The Project Gutenberg EBook of ZigZag Journeys in Northern Lands;, by Hezekiah Butterworth This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: ZigZag Journeys in Northern Lands; The Rhine to the Arctic Author: Hezekiah Butterworth Release Date: May 22, 2009 [EBook #28915] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS; *** Produced by David Garcia, Sam W. and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) Front cover of the book ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. THE RHINE TO THE ARCTIC. A SUMMER TRIP OF THE ZIGZAG CLUB THROUGH HOLLAND, GERMANY, DENMARK, NORWAY, AND SWEDEN. BY HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH, AUTHOR OF “YOUNG FOLKS’ HISTORY OF AMERICA,” “YOUNG FOLKS’ HISTORY OF BOSTON,” “ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN EUROPE,” ETC. FULLY ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: ESTES AND LAURIAT, 301-305 Washington Street. 1884. Copyright, 1883, By Estes and Lauriat. Printer's logo THE ZIGZAG SERIES. BY HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH, OF THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE “YOUTH’S COMPANION,” AND CONTRIBUTOR TO “ST. NICHOLAS” MAGAZINE. Each volume complete in itself. ———— NOW PUBLISHED. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN EUROPE. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN CLASSIC LANDS. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN THE ORIENT. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN THE OCCIDENT. ———— New Volume for 1883. ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. ———— Over 100,000 volumes of the Zigzag books have already been sold. Siegfried's body is rowed across the water CARRYING SIEGFRIED’S BODY. PREFACE. This fifth volume of the Zigzag books, in which history is taught by a supposed tour of interesting places, might be called a German story-book. It was the aim of “Zigzag Journeys in Europe” and “Zigzag Journeys in Classic Lands” to make history interesting by stories and pictures of places. It was the purpose of “Zigzag Journeys in the Orient” to explain the Eastern Question, and of “Zigzag Journeys in the Occident” to explain Homesteading in the West. The purpose of this volume is the same as in “Europe” and “Classic Lands.” A light narrative of travel takes the reader to the places most conspicuously associated with German history, tradition, literature, and art, and in a disconnected way gives a view of the most interesting events of those Northern countries that once constituted a great part of the empire of Charlemagne. It is the aim of these books to stimulate a love of history, and to suggest the best historical reading. To this end popular stories and pictures are freely used to adapt useful information to the tastes of the young. But in every page, story, and picture, right education and right influence are kept in view. In this volume many German legends and fairy stories have been used, but they are so introduced and guarded as not to leave a wrong impression upon the minds of the young and immature. H. B. CONTENTS. Chapter Page I. The River of Story and Song 15 II. Ghost Stories 21 III. A Story-telling Journey 40 IV. German Stories 60 V. The Second Meeting of the Club 76 VI. Night Second 92 VII. Evening the Third 104 [7] [8] [9] VIII. Evening the Fourth 122 IX. Fifth Meeting for Rhine Stories 145 X. Night the Sixth 165 XI. Cologne 184 XII. Hamburg 206 XIII. The Bells of the Rhine 221 XIV. The Songs of the Rhine 253 XV. Copenhagen 277 XVI. Norway 288 XVII. The Greater Rhine 309 ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE Carrying Siegfried’s Body Frontispiece. Introducing Christianity into the North 16 Castle in Rhine Land 17 Tower of Rüdesheim on the Rhine 19 Mountain Scenery in Southern Germany 23 “I’ve seen de Debble” 26 Cat and Rat 27 Grandmother Golden 29 The Frightened Irishman 30 Duncan Asleep 34 Witches 35 The Grand-Ducal Castle, Schwerin 41 Ancient German Houses 43 Ancient Religious Rites of the Peasants 45 Old Fortress on the Rhine 50 St. Dunstan and the Devil 53 The Murder of Edward 58 The Emperor William and Napoleon III 63 William before his Father 64 King William’s Helmet 65 Jamie at the Strange-looking House 67 Mountain Scene in Germany 69 Jamie rushing towards his Mother 71 The Dwarf and the Goose 72 Eberhard 74 Bridge in the Via Mala 77 John Huss 79 Bismarck 81 Peter in the Forest 86 Peter and the Manikin 88 Peter surpassed the King of Dancers 89 Peter and the Giant 90 A Village in the