way.

This odd personage was none other than Herr Dapsul Von Zabelthau, whose
sole--rather miserable--possession is the village, or hamlet, of
Dapsulheim, which lies before you in this most pleasant and smiling
country into which you now enter. You are looking forward to something
in the shape of breakfast, but in the little inn things have rather a
gloomy aspect. Its small store of provisions was cleared out at the
fair, and as you can't be expected to be content with nothing besides
milk, they tell you to go to the Manor House, where the gracious
Fraeulein Anna will entertain you hospitably with whatever may be
forthcoming there. Accordingly, thither you betake yourself without
further ceremony.

Concerning this Manor House, there is nothing further to say than that
it has doors and windows, as of yore had that of Baron Tondertontonk in
Westphalia. But above the hall-door the family coat-of-arms makes a
fine show, carved there in wood with New Zealand skilfulness. And this
Manor House derives a peculiar character of its own from the
circumstance that its north side leans upon the enceinte, or outer line
of defence belonging to an old ruined castle, so that the back entrance
is what was formerly the castle gate, and through it one passes at once
into the courtyard of that castle, in the middle of which the tall
watch-tower still stands undamaged. From the hall door, which is
surmounted by the coat-of-arms, there comes meeting you a red-cheeked
young lady, who, with her clear blue eyes and fair hair, is to be
called very pretty indeed, although her figure may be considered just
the least bit too roundly substantial. A personification of friendly
kindness, she begs you to go in, and as soon as she ascertains your
wants, serves you up the most delicious milk, a liberal allowance of
first-rate bread and butter, uncooked ham--as good as you would find in
Bayonne--and a small glass of beetroot brandy. Meanwhile, this young
lady (who is none other than Fraeulein Anna von Zabelthau) talks to you
gaily and pleasantly of rural matters, displaying anything but a
limited knowledge of such subjects. Suddenly, however, there resounds a
loud and terrible voice, as if from the skies, crying "Anna, Anna,
Anna!" This rather startles you; but Fraeulein Anna says, pleasantly,
"There's papa back from his walk, calling for his breakfast from his
study." "Calling from his study," you repeat, or enquire, astonished.
"Yes," says Fraeulein A