the waves. The moonbeams wove a silver garland round its granite brow, and for centuries tradition echoed round its jagged peak; but a row of crags surrounded the foot of the rock, and the foaming rage of the waves kept away even the boldest. There into that deep rocky bed the waves bore the treasure, and now it rested safely hidden at the foot of the Loreley rock.

But treasures which have once gleamed in the sunlight, and been grasped by human hands, can never rest in darkness; they strive to reach again the light of day and the warm living hand of man. Slowly they rise from year to year, till at last they glow in the light of the sun, and await a pure hand to set them free, to do good with their riches, and so to expiate the guilt which was attached to them. It was thus that the treasure of the Nibelungen pressed upwards. It rose slowly, slowly, for sighs and blood and tears hung more heavily on it than on other sunken hoards. But at last, about a thousand years after that night when Haco threw the treasure into the stream, it had made its way up through the water.

It was just such a delightful spring night as that memorable one long ago; work had long since ended in the blooming vineyards, rest and peace lay all around. The night-wind came softly from the mountains and bore the fragrance of the vines across the Rhine; the moon stood high in heaven, its light glided trembling down on the ledges of the Loreley and kissed the feet of the rock, which until now had lain in deep shadow. There in magic radiance floated the jewels of the Nibelungen treasure, so that the Rhine shone brightly as its waves played round the golden hoard. The night-wind blew more strongly, bearing on its wings something like a spirit, which sank in a veil of mist round the point of the rock, and then stood in that majestic beauty which had in days long past touched Haco's proud heart and won the love of the hero Siegfried. It was Kriemhild, once Siegfried's sorrowing widow, and afterwards King Etzel's queen in the distant land of the Huns. As Queen of Hungary, she invited the Burgundian heroes to her kingdom, that she might demand the stolen treasure from Haco, or take revenge on him for Siegfried's murder and the robbery of her gold. But the vengeance which should only have overtaken one fell upon all, even on her own little son. Kriemhild's proud heart was softened by the blow, and with a pang of keen repentance she thought of those other mothers whom her mad revenge had rendered childless. One way only was left her of giving happiness instead of sorrow. With a desire that rose to heaven like a prayer, she thought of her lost treasure. If she could but get it now, what troubled 

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