Now, Hans Dundermann, it should be known, had frequently held interesting conversations with Heinrich Speitzer and Yorick Bozum, two of his most intimate friends in “vaterland,” and was perfectly satisfied that ghosts and spirits had as real an existence as gold and silver, though their presence was far less acceptable. He used to listen to the stories of these tried companions, and tremble from head to foot when he was told how the wicked Frederick Metzel, on a dark and dismal winter’s night, had been claimed in pursuance of a contract, attested by his own hand and seal, and carried off by the devil, amid great lightning and thunder, to no one knew whither; for the place of his abode was beyond the power of human discovery. It is true some of his warmest friends, who had always been his companions, and enjoyed his favors during his prosperity, and who had never neglected to sound his praises upon every fitting occasion, now shook their heads significantly and solemnly whenever his name was mentioned. This may have been intended as nothing but an exhibition of their deep regret for what they had lost, yet the uncharitable soon interpreted it unfavorably for the future of poor Frederick, whilst the more humane and hopeful remained silent, simply because they knew not what to say. Hans still remembered how the spirit of old Herr Von Reicher, sorely troubled because he had refused to reveal an important secret before his departure from the lower world, returned to the home six months previously left to mourn his death, and made known to the daughter of his grand-child,--who had always been his favorite,--the cause that prevented his rest. This was done by directing her to a dark and almost impenetrable recess of his castle, where great treasures were concealed, which he had hoarded up and frequently visited during his life. Now, however, that he had no further occasion for such visits, his sense of justice, which had never in the least troubled him whilst living, would not permit him to deprive his friends, who had so carefully attended to his dying wants, of so valuable a secret, nor his creditors of the only means through which their demands could be satisfied. Nor had Hans Dundermann forgotten how the son of Karl Keiser, a pleasant companion with whom he had spent many hours rehearsing wonderful tales, the accuracy of which he never doubted, had been accosted in the rough woods, on a dark October night, by a copper-colored man, out of the crown of whose head issued a constant flame of fire, and led several leagues from home. What had been the object of this singular and startling apparition--whether it had been an evil spirit and intended the young man as one of its victims, or whether it had merely meant to disclose some great and troublesome mystery--had to remain undetermined, for day intervened and summoned the vision to its abiding place. Many surmises were occasioned by this strange affair, vouched for by the person himself whom it most