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. 23, 1862.]

there is no country in the world utterly devoid of superstition in one form or other. Germany is generally considered to be the land of legends and traditions, yet the part in which I have lately resided, is, I think, the least poetical corner of Europe. In Silesia, which was formerly a Polish province, scarcely is a vestige of ancient grandeur to be found, and nothing can be more matter of fact, unrelieved by the least fancy or imagination, than both the habits and tastes of its inhabitants; yet even there, amidst those unpoetic plains, romance, tradition, fiction, call it what you will, has found some small channel, and from time to time threads its way through the commonplace tittle-tattle of this most prosaic era.

Whilst staying at the small garrison town of N, I was invited to a “coffee party,” an entertainment generally given to ladies alone, the unfair sex being rigorously excluded. The Frau Landräthin von G had assembled round her hospitable board a numerous party of ladies from the neighbourhood, and extensive were the preparations made for their delectation. The younger members of the circle might probably have considered that an invasion of some of the uniformed youths, of whom the town was then full, would not altogether have marred the enjoyment of the endless refreshments set before them; but the rule of exclusion was stringent as the laws of the Medes and Persians, so they were fain to make the best of existing circumstances, and wile away the time by discussing the respective merits of absent friends—male and female. A little scandal, or “klatschen,” as it is called in German, is a necessary ingredient in all small assemblies, and if report speaks truly, is an amusement not exclusively confined to the weaker sex.

On this occasion the conversation became all the more lively for being interspersed with repeated sips at that delectable composition called “Bowle.” This is a beverage of which Rhine wine, pine apple sugar, and champagne form the principal ingredients; when mixed with due skill and science, the flavour is ambrosial, and it is particularly favoured by the ladies as being more delicate and refined than the ordinary vinous beverages.

Who knows how many characters would have been torn to pieces, or matches made or even unmade, on that afternoon, had not our good hostess chanced to express her admiration of a pearl necklace, of great value, worn by one of her guests: “It is more curious than beautiful,” rejoined the wearer; “you know it is the famous Malzahn necklace.”

“What, the necklace!” exclaimed all the ladies, in chorus. “Oh, pray let us see it!”

I inquired into the cause of all this curiosity, and as a few besides myself professed ignorance of the generally well-known story, the Countess was kind enough to relate it for our benefit.

“You must know, then,” said she, “that one of our ancestors, a Count Malzahn, inhabited, at a very remote period, the Castle of Militsch, in Silesia. He was married to a very beautiful young lady, and in due course of time became the happy father of a son and heir, whose birth was greeted by the most joyous festivities in Castle and Hall.

“Shortly after the child’s birth, as the young mother had fallen into a deep slumber, she had a strange dream or vision, which made so deep an impression on her mind, that she could not refrain from relating it the next day. She dreamt that a little dwarf had appeared at the bottom of her couch, and that he had begged and prayed her in the most piteous tones to have her baby’s cradle removed from the spot on which it stood, as the rocking, he said, disturbed his wife, who was very ill, and could not sleep for the noise. The poor Countess only got laughed at for her foolish dream. The next night, however, her troublesome guest reappeared, this time urging his request with still greater earnestness; she therefore determined no longer to withstand his entreaties, and the next day had the baby and his cradle removed to the other end of the room. The ensuing night, the little man visited her again in her dreams, but this time in high spirits, thanking her profusely for her kind acquiescence in his wishes, and assuring her that his wife was already fast recovering in consequence.

“The Countess was well pleased when the vision disappeared, and left her for some time in peace: the relief, however, was not of long duration, as a few weeks later the poor lady’s dreams were again disturbed by the same apparition. This time the little dwarf had no intention of again dislodging the poor baby or his cradle, but he made strong objections to the nurse’s habit of throwing away the water from the child’s bath through the ordinary channel. He declared that every particle of it pattered down, drop by drop, on his unfortunate wife’s head, and that if the Countess would not deign to order her servants to throw away the child’s bath on some other spot, his beloved wife must perish. The good Countess got rather impatient at these constant appeals to her good-nature, and determined not to be so foolish as to attach any importance to a mere dream; but the little man was not to be so easily put off—he appeared to her every evening, and was so importunate that, for the sake of peace and quietness, she was fain to order the child’s bath to be emptied in another corner of the castle. No sooner had this taken place, than once more the little man presented himself to her in her dreams, thanking her most gratefully for her kindness.

‘My wife is now quite restored,’ added he, ‘all danger is past. This blessing I owe to you, most gracious lady, and I wish to offer you a small token of my gratitude. Deign to accept this necklace—it ought never to go out of your family, and if kept, it will always foretell the death of the Countess Malzahn, by one of its pearls turning black by degrees, at the demise of each lady of this race.’

“When the young Countess awoke, what was her surprise to perceive a pearl necklace lying on the coverlid before her! This very same necklace that I now wear is the ominous present of the troublesome little dwarf!

“My story is not at an end yet,” added the Countess, smiling, as she was about to be interrupted. She resumed.