when he met a black figure, whom
he greeted in God's name; but the figure moved on, making no answer as
a Christian would have done. He had not gone much farther up the wood
when he met a second black form. Crossing himself, Josef spoke out
boldly a 'God greet you!' but again silence. The figure had vanished.
Josef crossed himself and prayed. Nevertheless, he met a third, and,
waxing bold, not only greeted him, but turning round looked fixedly
at the black figure to see whether it were sorcerer, gypsy, ghost or
witch. And there, behold! it stood, grown as tall as a tree, grinning
at Josef until he thought it best to escape. Next day the black cow
went dry: otherwise you might say that Josef's hobgoblins were fir
trees."

Whilst Jakob laughed at Josef's phantoms, he could not help telling
us in his turn a tale which he considered much more noteworthy: "There
was no denying that one winter's night a huntsman, losing himself in
the deep snow, took refuge in a forsaken senner-hut. Content to suffer
hunger if only thus sheltered for the night, he was shortly surprised
by the entrance of a black man, who not only welcomed him to the
hut, but proposed cooking him some supper; an offer most thankfully
accepted. Upon this, the black man lighted a fire, suddenly produced
a frying-pan, which had been invisible before, and began cooking
strauben and cream pancakes from equally hidden stores. When supper
was ready the huntsman begged the good-natured black cook to sit down
and eat with him; and a very hearty meal he seemed to make, although,
to the surprise of the huntsman, the food turned as black as a cinder
before it entered his mouth. Both men lay down to rest; and after a
comfortable sleep the hunter, rising up to go, thanked the black man
for his kind hospitality, adding, 'May God reward you!' 'Oh,' replied
the other, uttering a great sigh of relief, 'may God in His mercy
equally reward you for those words! When I walked on the earth I
laughed at religion: I was therefore sent back in the spirit to toil
until some mortal should thank me in God's name for what I had done
for him. This you have done, and now I am free;' and so saying he
vanished."

"Yes," said Moidel, "these tales are as true as the gospel. You know
Nanni, the maid who sings so sweetly? Her father some years since went
on a pilgrimage with two other peasants to Maria Zell. Arriving
late one night at a solitary farm-house, they rapped at the door,
requesting