Rollo on the Rhine Part 15

"If I should look up there, I should see some dreadful thing mowing and chowing at me," she added.

Rollo laughed, and they all walked on.

Presently the path began to ascend more rapidly, and soon it brought the whole party out into the light, on the slope of an elevation which was covered with the main body of the ruined castle. The man led the way up a steep path, and then up a flight of ancient stone steps built against a wall, until he came to an iron gateway. This he unlocked, and the whole party went in, or rather went through, for as the roofs were gone from the ruins, they were almost as much out of doors after pa.s.sing through the gateway as they were before.

Mr. George and the children gazed around upon the confused ma.s.s of ruined bastions, towers, battlements, and archways, that lay before them, with a feeling of awe which it is impossible to describe. The gra.s.s waved and flowers bloomed on the tops of the walls, on the sills of the windows, and on every projecting cornice, or angle, where a seed could have lodged. In many places thick cl.u.s.ters of herbage were seen growing luxuriantly from crumbling interstices of the stones in the perpendicular face of the masonry, fifty feet from the ground. Large trees were growing on what had formerly been the floors of the halls, or of the chambers, and tall gra.s.s waved there, ready for the scythe.

There was one tower which still had a roof upon it. A steep flight of stone steps led up to a door in this tower. The door was under a deep archway. The guide led the way up this stairway, and unlocking the door, admitted his party into the tower.

They found themselves, when they had entered, in a small, square room.

It occupied the whole extent of the tower on that story, and yet it was very small. This room was in good condition, having been carefully preserved, and was now the only remaining room of the whole castle which was not dismantled and in ruins. But this room, though still shut in from the weather, and protected in a measure from further decay, presented an appearance of age wholly indescribable. The door where the party had come in was on one side of it, and there was a window on the opposite side, leading out to a little stone balcony. On the other two sides were two antique cabinets of carved oak, most aged and venerable in appearance, and of the most quaint construction. The walls and the floor were of stone. In the middle of the floor, however, was a heavy trap door. The guide lifted up this door by means of a ponderous ring of rusty iron, and let Mr. George and the children look down. It was a dark and dismal dungeon.

"_Prison,_" said the guide.

This, it seemed, was the only English word that he could speak.

"Yes," said Mr. George, speaking to Rollo and Minnie. "He means that this was the prison of the castle."

The guide shut down the trap door, and the children, after gazing around upon the room a few minutes longer, were glad to go away.

Just before reaching the hotel on their way home, Rollo told Minnie that he and Mr. George were going down the next day to see Rheinstein, a beautiful castle down the river, and he asked her if she would not like to go too.

Mr. George was walking on before them at this time, and he did not hear this conversation.

"No," said Minnie, "I believe not. It makes me afraid to go and see these old ruins."

"But this one that we are going to see is not an old ruin," said Rollo.

"It has been all made over again as good as new, and is full of beautiful rooms and beautiful furniture. Besides, it stands out in a good clear place on the bank of the river, and you will not be afraid at all. I mean to ask uncle George if I may ask you to go."

That evening, in reflecting on the adventures of the day, Rollo wondered that Minnie, who seemed to have so much courage about going out in a boat on the water, and in clambering about into all sorts of dangerous places, should be so afraid of old ruins; but the fact is, that people are in nothing more inconsistent than in their fears.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XV.

RHEINSTEIN.

Rollo determined to ask his uncle George at breakfast if he might invite Minnie to accompany them on their visit to the castle of Rheinstein. He was sorry, however, when he came to reflect a little, that he had not first asked his uncle George, before mentioning the subject to Minnie at all.

"For," said he to himself, "if there _should_ be any difficulty or objection to prevent her going with us, then I shall have to go and tell her that I can't invite her, after all; and that would be worse than not to have said any thing about it."

When, at length, Rollo and Mr. George were seated at table at breakfast, Rollo asked his uncle if he was willing that Minnie should go with them to the castle.

"I told her," said he, "last night, that we were going, and I said I intended to ask you if she might go with us. But I thought afterwards that it would have been better to have spoken about it to you first."

