“There was once a pack of wild students here,” said she, among the other marvelous stories she related; “though all students are wild enough, as is quite natural; but these fellows (I remember every one of them) made a terrible noise all afternoon, with their songs and their wine-bottles, and what not. They climbed down the rocks to the Bode and up again, and I must needs tell them the story of the Rosstrappe twice over. When night came they were still here under the trees, drinking, and as it began to rain and they were not able to find their way, the dear Lord knows, what was to be done but keep them? We have no rooms for so many here, you see; so I told them to take this chamber where we are sitting and sleep as they best might. But no sleep had I nor my good man; there was nothing but singing and yelling the whole night. About midnight there was a terrible rap on my door. ‘Himmel!’ I cried, ‘what is the matter?’ and I started up in great fright. ‘O mein Gott!’ said one of the students, ‘there are wolves at the door.’ Now there never was a wolf near the house, but I feared it might be a spirit, or something as frightful, so I put on my gown as quick as I could and lit my lamp, for they had overturned theirs in their fright. When I came into the room I found them all in one corner, looking very wild and pale. ‘There are no wolves here,’ said I. Just then a night-owl among the trees began to hoot. ‘There it is, there it is again!’ they cried, but I laughed, although I was very angry, to be called up for an owl. ‘Go to sleep, you fools!’ I said to them, ‘do you not know better than to be frightened by a _hoo-hoo_!’ The next morning they were very much ashamed, as they truly might be, for I tell about their fright to every body who comes here.” At the Rosstrappe, I had reached the eastern extremity of the Hartz, and after I descended the mountain my way was enlivened by bloomy orchards and springing grain. At sunset I was so far out in the plain of the Elbe that I could see the snowy top of the Brocken, free from clouds. This was my last view of the bleak and spectral mountain. After a night of terror at Halberstadt, (an account of which the reader will find in my narrative of travel,) I took the cars for Leipsic, which I reached the next night, and where I found a companion waiting for me. So ended my Lonely Week of Travel in Northern Germany. * * * * * STANZAS FOR MUSIC. BY MRS. HARRIET S. HANDY. Oh! the bright and sunny days that long, long since were ours, Will they ne’er return again, with their wealth of summer flowers; The sweet approving smile—the low, soft gentle tone, With its murmured words of love, are they forever flown? And from thy heart are banished all memories of me. As a cloud upon the summer sky, a shadow o’er the sea?