ful Liba stayed by his side, and
when he had partially recovered the knight told her the story of the
spectre, and added that when the priest had joined their hands he had
imagined that the ghost had put her cold hand in his. Liba attempted
to soothe her repentant lover, and sent for a priest to finish the
interrupted wedding ceremony. This concluded, Guntram embraced his wife,
received absolution, and expired.

Liba entered a convent, and a few years later she herself passed away,
and was buried by the side of her husband.

The Mouse Tower

Bishop Hatto is a figure equally well known to history and tradition,
though, curiously enough, receiving a much rougher handling from the
latter than the former. History relates that Hatto was Archbishop of
Mainz in the tenth century, being the second of his name to occupy that
see. As a ruler he was firm, zealous, and upright, if somewhat ambitious
and high-handed, and his term of office was marked by a civic peace not
always experienced in those times. So much for history. According to
tradition, Hatto was a stony-hearted oppressor of the poor, permitting
nothing to stand in the way of the attainment of his own selfish ends,
and several wild legends exhibit him in a peculiarly unfavourable light.

By far the most popular of these traditions is that which deals with
the Maeuseturm, or 'Mouse Tower,' situated on a small island in the
Rhine near Bingen. It has never been quite decided whether the name was
bestowed because of the legend, or whether the legend arose on account
of the name, and it seems at least probable that the tale is of
considerably later date than the tenth century. Some authorities regard
the word Maeuseturm as a corruption of Mauth-turm, a 'toll-tower,' a
probable but prosaic interpretation. Much more interesting is the name
'Mouse Tower,' which gives point to the tragic tale of Bishop Hatto's
fate. The story cannot be better told than in the words of Southey, who
has immortalized it in the following ballad:

THE TRADITION OF BISHOP HATTO

The summer and autumn had been so wet,
That in winter the corn was growing yet;
'Twas a piteous sight to see all around
The grain lie rotting on the ground.

Every day the starving poor
Crowded around Bishop Hatto's door,
For he had a plentiful last-year's store,
And all the neighbourhood could tell
His granaries were furnished well.

At last Bishop Hatto appoi