Black Forest 93 Peasant’s House in the Black Forest 95 Von Moltke 97 Fountain at Schaffhausen 99 The Old Woman’s Directions 101 The Hen and the Trench 102 [11] Strasburg Cathedral 103 Platform of Strasburg Cathedral 107 Thus didst thou to the Vase of Soissons 109 Street in Strasburg 111 Clovis 113 Monsieur Lacombe and the Organ 115 “Here is an Odd Treasure” 120 Palace at Heidelberg 123 German Student 126 Castle at Heidelberg 127 German Students 131 Entrance to Heidelberg Castle 135 Little Mook 137 Amputation 139 The Queer Old Lady who went to College 140 “And it told to her the Truth” 141 “Not very, very plain” 141 “They you straightway in invite” 141 “He of the Philosophie” 143 A Battle between Franks and Saxons 146 Luther’s House 147 A tribe of Germans on an Expedition 149 The Murder of Siegfried 151 Mayence 153 Bishop Hatto and the Rats 155 View on the Rhine 158 The Lorelei 159 Herman’s Eyes were fixed on the Rock 163 Ehrenbreitstein 166 Goethe’s Promenade 167 Faust Signing 171 Faust and Mephistopheles 172 A Cleft in the Mountains 175 Voltaire 179 The Unnerved Hussar 182 Cathedral of Cologne 185 The Mysterious Architect 189 St. Martin’s Church, Cologne 193 Charlemagne in the School of the Palace 197 Charlemagne inflicting Baptism upon the Saxons 201 The Germans on an Expedition 203 Canal in Hamburg 207 The Palace in Berlin 209 Grotto 211 Sans-Souci 213 Peter the Wild Boy 217 The Silent Castles 223 Hotel de Ville, Ghent 225 Bell-Tower, Ghent 228 Bell Tower of Heidelberg 229 Breslau 233 Finishing the Bell 236 At the Inn 237 [12] The Day of Execution 238 Above the Town 241 Old Peasant Costume 244 The Old City 245 Old Peasant Costume 247 Old Peasant Costumes 248 City Gate 249 The Neckar 250 An Old German Town 255 The Rhinefels 257 Mayence in the Olden Time 262 Beethoven’s Home at Bonn 268 A City of the Rhine 271 The River of Song 274 The Palace of Rosenborg 278 View of Copenhagen 279 Palace of Fredericksborg 283 The King in the Bag 286 Gustavus Adolphus 289 Death of Gustavus and his Page 293 Cascade in Norway 297 Lazaretto 299 The Naero Fiord 300 Lake in Norway 303 The Coast 307 Niagara Falls 311 A New England in the West 315 Near Quebec 317 ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN NORTHERN LANDS. CHAPTER I. THE RIVER OF STORY AND SONG. HE Rhine! River of what histories, tragedies, comedies, legends, stories, and songs! Associated with the greatest events of the history of Germany, France, and Northern Europe; with the Rome of Cæsar and Aurelian; with the Rome of the Popes; with the Reformation; with the shadowy goblin lore and beautiful fairy tales of the twilight of Celtic civilization that have been evolved through centuries and have become the household stories of all enlightened lands! A journey down the Rhine is like passing through wonderland; wild stories, quaint stories, legendary and historic stories, are associated with every rood of ground from the Alps to the ocean. It is a region of the stories of two thousand years. The Rhine is the river of the poet; its [15] banks are the battle-fields of heroes; its forests and villages the fairy lands of old. When Rome was queen of the world, Cæsar carried his eagles over the Rhine; Titus sent a part of his army which had conquered Jerusalem to the Rhine; Julian erected a fortress on the Rhine; and Valentinian began the castle-building that was to go on for a thousand years. A couple preach to a crowd INTRODUCING CHRISTIANITY INTO THE NORTH. The period of the Goths, Huns, Celts, and Vandals came,—the conquerors of Rome; and the Rhine was strewn with Roman ruins. Charlemagne cleared away the ruins, and began anew the castle-building. A Christian soldier in one of the legions that destroyed Jerusalem and tore down the temple, first brought the Gospel to the Rhine. His name was Crescaitius. He was soon followed by missionaries of the Cross. Christianity was established upon the Rhine soon after it entered Rome. CASTLE IN RHINE LAND. The great conquests of modern history are directly or indirectly associated with the wonderful river; Cæsar, who conquered the world, crossed the Rhine; Attila, who conquered the city of the Cæsars; Clovis, who founded the [16] [19] Christian religion in France; and Charlemagne, who established the Christian church in Germany. Frederick Barbarossa and Frederick the Great added lustre to its growing history, and Napoleon gave a yet deeper coloring to its thrilling scenes. TOWER OF RÜDESHEIM ON THE RHINE. When the Northern nations shattered the Roman