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 how very strange it was that he should be again in possession of his ancient staff, entire and uninjured, though he was perfectly sure he had seen it snap asunder in the brook. That the gloomy figure must have been none other than Rubezahl, the lord of the mountain, he now felt quite assured; he also remembered to have heard many adventures similar to his related of travellers in these parts, and did not doubt that the wicked staff, which had wrought him so much woe, had been finally converted into a rod of precious metal. So, after having refreshed himself from the fatigues of his journey, he set out and retraced his steps in search of the staff he had so thoughtlessly flung away; but Rubezahl was not propitious, and the traveller added a vain and toilsome search to the other fatigues of the day.



had one day, with great exertion, rolled a wheel across the mountain. He had just got it conveyed to the top of a considerable eminence, and, feeling himself much fatigued, had placed the wheel against a tree, and laid himself down under another, where he soon fell asleep. In the meantime, Rubezahl bewitches the wheel. The coachman awoke much refreshed from his slumber, and attempted to renew his task; but the obstinate wheel resisted every effort to set it again in motion. Long he toiled, and struggled, and panted in vain; at last, by one convulsive exertion, he tore it from the tree; but it now fell with the weight of a ton to the ground, and by no effort could he succeed in raising it again. At the moment, however, that the coachman, quite out of