DURING the heat of next day’s noon, Fayzenheim took the English visitors through the cool caverns that wind amidst the mountains of the Rhine. There, a thousand wonders awaited the eyes of the fairy queen. I speak not of the Gothic arch and aisle into which the hollow earth forms itself, or the stream that rushes with a mighty voice through the dark chasm, or the silver columns that shoot aloft, worked by the gnomes from the mines of the mountains of Taunus; but of the strange inhabitants that from time to time they came upon. They found in one solitary cell, lined with dried moss, two misshapen elves, of a larger size than common, with a plebeian working-day aspect, who were chatting noisily together, and making a pair of boots: these were the Hausmannen or domestic elves, that dance into tradesmen’s houses of a night, and play all sorts of undignified tricks. They were very civil to the queen, for they are good-natured creatures on the whole, and once had many relations in Scotland. They then, following the course of a noisy rivulet, came to a hole from which the sharp head of a fox peeped out. The queen was frightened. “Oh, come on,” said the fox, encouragingly, “I am one of the fairy race, and many are the gambols we of the brute-elves play in the German world of romance.” “Indeed, Mr. Fox,” said the prince, “you only speak the truth; and how is Mr. Bruin?” “Quite well, my prince, but tired of his seclusion; for indeed our race can do little or nothing now in the world; and lie here in our old age, telling stories of the past, and recalling the exploits we did in our youth,--which, madam, you may see in all the fairy histories in the prince’s library.” “Your own love adventures, for instance, Master Fox,” said the prince. The fox snarled angrily, and drew in his head. “You have displeased your friend,” said Nymphalin. “Yes; he likes no allusions to the amorous follies of his youth. Did you ever hear of his rivalry with the dog for the cat’s good graces?” “No; that must be very amusing.” “Well, my queen, when we rest by and by, I will relate to you the history of the fox’s wooing.” The next place they came to was a vast Runic cavern, covered with dark inscriptions of a forgotten tongue; and sitting on a huge stone they found a dwarf with long yellow hair, his head leaning on his breast, and absorbed in meditation. “This is a spirit of a wise and powerful race,” whispered Fayzenheim, “that has often battled with the fairies; but he is of the kindly tribe.” Then the dwarf lifted his head with a mournful air; and gazed upon the bright shapes before him, lighted by the pine torches that the prince’s attendants carried. “And what dost thou muse upon, O descendant of the race of Laurin?” said the prince.