power, people imagined that the dismantled castles of the Rhine became the abodes of mysterious beings: spirits of the rocks, forests, fens; strange maidens of the red marshes; enchanters, demons; the streams were the abodes of lovely water nymphs; the glens of the woods, of delightful fairies. Into these regions of shadow, mystery, of heroic history, of moral conflicts and Christian triumphs, it is always interesting to go. It is especially interesting to the American traveller, for his form of Christianity and republican principles came from the Rhine. Progress to him was cradled on the Rhine, like Moses on the Nile. In the Rhine lands Luther taught, and Robinson of Leyden lived and prayed; and from those lands to-day comes the great emigration that is peopling the golden empire of America in the West. “I would be proud of the Rhine were I a German,” said Longfellow. “I love rivers,” said Victor Hugo; “of all rivers I prefer the Rhine.” It is our purpose in this story-telling volume to relate why the Zigzag Club was led to make the Rhine the subject of its winter evening study, and to give an account of an excursion that some of its members had made from Constance to Rotterdam and into the countries of the North Sea. “All hail, thou broad torrent, so golden and green, Ye castles and churches, ye hamlets serene, Ye cornfields, that wave in the breeze as it sweeps, Ye forests and ravines, ye towering steeps, Ye mountains e’er clad in the sun-illumed vine! Wherever I go is my heart on the Rhine! “I greet thee, O life, with a yearning so strong, In the maze of the dance, o’er the goblet and song. All hail, beloved race, men so honest and true, And maids who speak raptures with eyes of bright blue! May success round your brows e’er its garlands entwine! Wherever I go is my heart on the Rhine! “On the Rhine is my heart, where affection holds sway! On the Rhine is my heart, where encradled I lay, Where around me friends bloom, where I dreamt away youth, Where the heart of my love glows with rapture and truth! May for me your hearts e’er the same jewels enshrine. Wherever I go is my heart on the Rhine!” Wolfgang Müller. [19] [20] CHAPTER II. GHOST STORIES. The Zigzag Club again.—Some “Ghost” Stories. HE Academy had opened again. September again colored the leaves of the old elms of Yule. The Blue Hills, as lovely as when the Northmen beheld them nearly nine hundred years ago, were radiant with the autumn tinges of foliage and sky, changing from turquoise to sapphire in the intense twilight, and to purple as the shades of evening fell. The boys were back again, all except the graduating class, some of whom were at Harvard, Brown, and Yale. Master Lewis was in his old place, and Mr. Beal was again his assistant. The Zigzag Club was broken by the final departure of the graduating class. But Charlie Leland, William Clifton, and Herman Reed, who made a journey on the Rhine under the direction of Mr. Beal, had returned, and they had been active members of the school society known as the Club. We should say here, to make the narrative clear to those who have not read “Zigzag Journeys in Classic Lands” and “Zigzag Journeys in the Orient,” that the boys of the Academy of Yule had been accustomed each year to form a society for the study of the history, geography, legends, and household stories of some chosen country, and during the long summer vacation as many of the society as could do so, visited, under the direction of their teachers, the lands about which they had studied. This society was called the Zigzag Club, because it aimed to visit historic places without regard to direct routes of travel. It zigzagged in its travels from the associations of one historic story to another, and was influenced by the school text-book or the works of some pleasing author, rather than the guide-book. The Zigzag books have been kindly received;[1] and we may here remark parenthetically that they do not aim so much to present narratives of travel as the histories, traditions, romances, and stories of places. They seek to tell stories at the places where the events occurred and amid the associations of the events that still remain. The Zigzag Club go seeking what is old rather than what is new, and thus change the past tense of history to the present tense. More than one hundred thousand volumes have been sold. Charlie Leland was seated one day on the piazza of the Academy, after school, reading Hawthorne’s “Twice-Told Tales.” Master Lewis presently took a seat beside