whilst such scandalous things are said as Rudolph has just been saying of our forefather Kuno. I’m sure, I won’t.” “If good angels stood by, and gave help to him and to the poor innocent man on the stag’s back, why nothing but right: we read of such cases in the Old Testament; and let us thank God, for that and all his mercies and marvels; but as to black arts and devil’s shots, I’ll not sit and hear such things said of our Kuno. What, man? Kuno died in his bed quietly and with a christian’s peace amongst his children and children’s children; but, the man that tampers with the powers of darkness never makes a good end. I know that by what I saw myself at Prague in Bohemia, when I was an apprentice lad.”
“Aye? what was that,” cried Rudolph and the rest: “tell us, dear father.”
“What was it? why bad enough,” said Bertram, “it makes me shudder when I think of it. There was, at that time, a young man in Prague, one George Smith by name, a wild daring sort of a fellow, not but he was a fine
