many lands I have wandered through, I carried with me the curse of my
birth. At every turn it met me, aggravating my numerous hardships,
embittering my rare moments of joy. If I entered a room where a
cheerful party was assembled, all rose and shrunk from me as from one
plague-tainted. They were twelve--I was the Thirteenth. If I sat down
at a dinner-table, my neighbour left his chair, and the others would
say, 'He fears to sit by you. You are the Thirteenth.' If I slept at
an inn--there were sure to be twelve persons sleeping there; my bed
was the Thirteenth, or my room would be number Thirteen, and I was
told that the former landlord had shot or hung himself in it.

"At length I left Germany, in the vain hope that the spell would not
extend beyond the land of my birth. I took ship at Trieste for Venice.
Scarcely were we out of port when a violent storm arose, and we were
driven rapidly towards a rocky and dangerous coast. The steersman
counted the seamen and passengers, and crossed himself. We were
_thirteen_.

"Lots were drawn who should be sacrificed for the salvation of the
others. I drew number thirteen, and they put me ashore on a barren
rock, where I passed a day and night half dead with cold and drenched
with sea water. At length an Illyrian fisherman espied me, and took me
off in his boat.

"It is unnecessary to relate to you in detail my wanderings during the
last eight years, or if I do, it shall be at some future time. My
clarinet enables me to live in the humble manner I have always done.
You remember, probably, that I had some skill in it, which I have
since much improved. When travelling, my music was generally taken as
payment for my bed and supper at the petty hostelries at which I put
up; and when I came to a large town, I remained a few days, and
usually gained more than my expenses.

"About a year since, I made some stay at Copenhagen, and at last,
getting wearied of that city, I put myself on board a ship, without
enquiring whither it was bound. It took me to Stralsund.

"The day of my arrival, there was a shooting-match in the suburb
beyond the Knieper, and I hastened thither with my clarinet. It was a
sort of fair, and I wandered from one booth to the other, playing the
joyous mountain melodies which I had not once played since my
departure from Marienberg. God knows what brought them into my head
again; but it did my heart good to play them, and a feeling came over
me, that I should like