him; and “Gentleman Jo,” whom we introduced to our readers in “Zigzags in the Occident,” was resting on the steps near them. Gentleman Jo was the janitor. He was a relative of Master Lewis, and a very intelligent man. He had been somewhat disabled in military service in the West, and was thus compelled to accept a situation at Yule that was quite below his intelligence and personal worth. The boys loved and respected him, sought his advice often, and sometimes invited him to meetings of their Society. “Have you called together the Club yet?” asked Master Lewis of Charlie, when the latter had ceased reading. “We had an informal meeting in my room last evening.” “What is your plan of study?” [21] [22] [1] MOUNTAIN SCENERY IN SOUTHERN GERMANY. “We have none as yet,” said Charlie. “We are to have a meeting next week for the election of officers, and for literary exercises we have agreed to relate historic ghost stories. We asked Tommy Toby to be present, and he promised to give us for the occasion his version of ‘St. Dunstan and the Devil and the Six Boy Kings.’ I hardly know what the story is about, but the title sounds interesting.” “What made you choose ghost stories?” asked Master Lewis, curiously. “You gave us Irving and Hawthorne to read in connection with our lessons on American literature. ‘Rip Van Winkle,’ ‘Sleepy Hollow,’ and ‘Twice-Told Tales’ turned our thoughts to popular superstitions; and, as they made me chairman, I thought it an interesting subject just now to present to the Club.” “More interesting than profitable, I am thinking. Still, the subject might be made instructive and useful as well as amusing.” “Did you ever see a ghost?” asked Charlie of Gentleman Jo, after Master Lewis left them. “We thought we had one in our house, when I was living with my sister in Hingham, before the war. Hingham used to be famous for its ghost stories; an old house without its ghost was thought to lack historic tone and finish.” Gentleman Jo took a story-telling attitude, and a number of the pupils gathered around him. GENTLEMAN JO’S GHOST STORY. I shall never forget the scene of excitement, when one morning Biddy, our domestic, entered the sitting-room, her head bobbing, her hair flying, and her cap perched upon the top of her head, and exclaimed: “Wurrah! I have seen a ghoust, and it’s lave the hoose I must. Sich a night! I’d niver pass anither the like of it for the gift o’ the hoose. Bad kick to ye, an’ the hoose is haunted for sure.” “Why, Biddy, what have you seen?” asked my sister, in alarm. “Seen? An’ sure I didn’t see nothin’. I jist shet me eyes and hid mesilf under the piller. But it was awful. An’ the way it clanked its chain! O murther!” [25] This last remark was rather startling. Spirits that clank their chains have a very unenviable reputation. “Pooh!” said my uncle. “What you heard was nothing but rats.” Then, turning to me, he asked: “Where is the steel trap?” “Stolen, I think,” said I. “I set it day before yesterday, and when I went to look to it it was gone.” “An’ will ye be givin’ me the wages?” said Biddy, “afore I bid ye good-marnin’?” “Going?” asked my sister, in astonishment. “An’ sure I am,” answered Biddy. “Ye don’t think I’d be afther stayin’ in a house that’s haunted, do ye?” In a few minutes I heard the front door bang, and, looking out, saw our late domestic, with a budget on each arm, trudging off as though her ideas were of a very lively character. A colored woman, recently from the South, took Biddy’s place that very day, and was assigned the same room in which the latter had slept. We had invited company for that evening, and some of the guests remained to a very late hour. The sound of voices subsided as one after another departed, and we were left quietly chatting with the few who remained. Suddenly there was a mysterious movement at one of the back parlor doors, and we saw two white eyes casting furtive glances into the room. “What’s wanted?” demanded my sister, of the object at the door. “I’VE SEEN DE DEBBLE.” Our new domestic appeared in her night clothes. “O missus, I’ve seen de debble, I done have,” was her first exclamation. This, certainly, was not a sight that we should wish any one to see in our house, as desirable as a dignified spectre might have been. “Pooh!” said my sister. “What a silly creature! Go back to bed and to sleep, and do not shame us by appearing before company in your night clothes.” “I don’t keer nothing about my night clothes,” she replied, with spirit. “Jes’ go to de room and git de