a heavy fall of snow began. Twice the driver lost his way,
and daylight was gone before he had well recovered it; darkness came on
sooner than in other places, walled in as they were by dark mountains,
with dark clouds above their heads. It was out of the question to dream
of reaching Blumenberg that night; but in this hospitable land, where
every house-holder welcomes the passing traveler, Edward was under no
anxiety as to shelter. He only wished, before the night quite set in, to
reach some country house or castle; and now that the storm had abated in
some degree, that the heavens were a little clearer, and that a few
stars peeped out, a large valley opened before them, whose bold outline
Edward could distinguish, even in the uncertain light. The well-defined
roofs of a neat village were perceptible, and behind these, half-way up
the mountain that crowned the plain, Edward thought he could discern a
large building which glimmered with more than one light. The road led
straight into the village. Edward stopped and inquired.

That building was, indeed, a castle; the village belonged to it, and
both were the property of the Baron Friedenberg. "Friedenberg!" repeated
Edward: the name sounded familiar to him, yet he could not call to mind
when and where he had heard it. He inquired if the family were at home,
hired a guide, and arrived at length, by a rugged path which wound
itself round steep rocks, to the summit of them, and finally to the
castle, which was perched there like an eagle's nest. The tinkling of
the bells on Edward's sledge attracted the attention of the inmates; the
door was opened with prompt hospitality--servants appeared with torches;
Edward was assisted to emerge from under the frozen apron of his
carriage, out of his heavy pelisse, stiff with hoar frost, and up a
comfortable staircase into a long saloon of simple construction, where a
genial warmth appeared to welcome him from a spacious stove in the
corner. The servants here placed two large burning candles in massive
silver sconces, and went out to announce the stranger.

The fitting-up of the room, or rather saloon, was perfectly simple.
Family portraits, in heavy frames, hung round the walls, diversified by
some maps. Magnificent stags' horns were arranged between; and the taste
of the master of the house was easily detected in the hunting-knives,
powder-flasks, carbines, smoking-bags, and sportsmen's pouches, which
were arranged, not without tast