Chapter 18

As when a Gryphon through the wilderness,
With winged course, o'er hill and moory dale,
Pursues the Arimaspian, who by stealth
Had from his wakeful custody purloined
The guarded gold: So eagerly the Fiend--
Paradise Lost.

When their collation was ended, Sir Arthur resumed the account of the
mysteries of the divining-rod, as a subject on which he had formerly
conversed with Dousterswivel. "My friend Mr. Oldbuck will now be
prepared, Mr. Dousterswivel, to listen with more respect to the stories
you have told us of the late discoveries in Germany by the brethren of
your association."

"Ah, Sir Arthur, that was not a thing to speak to those gentlemans,
because it is want of credulity--what you call faith--that spoils the
great enterprise."

"At least, however, let my daughter read the narrative she has taken down
of the story of Martin Waldeck."

"Ah! that was vary true story--but Miss Wardour, she is so sly and so
witty, that she has made it just like one romance--as well as Goethe or
Wieland could have done it, by mine honest wort."

"To say the truth, Mr. Dousterswivel," answered Miss Wardour, "the
romantic predominated in the legend so much above the probable, that it
was impossible for a lover of fairyland like me to avoid lending a few
touches to make it perfect in its kind. But here it is, and if you do not
incline to leave this shade till the heat of the day has somewhat
declined, and will have sympathy with my bad composition, perhaps Sir
Arthur or Mr. Oldbuck will read it to us."

"Not I," said Sir Arthur; "I was never fond of reading aloud."

"Nor I," said Oldbuck, "for I have forgot my spectacles. But here is
Lovel, with sharp eyes and a good voice; for Mr. Blattergowl, I know,
never reads anything, lest he should be suspected of reading his
sermons."

The task was therefore imposed upon Lovel, who received, with some
trepidation, as Miss Wardour delivered, with a little embarrassment, a
paper containing the lines traced by that fair hand, the possession of
which he coveted as the highest blessing the earth could offer to him.
But there was a necessity of suppressing his emotions; and after glancing
over the manuscript, as if to become acquainted with the character, he
collected himself, and read the company the following tale:--

[The Fortunes of Martin Waldeck.]

The solitudes of the Harz forest in Germany,* but especially the
mountains called Blocksberg, or rather Brockenberg, are the chosen scenes
for tales of witches, demons, and apparitions.

* The outline of this story is taken from the German, though the Author
is at