"Yes," said Mr. George, "that would be much the best mode generally, though in this case it makes no difference, for I shall be very glad to have Minnie go."

So Rollo immediately after breakfast went to renew his invitation to Minnie, and about an hour afterwards the party set out on their excursion. They went in a fine open barouche with two horses, which Mr.

George selected from several that were standing near the hotel, waiting to be hired. Mr. George took the back seat, and Rollo and Minnie sat together on the front seat. Thus they rode through the streets of the town, and over the old stone bridge which led across the Nahe near its junction with the Rhine.

From the bridge Rollo could see the little green island on which stood Bishop Hatto's Tower.

"There is Bishop Hatto's Tower," said Rollo, "and you promised, uncle George, to tell me the story of it."

"Well," said Mr. George, "I will tell it to you now."

So Mr. George began to relate the story as follows:--

"There was a famine coming on at one time during Bishop Hatto's life, and the people were becoming very dest.i.tute, though the bishop's granaries were well supplied with corn. The poor flocked and crowded around his door. At last the bishop appointed a time when, he told them, they should have food for the winter, if they would repair to his great barn. Young and old, from far and near, did so, and when the barn could hold no more, he made fast the door, and set fire to it, and burned them all. He then returned to his palace, congratulating himself that the country was rid of the 'rats,' as he called them. He ate a good supper, went to bed, and slept like an innocent man; but he never slept again.

In the morning, when he entered a room where hung his picture, he found it entirely eaten by rats. Presently a man came and told him that the rats had entirely consumed his corn; and while the man was telling him this, another man came running, pale as death, to tell him that ten thousand rats were coming. 'I'll go to my tower on the Rhine,' said the bishop; ''tis the safest place in Germany.' He immediately hastened to the sh.o.r.e, and crossed to his tower, and very carefully barred all the doors and windows. After he had retired for the night, he had hardly closed his eyes, when he heard a fearful scream. He started up, and saw the cat sitting by his pillow, screaming with fear of the army of rats that were approaching. They had swum over the river, climbed the sh.o.r.e, and were scaling the walls of his tower by thousands. The bishop, half dead with fright, fell on his knees, and began counting his beads. The rats soon gained the room, fell upon the bishop, and in a short time nothing was left of him but his bones.

"There is an account of it in poetry too, in my book," said Mr. George.

"Read it to us," said Minnie.

So Mr. George opened his book, and read the account in poetry, as follows:--

BISHOP HATTO.

The summer and autumn had been so wet, That in winter the corn was growing yet; 'Twas a piteous sight to see all around The grain lie rotting on the ground.

Every day the starving poor Crowded around Bishop Hatto's door, For he had a plentiful last year's store; And all the neighborhood could tell His granaries were furnished well.

At last Bishop Hatto appointed a day To quiet the poor without delay: He bade them to his great barn repair, And they should have food for the winter there.

Rejoiced at such tidings good to hear, The poor folk flocked from far and near; The great barn was full as it could hold Of women and children, and young and old.

Then, when they saw it could hold no more, Bishop Hatto he made fast the door; And while for mercy on Christ they call, He set fire to the barn, and burned them all.

"I' faith 'tis an excellent bonfire!" quoth he, "And the country is greatly obliged to me For ridding it, in these times forlorn, Of rats that only consume the corn."

So then to his palace returned he, And he sat down to supper merrily, And he slept that night like an innocent man; But Bishop Hatto never slept again.

In the morning, as he entered the hall Where his picture hung against the wall, A sweat like death all o'er him came, For the rats had eaten it out of the frame.

As he looked there came a man from his farm; He had a countenance white with alarm.

"My lord, I opened your granaries this morn, And the rats had eaten all your corn."

Another came running presently, And he was pale as pale could be: "Fly, my lord bishop, fly," quoth he; "Ten thousand rats are coming this way; The Lord forgive you for yesterday."

"I'll go to my tower on the Rhine," replied he, "'Tis the safest place in Germany; The walls are high, and the sh.o.r.es are steep, And the stream is strong, and the water deep."

Bishop Hatto fearfully hastened away, And he crossed the Rhine without delay, And reached his tower, and barred with care All the windows, doors, and loopholes there.