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stared at him when he inquired about his goats, and began stroaking their chins. At last, almost involuntarily, he did the same, and found to his great astonishment that his beard was grown to be a foot long. He began now to think himself and the world all bewitched together, and yet he felt sure that the mountain from which he had descended was the Kyffhauser, and the houses here with their gardens and fore-courts, were all familiar to him. Moreover, several lads whom he heard telling the name of the place to a traveller, called it Sittendorf.

Shaking his head, he proceeded into the town straight to his own house. He found it sadly fallen to decay: before it lay a strange herd-boy in tattered garments, and near him an old worn-out dog, which growled and showed his teeth at Peter when he called him. He entered by the opening, which had formerly been closed by a door, but found within all so desolate and empty, that he staggered out again like a drunkard, and called his wife and children, But no one heard—no voice answered him.

Women and children now began to surround the strange old man with the long hoary beard, and to contend with one another in inquiring of him what he wanted. He thought it so ridiculous to make inquiries of strangers before his own house, after his wife and children, and still more so, after himself, that he mentioned the first neighbour that occurred to him—"Kirt Stiffen?" All were silent, and looked at one another, till an old woman said, "he has left here these these twelve years: he lives at Sachsenberg, you'll hardly get there to day." "Velten Maier." "God help him!" said an old crone leaning on a crutch, "he has been confined for these fifteen years in the house which he'll never leave again."