“City, town, or village, you must sleep under no forest tree, sir. Let us ride on. It will be hard if we do not find some huntsman’s or ranger’s cottage; and for aught we know a neat snug village, or some comfortable old manor-house, which has been in the family for two centuries; and where, with God’s blessing, they may chance to have wine as old as the bricks. I know not how you may feel, sir, but a ten hours’ ride when I was only prepared for half the time, and that, too, in an autumn night, makes me somewhat desirous of renewing my acquaintance with the kitchen-fire.” “I could join you in a glass of hock and a slice of venison, I confess, my good fellow; but in a nocturnal ride I am no longer your match. However, if you think it best, we will prick on our steeds for another hour. If it be only for them, I am sure we must soon stop.” “Ay! do, sir; and put your cloak well round you; all is for the best. You are not, I guess, a Sabbath-born child?” “That am I not, but how would that make our plight worse than it is? Should we be farther off supper?” “Nearer, perhaps, than you imagine; for we should then have a chance of sharing the spoils of the Spirit Hunter.” “Ah! Essper, is it so?” “Truly yes, sir; and were either of us a Sabbath-born child, by holy cross! I would not give much for our chance of a down bed this night.” Here a great horned owl flew across the road. “Were I in the north,” said Essper, “I would sing an Ave Mary against the STUT OZEL.” “What call you that?” asked Vivian. “Tis the great bird, sir; the great horned owl, that always flies before the Wild Hunter. And truly, sir, I have passed through many forests in my time, but never yet saw I one where I should sooner expect to hear a midnight bugle. If you will allow me, sir, I will ride by your side. Thank God, at least, it is not the Walpurgis night!” “I wish to Heaven it were!” said Vivian, “and that we were on the Brocken. It must be highly amusing!” “Hush! hush! it is lucky we are not in the Hartz; but we know not where we are, nor who at this moment may be behind us.” And here Essper began pouring forth a liturgy of his own, half Catholic and half Calvinistic, quite in character with the creed of the country through which they were travelling. “My horse has stumbled,” continued Essper, “and yours, sir, is he not shying? There is a confounded cloud over the moon, but I have no sight in the dark if that mass before you be not a devil’s-stone. The Lord have mercy upon our sinful souls!” “Peace! Essper,” said Vivian, who was surprised to find him really alarmed; “I see nothing but a block of granite, no uncommon sight in a German forest.” “It is a devil-stone, I tell you, sir; there has been some church here, which he has knocked down in the night. Look! is it the moss-people that I see! As sure as I am a hungry sinner, the Wild One is out a-hunting to-night.”