Year: 1871




red with great pomp.


The principal church of the town is


the Cathedral of st. Peter, which Is one


of the finest monuments of German


architecture. The interior is divided


into four rows of massive and lofty pill


lars, and is somewhat larger than that


of the Strasbourg Cathedral. In the
Church of st. Peter is the famous altar
piece of the crucifiXiOn of that Saint,


with his head downward, by the great
master, Rubens, who presented it to the


church in which he was baptized.


The fOunt in which Rubens was bap-


tiZed still exists in this church, and here


it was that the Obsequies of the Lady
Shredder were performed according to
the custom of that age, when death in


spired feelings of piety and confidence
rather than of terror. The body of the
deceased was dressed in white silk,
covered with flowers. a cOrOnet was
placed on her head, and her thin white
fingers we're adorned with the same


rings she had worn during her lifetime.
She was put in a coffin lined with look
ing-glass, and laid il a little chapel
built in a vault beneath the choir. Sew


eral of her ancestors had preceded her
thither. Her name, title, together with
the date of her birth and death, were


engraved on the plate in the lid of the


coffin. The inscription concluded with
these sOlacing words: She is not dead,
but sleepeth.'


Baron Eselwicke followed her to her
last home. The enormous bell, weigh
ing ten tons, placed in the steeple of


the cathedral, had made the great city
resound with its funeral knell. Pale
and lifeless the Lady Shredder TepOsed
in her coffin, the devOUt monks had


chanted her requiem and the immense


clOck-which is only wound up once a


year, and which points out the hours of


the day, and the course of the stars
was the sole object that moved under


the solitary and silent vault. The mon


OtonoUs noise of its pendulum resounds
above the mute tOmbs and images of
saints discOlOred by time.


1t was at the close of the evening of q
day in the month of December, the
weather being cherries and gloomy,
that HeintZ Wherat, sexton of the
/ Church of st. Peter, returned home af-
/ ter this splendid funeral; but he could
not rest. His mind was absorbed with
| but one idea-he yearned to possess him
! self of the jewels which had glittered SO
! temptingly before his avaricious eyes.
I Wherart had always been esteemed
! plain-dealing, honest sort of o fellow,
one who was incapable of committing
/ a theft. He was a charitable, we'll
meaning man enough, but he could not
comprehend or appreciate the senti-
ments VIII ch ordained those love token
/ to lie in impossible immortality on a
| hallowed breast. In his opinion, it was
/ a silly waste of treasure, and he argued
| that no harm could come of his apprO-
priating it: and he, therefore, determin
/ ed upon returning to the churUch for the
purpose of opening the coffin, that he
! might possess himself of the jewels.
| Upon his entering the sacred edifice
on his guilty errand, he tTembled like
an aspen-leaf. The hand in which he
held the lantern was agitated by 80 viO-
! lent and conclusive a movement, that
! he was more than once afraid the light
would go out and leave him in utter
! darkness; but the nature of his office had
given him a familiarity with the build
| ing, every obscure corner of which he
was very well acquainted with. He
was not, however, dead to a sense of its
sacredness. If the sight Of a temple in
spires every piOus man with Tespe ctful
fear, what must not be felt at that time
of the night by one who came to trouble
| its solitude with the intentsOn of COM
] LllBbl1lE uil OAAOlAo saul AAACS3Cs


As he took his way along the gloomly
aisles, the tOmbstOnes on the walls
! glared as it were TeprOachfully upon
him one by one, and his perturbation
was increased by the dart of bat close
| to his face. A thousand marvellous
! tales returned to his memory as he pass
ed into the Lady Shroeder's sepulchre.
! He revived his heart as best he could,
laid down his lamp in niche in the
wall and proceed with his instruments to
take off the lid of the coffin which con-
! tanned the body of her who had been
consigned to her last resting place on
the morning Of that day.


Heintz Wherart took off the lid; then
| the sight of the corpse lying there by
| that dim light in the heavy stiffness of
death, with its white and placid cOun-
! tenance, made his heart beat violently
and his nerves tremble. The sublimity
of the sight made him feel the meanness
of his action with double force. Heavy
drops of perspiration bedewed his fore
| head and temples, he felt faint, and re-
| turned into the body of the church.
| The GOODNESS of the air refreshed him,
and he made up his mind to abandon
! his wicked project; but upon recOllect-
| ing that the lid of the coffin should be
replaced, he mustered an air of intrepid
! ity to his brow, and went again into the
vault to replace the lid.


But the sight of the corpse was not
nearly so awful to him as it had been
! before, and his original intention SEEM
ed to suddenly move him to action. By
a quick effort he lifted the body, drew
the chain over the hand, disengaged the
| lOcket from under the hand, and then
] l. I sv,Ao -,
he did this, the arm, which before lay
upon the breast, fell with strange feX-
| ibilty over the side of the coffin, and a
faint sigh came from the body.


At this moment he thought he heard
the pendulum of the great clock move
quicker and more nOisily. Had a thun-
der clap broken in upon the silence, he
could not have been more staggered
! than he was at this awful moment He
rushed hastily forth-fear finds its way
| in the dark-and needless Ofhis lantern
which he had left in the niche, he pass
| ed out of the vault and crOssed-the clois-
! ter and choir with the swiftness of a
hunted hare. He opened the church
door to go out, when, as if to increase
| his bewilderment, the first thing that
met his eyes was the great moon, lift
| ing itself in unabated luster over the
| edge of the horizon. ItshOne right op-
posite, and seemed looking at and COM
| ing to expose him. He did not dare to
! lift his eyes again; but without stopping
to lock up the church, he flew over the
| fields, pursued by his own fear.


A reaction, as sudden as it was sin
| cere, took place in his feelings, and he
! became anxious to make full and am
pie confession, and for this purpose, he
at once determined upon seeking au-
! dience with the Baron Anton EseI-
wicke. He had not much difficulty in
! this respect, as he knew the Baron was
| staying at Hotel de Bellevue. Hemade


quickly for the hotel, rang the porter's
| bell, and inquired for the Baron, and


was at once shown up into the apart
ments he occupied. His pale face and
distracted appearance was the occasion


of some surprise, which was considera-
bly enhanced upon his falling upon his
knees, and relating, in hurried accents,


the adventure of the night.


The Baron as may be supposed, heard
him with wonder, but his anger was
| tempered with pity. The story the lat


ter had been relating appeared so inn


probable, that the bereaved husband


was under the impression that the mar


rator must be either affected with some
peculiar and underlined species of mono


mania, or else be the victim of weak


and superstitious fears.


He considered a moment, and then


said, 4 must, perfOrGe, give credence to


the story you have been telling me, the
more so, since you confess yourself