could not shut the door against our intruding visitor.

"_Was thust du? Na, na! Draus, draus, Kloane_!" ("What dost thou? No,
no! Out with thee, little one!"), said a voice in the passage; and
a short man, with a good-natured, half-foolish face, after releasing
himself from a heavily-laden basket which he carried on his back,
walked through the passage and out of the farther door, attended by
the pig, who lovingly rubbed his snout against him. The stranger knelt
down at one of the shattered windows of the chapel, his four-footed
companion standing patiently by him, until the orison was over and
the worshipers trooped out of the little chapel. Then the knowing pig
trotted off to his own quarters, whilst one voice exclaimed, "You are
back again, Seppl?"

"You've not forgotten my bread?" said a second.

"You've brought me the knitting needles?" said a third.

"You left the letter at the Lamb and Flag?" added a fourth.

This, then, was the master, evidently the common messenger of all,
who, whilst the guests called him behind his back "Headless Seppl,"
had managed to fulfill two dozen verbal commissions to everybody's
satisfaction. This was the landlord, whom we had pictured lying in a
drunken lethargy in some hay barn after the bout of the night before.
How we had maligned an evidently simple, honest soul, who had been
toiling from early morning, and who, having discharged the orders of
his different customers, started up the steep mountain-side, and we
heard him calling "_Koos, koos, koos_," lovingly to his cows! It was
only when he had milked them, patted them, called each by its name,
seen them comfortably housed for the night, that he had time to think
of resting or eating his dumplings for supper.

It was the fourth morning of our stay, and we were preparing to leave.
Seppl's basket was already packed with our belongings, and he, the
good beast of burden, had orders in half an hour to act as our guide,
when suddenly Moidel flew out of the kitchen, exclaiming, "He is
coming! he is coming!" and wiping her arms on her apron rushed down
the green meadows beyond the chapel. Fraeulein Magdalena, dropping her
work, uttered a joyful cry. "Yes, it is he! it's Herr Pflersch!" she
said, turning to us. "The king of Bad Scharst. Ah! why don't you stay,
for glorious days will begin? I've been here eleven years at the same
time as Herr Pflersch, and we have none of us gone to bed for seven
days together. We play at cards and