of some concealed treasures which a rod-diviner had proved to their satisfaction a former possessor of the estate must have concealed there. Schroeder also vouched for the truth of every word of his story, and declared that he was ready to seal his affirmation with a thousand oaths: he actually did make a deposition of his adventure, but the magistrate before whom he deposed it, and who belonged to the unbelievers, insisted upon a local examination of the chamber where Schroeder had slept. Old Silverstein could hardly be prevailed upon to consent to it; he declared that he did not like to affront a spirit in his own house, who honoured him with its company; that he could do very well without the black chamber, and would be perfectly satisfied to have it shut up, and leave it to the service of the spectre, provided it would be moderate enough to content itself with the use of that one, and not go rambling about the rest of the mansion. But the magistrate, still insisting, carried his point, in opposition to the proprietor of the estate. The black chamber, therefore, was opened. Schroeder found it difficult to point out the place where the closet with the treasure was said to have stood, for opposite to the bed there were windows, and not a spot was to be found where a closet could have stood, visible or invisible: the whole of the chamber was carefully examined, but not the slightest trace of any thing suspicious could be discovered. The magistrate, therefore, and all present, asserted that if the thing had really happened as stated, it could not have been through any human agency. Schroeder begged to have an authenticated copy of the protocol, and of his deposition, in order to substantiate himself in all the newspapers, and to all inquirers as a true and sincere visionary, provided with the judicial attestation of his abilities:—but it suddenly entered the magistrate’s head to examine the bed in which the visionary had slept; he shook it, pushed it, turned it round, examined it, and hammered about it, till all at once, while striking hard upon the wainscotting, against which the side of the bed had stood, it moved up like a slide, and a communication was discovered with the second bed on the other side of the wainscot, and through the curtains of it a peep into a neat pretty little room.”—
“Zounds!” interrupted Barmann, with considerable vexation, and giving himself a smart slap on the forehead; but Wermuth, who had no conception of the true meaning of his exclamation, quietly continued his story.—“With no less astonishment, my dear Barmann, did Schroeder cry out at the unexpected prospect which appeared before him. All the company passed over both the beds into the adjoining room; there Schroeder immediately recognised the closet of his
