The name Giersfeld may be synonymous with Girdled Field, from gyre and the Latin gyrus, as also from the Saxon geard or gyrd, to gird, and the Danish gierde, a field girdled with stone monuments.

One pleasant summer-day we sauntered out in the company of others from the neighborhood of Bramsche, at the foot of the Weser Mountains, to visit this interesting locality. Soon, through forest glade and lane, we reached the old plantation house "Grumfeld,” lying embowered amid gigantic oaks. In the enclosure which the domestic buildings surround is of one of the best preserved Hünengraves in all the Giersfeld. These consist of numbers of formidable blocks of granite, each supported by two pillars or posts, the whole of the shape of a double capital TT, the principal monument being encircled by a series of smaller stones. The children of the family use these stones as benches, and the cattle were resting close to them and within the magic circle under the shade of the old oak trees. This scene was suggestive and of itself interesting. The owner of the Grumfeld plantation readily assented to join our party and walk out upon the Giersfeld with us. On the way we spoke of the probable manner in which these huge blocks of stone could have been moved in an age when mechanical ingenuity was dormant and our present appliances unknown. The theory of the Grumfeld possessor was both novel and ingenious. "I have often thought about it," he said; "the giants must have transported these stones during the winter over the snow and ice. On the frozen ground there would be no difficulty in moving them." "But," it was rejoined, "how could the horizontal blocks have been raised upon their posts? "Much in the same way. After the posts had been placed over the grave they were buried in snow, and upon an inclined plane, also made of snow, but little additional exertion would have sufficed to drag the impost upon its supports." We had thus speaking gradually reached the confines of the Giersfeld. There lay the graves upon the summits of the gentle hills by hundreds. The view from any of these summits over the city of the dead had something exceedingly melancholy and pathetic. There was a vast churchyard, or in the poetical language of the North, a vast God's acre, a Northern Necropolis. Utterly desolate is the view; the dry brownish heather shed a gloom over all, which was not relieved by the gigantic monuments of funereal gray, overgrown by moss and lichen. Was it the impress of the scene itself? The dense forests which on all sides surround this city of a departed race, though clad in a sweet green, had no effect upon us in lessening this impression; nor was the sun's bright glow, which now and then broke through the gathering summer evening clouds, capable of lending a brighter color to this dreary sight.

The scene in its utter desolation was well worthy of the artist's brush, particularly when an approaching storm chased the leaden clouds over the sky, and a sudden burst of the sun cast the dark shadows of the innumerable monumental stones in long and straggling lines athwart the broken heath. Here, we thought, was a spot and a scene for some artist-genius to gain renown in untrodden paths. To judge from the descriptions, neither the graves of Ajax,

of Hector, or of Achilles, near Troy, offer a more imposing and magnificent scene than this Germanic Giersfeld; and it is not at all unlikely, if Greeks and Trojans have not, that Romans and Germans at least have, fought here, since the field lies in the route of the legions of Germanicus, of the battle-fields of the Teutoburgian Forest and of Idistavisus.

From the interesting hills and risings of the field we turned to view two excavations. The larger has the form of a funnel, the upper circle being about 300, the bottom about 50, feet in circumference, with a depth of about 50 feet. The interior is overgrown with dense heather and underbrush. The other cavern has the same form, but is of less extent. Nothing whatever gives us any clue of their former uses, although it is quite evident that the hand of man made them; but popular superstition, as everywhere in the old settled regions of the Continent, has taken possession of them. "Thousands of years ago," so it is said, a wicked man's home was swallowed up at this spot. Since, the place has been haunted by the spirit Alk; and if any one dares to invoke the wicked Alk by name at midnight, the spirit, in the guise of a fiery wheel, will issue from the depth, and over graves and blocks rattle across the fields in pursuit of the hardy intruder." Many years ago, as we were told by the owner of the Grumberg, one of his ancestors - the domain has been in possession of the same family for many hundred years, and the thought struck us when looking upon the tall, wiry, and silent owner that his forefathers might lie buried under these Hünengraves a wild, merry fellow, was seated with his boon companions in the village tavern. They were talking on the farmers' usual topics, their crops, cattle, and horses, and each was trying to make the others acknowledge that his particular animal was the best and fleetest nag in the whole Münster Valley. "I'll bet you_nine pounds of silver," cried out the owner of the Grumberg, "that my gray can go as fast as old Alk himself on his fiery wheel!" The others laughed at first at this singular and foolhardy proposition; but the master of the Grumberg became so boisterously confident that they. fain had to accept the bet to humor him. Grumberg the next morning, when sober, repented, but it was too late; would he not be the laughing-stock of the whole Münster Valley if he now drew back? So he saddled his gray and rode out to the Alke hole, picking the evenest and shortest road over the giants' graves on the Giersfeld up to the verge of the ghostly habitation, and so at a fearful rate back again, to make his faithful steed acquainted with the perilous road the master was about to take that night. Orders had been given by him that the great gate of the court-yard was to be open on his return, and also that of the manorhouse, that the gray might know that he was to land his master, if at all, behind the blessed threshold of a home which no evil spirit would dare to enter. During the day Grumberg cared for and petted his steed, and fortified himself by three pious prayers to the Blessed Trinity that his sins might be forgiven, and that he might be saved from the frightful danger into which he was about rashly to throw himself. When midnight had come, placing his trust solely in God, he rode to the haunted hole. Riding close up to the rim of the abyss, he turned