things dat belong to me, an’ I’ll leave, and never disturb you nor dis house any more. It’s dreadful enough to be visited by dead folks, any way, but when de spirits comes rattling a chain it’s a dreadful bad sign, you may be sure.” “What did you see?” asked I. “See? I didn’t see nothin’. ’Twas bad enough to hear it. I wouldn’t hav’ seen it for de world. I’ll go quick—jest as soon as you gets de things.” We made her a bed on a lounge below stairs. The next morning she took her bundles and made a speedy exit. We had a maiden aunt who obtained a livelihood by visiting her relations. On the morning when our last domestic left she arrived, bag and baggage, greatly to our annoyance. We said nothing about the disturbances to her, but agreed among ourselves that she should sleep in the haunted chamber. That night, about twelve o’clock, the household were awakened by a piercing scream above stairs. All was silent for a few minutes, when the house echoed with the startling cry of “Murder! Murder! Murder!” The accent was very strong on the last syllable in the last two words, as though the particular force of the exclamation was therein contained. I hurried to the chamber and asked at the door what was the matter. [26] [27] “I have seen an apparatus,” exclaimed my aunt. “Murder! Oh, wait a minute. I’m a dead woman.” Cat and rat She unlocked the door in a delirious way and descended to the sitting-room, where she sat sobbing for a long time, declaring that she was a dead woman. She had heard his chain rattle. And the next morning she likewise left. We now felt uneasy ourselves, and wondered what marvel the following night would produce. I examined the room carefully during the day, but could discover no traces of anything unusual. That night we were again awakened by noises that proceeded from the same room. They seemed like the footfalls of a person whose feet were clad in iron. Then followed sounds like a scuffle. I rose, and, taking a light, went to the chamber with shaky knees and a palpitating heart. I listened before the door. Presently there was a movement in the room as of some one dragging a chain. My courage began to ebb. I was half resolved to retreat at once, and on the morrow advise the family to quit the premises. But my better judgment at last prevailed, and, opening the door with a nervous hand, I saw an “apparatus” indeed. Our old cat, that I had left accidentally in the room, had in her claws a large rat, to whose leg was attached the missing trap, and to the trap a short chain. “I knew the story would end in that way,” said Charlie. “But that is not a true colonial ghost story, if it did happen in old Hingham.” The sun was going down beyond the Waltham Hills. The shadows of the maples were lengthening upon the lawns, and the chirp of the crickets was heard in the old walls. Charlie seemed quite dissatisfied with Gentleman Jo’s story. The latter noticed it. “My story does not please you?” said Gentleman Jo. “No; I am in a different mood to-night.” Master Lewis smiled. Just then a quiet old lady, who had charge of a part of the rooms in the Academy, appeared, a bunch of keys jingling by her side, much like the wife of a porter of a lodge in an English castle. “Grandmother Golden,” said Charlie,—the boys were accustomed to address the chatty, familiar old lady in this way, —“you have seen ghosts, haven’t you? What is the most startling thing that ever happened in your life?” Grandmother Golden had seated herself in one of the easy piazza chairs. After a few minutes she was induced to follow Gentleman Jo in an old-time story. GRANDMOTHER GOLDEN’S ONLY GHOST STORY. The custom in old times, when a person died, was for some one to sit in the room and watch with the dead body in the night, as long as it remained in the house. A good, pious custom it was, in my way of thinking, though it is not common now. Jemmy Robbin was a poor old man. They used to call him “Auld Robin Gray,” after the song, and he lived and died alone. His sister Dorothea—Dorothy she was commonly called—took charge of the house after his death, and she sent for Grandfather Golden to watch one night with the corpse. We were just married, grandfather and I, and he wanted I should watch with him, for company; and as I could not bear that he should be out of my sight a minute when I could help it, I consented. I was young and foolish then, and very fond of grandfather,—we were in our honeymoon, you know. We didn’t go to the house at a very early hour of the evening; it wasn’t