as it would not cost
him a penny.

He entered it, and tired out with the weary day, he was soon fast
asleep as if he had never been stirred up from the bench in the
Minster. No sexton with noisy keys was to be feared, and yet in his
sleep the countryman had the sensation of somebody tapping him on the
shoulder. He sat up and looked round. To his amazement he beheld a
magnificent warrior standing before him, clad in a coat of mail with a
Roman helmet on his head. Two companions in similar array stood by his
side.

They nodded genially down to him, and