It was with one of these that Hans associated the mysterious epistle. After they had thus interested the miser’s feelings, one of the company visited him on the evening of the following day. When brought into the presence of Hans, he commenced a train of very vague remarks, as though he had something important to reveal, yet seemed doubtful whether it were better to make it known than to treasure the secret. Confining himself to the subjects which he knew were ever uppermost in Hans’ thoughts, he soon succeeded in drawing the miser into a very animated conversation, which, however, was rendered somewhat uneasy by his mysterious demeanor. From some cause or other, perhaps because he was thinking of the matter at the time, for he had thought of little else during the entire day, Hans immediately surmised that his visitor sustained some connexion with the singular letter he had received. This impression was not only strengthened more and more by every word that fell from the stranger, but his very dress, which gave him the appearance of a fashionable gentleman of the preceding century, seemed to confirm it. When, however, his visitor introduced the general carelessness of the world, a point upon which Hans had always been well decided, and to which alone, he had often said, was to be attributed all the poverty in it, he became certain that his surmise was correct, and watched carefully for something which might reveal the rich mine referred to in that mysterious and treasured billet. When he had been worked into a state of uncontrollable anxiety and excitement, the stranger, still preserving his mysterious air, suddenly rose from his seat, and rolling his eyes upwards in an agonized manner, preceded by several terrible yawns, he rapidly repeated a few very singular words, not found in Hans’ vocabulary, if in any other. This had the desired effect, for it so surprised and stupefied the poor Dutchman that the stranger, in the increasing darkness, readily made his exit unobserved. After the miser had somewhat recovered from the shock occasioned to his nerves and ascertained that his visitor had vanished, it was clear to him that the stranger could not have disappeared as he had entered, but must either have sunk through the floor or ascended through the ceiling. Recollecting the supplicating manner in which he had turned up his eyes, Hans quickly inferred that the latter was the course he had taken, and under the exciting circumstances of the occasion, it was not long before the inference became a conviction which has ever since been most sacredly believed and maintained.