figures of John and Cosmo do Medici; further on stood the Emperor Maximilian, and by his side the celebrated dwarf who was served up in a pie at one of the imperial feasts.  His armor was most delicate and beautiful, but small as it was, General Thumb would have had room in it.  Gustavus Adolphus and Wallenstein looked down from the neighboring pedestals, while at the other end stood Goetz von Berlichingen and Albert of Brunswick.  Guarding the door were Hans, the robber-knight of Nuremberg, and another from the Thuringian forest.  The steward told me that the iron hand of Goetz was in possession of the family, but not shown to strangers; he pointed out, however, the buckles on the armor, by which it was fastened.  Adjoining the hall is an antique chapel, filled with rude old tombs, and containing the sarcophagus of Count Eginhard of Denmark, who lived about the tenth century.  There were also monkish garments five hundred years old hanging up in it.

The collection of antiquities is large and interesting; but it is said that the old Count obtained some of them in rather a questionable manner.  Among other incidents, they say that when in Rome he visited the Pope, taking with him an old servant who accompanied him in all his travels, and was the accomplice in most of his antiquarian thefts.  In one of the outer halls, among the curiosities, was an antique shield of great value.  The servant was left in this hall while the Count had his audience, and in a short time this shield was missed.  The servant who wore a long cloak, was missed also; orders were given to close the gates and search every body, but it was too late—­the thief was gone.

Leaving Erbach we found out the direction of Snellert, the Castle of the Wild Huntsman, and took a road that led us for two or three hours along the top of a mountain ridge.  Through the openings in the pine and larch forests, we had glimpses of the hills of Spessart, beyond the Main.  When we finally left the by-road we had chosen it was quite dark, and we missed the way altogether among the lanes and meadows.  We came at last to a full stop at the house of a farmer, who guided us by a foot path over the fields to a small village.  On entering the only inn, kept by the Burgomaster, the people finding we were Americans, regarded us with a curiosity quite uncomfortable.  They crowded around the door, watching every motion, and gazed in through the windows.  The wild huntsman himself could scarcely have made a greater sensation.  The news of our arrival seemed to have spread very fast, for the next morning when we stopped at a prune orchard some distance from the village to buy some fruit, the farmer cried out from a tree, “they are the Americans; give them as many as they want for nothing!”