customary for the watchers to go until it was nearly time for the family to retire. [28] [29] GRANDMOTHER GOLDEN. In the course of the evening there came to the house a traveller,—a poor Irishman,—an old man, evidently honest, but rather simple, who asked Dorothy for a lodging. He said he had travelled far, was hungry, weary, and footsore, and if turned away, knew not where he could go. It was a stormy night, and the good heart of Dorothy was touched at the story of the stranger, so she told him that he might stay. After he had warmed himself and eaten the food she prepared for him, she asked him to retire, saying that she expected company. Instead of going with him to show where he was to sleep, as she ought to have done, she directed him to his room, furnished him with a light, and bade him good-night. The Irishman, as I have said, was an old man and not very clear-headed. Forgetting his directions, and mistaking the room, he entered the chamber where lay the body of poor Jemmy Robbin. In closing the door the light was blown out. He found there was what seemed to be some other person in the bed, and, supposing him a live bedfellow, quietly lay down, covered himself with a counterpane, and soon fell asleep. About ten o’clock grandfather and I entered the room. We just glanced at the bed. What seemed to be the corpse lay there, as it should. Then grandfather sat down in an easy-chair, and I, like a silly hussy, sat down in his lap. We were having a nice time, talking about what we would do and how happy we should be when we went to housekeeping, when, all at once, I heard a snore. It came from the bed. “What’s that?” said I. “That?” said grandfather. “Mercy! that was Jemmy Robbin.” We listened nervously, but heard nothing more, and at last concluded that it was the wind that had startled us. I gave grandfather a generous kiss, and it calmed his agitation wonderfully. We grew cheerful, laughed at our fright, and were chatting away again as briskly as before, when there was a noise in bed. We were silent in a moment. The counterpane certainly moved. Grandfather’s eyes almost started from his head. The next instant there was a violent sneeze. I jumped as if shot. Grandfather seemed petrified. He attempted to ejaculate something, but was scared by the sound of his own voice. “Mercy!” says I. “What was it?” said grandfather. “Let’s go and call Dorothy,” said I. “She would be frightened out of her senses.” “I shall die with fright if I hear anything more,” I said, half dead already with fear. Just then a figure started up in the bed. [30] “And wha—and wha—and wha—” mumbled the object, gesticulating. I sprang for the door, grandfather after me, and, reaching the bottom of the stairs at one bound, gave vent to my terrors by a scream, that, for aught I know, could have been heard a mile distant. Both of us ran for Dorothy’s room. There was a sound of feet and a loud ejaculation of “Holy Peter! The man is dead!” “It’s comin’,” shouted grandfather, and, sure enough, there were footsteps on the stairs. “Dorothy! Dorothy!” I screamed. Dorothy, startled from her sleep, came rushing to the entry in her night-dress. The Irishman coming down the stairs, the others looking up at him “I have seen a ghost, Dorothy,” said I. “A what?” “I have seen the awfullest—” “It’s comin’,” said grandfather. “Holy Peter!” said an object in the darkness. “There’s a dead man in the bed!” “Why, it’s that Irishman,” said Dorothy, as she heard the voice. “What Irishman?” asked I. “A murdered one?” “No; he—there—I suspect that he mistook his room and went to bed with poor Jemmy.” The mystery now became quite clear. Grandfather looked anything but pleased, and declared that he would rather have seen a ghost than to have been so foolishly frightened. “Is that all?” asked Charlie. “That is all,” said Grandmother Golden. “Just hear the crickets chirp. Sounds dreadful mournful.” “I have been twice disappointed,” said Charlie. “Perhaps, Master Lewis, you can tell us a story before we go in. Something fine and historic.” “In harmony with books you are reading?” “And the spirit of Nature,” added Charlie. “How fine that there boy talks,” said Grandmother Golden. “Get to be a minister some day, I reckon.” “How would the True Story of Macbeth answer?” asked Master Lewis. “That would be excellent: Shakspeare. The greatest ghost story ever written.” “And if you don’t mind, I’ll just wait and hear that story, too,” said good-humored Grandmother Golden. MASTER LEWIS’S STORY OF MACBETH. [31] [32]