his eyes upward to heaven, beseeching the assistance of all good spirits. It was a clear, starlit night; not a sound was heard anywhere, not even the bellowing of a fox or the croaking of an owl. His gray stood like a statue, with his muzzle turned to the cavern, and moved not a limb. All at once the bells in the villages around the solitary Giersfeld began to strike the hour of midnight: first at Ueffeln, then it was taken up by the bell in Merzen, and last of all the dull sound of the Alfhausen church-bell tolled out the hour. With the last stroke from the Alfhausen tower Grumberg raised himself a little in his saddle, and with a tolerably firm voice called into the hole, so that his challenge resounded over the whole sombre heath: "Alke, come! Are you going along?" From the cavern's depth a voice immediately replied: "Just wait a little! One shoe I've on the other will slip on by itself! There I am, and will soon have ye!" Quick as lightning Grumberg turned and spurred his horse, and as an arrow leaves the bow the noble steed entered on the race from the haunted chasm to his home, brave Grumberg on his gallant gray ahead and old Alke on his fiery wheel behind. The former had at first a considerable start, but with every jump of the gray the distance grew less; the fiery wheel came closer and closer, growing larger with every revolution, clearing underbrush and blocks of giants' graves at such bounds and at such a rate that Grumberg would surely have lost heart had he ventured to look behind him. But there gleamed already in the distance the large white gate of the court-yard with its wings full open; there beckoned the charmed threshold ; but one more minute and there was deliverance at hand. Both Grumberg and the brave steed took courage anew; they had passed the outer gate, and with one last desperate bound the gray landed his master safe in the very midst of the grange. The fiery wheel had at the very instant dashed furiously against the door-sill of the manor, and old Alke, foiled and enraged, had to return to his chasm as fast as he had pursued the rash better, since already the charmed hour from midnight to one was nearly spent. The fiery wheel had left two large charied scars on the doorsill, which were shown for years afterwards to the believing generations.

In this same region lies the Hümmling, an elevated region. The name signifies in the old Frisian language a moderate hill, to which perhaps the nearest English equivalent is "hump" or "hummocks," elevations somewhat like the hummocks of Florida. In a region which is almost interminably flat, the slightest rise in the ground becomes of interest and importance to the inhabitants. In early times it was covered with dense forests, which could not flourish in the neighboring moors, and in which the animals of the wilderness, boars, wolves, elks, buffaloes, and deer, whose antlers and horns are yet often found imbedded in the soil, sought shelter. The Hümmling was therefore in olden times, and is to some extent still, the finest chase in Northwestern Germany. Formerly it was known as the County of Sögel; it is now one of the possessions of the rich Dukes of Arenberg. From the Ems Valley, rich in villages, hamlets, woods, and plantations, a brief drive of a few miles brings

us into the black moors, in which no tree, no human form meets the searching eye. A dense mist had fallen, and only with difficulty we proceeded upon the stony artificial road onward. Gradually we perceived the character of the soil to change on either side to a light yellow, and through the mist we noticed some abandoned huts, whereupon the coachman informed us that we were now "on the Hümmling." Some twenty or more of these silent habitations stood there in the shade of old trees. Each hut had its wide gateway; they were the sheep-folds and summer-quarters of the numerous flocks of an inferior breed, the care of which is one of the principal industries of the inhabitants of the heaths, moors, dunes, and valleys of the country. These singular villages of sheep-habitations are scattered over the whole Hümmling and Bourtanger Moor, as they are generally in the valleys of the Ems. They are mostly situated upon the lonely heath, far from the haunts of men, and are duly marked upon the detailed maps of Northern Germany; we find them even now and then mentioned as having been the temporary quarters of the troops during the Thirty Years' War. A little further on we noticed several high and steep sandy ridges, completely perforated by the swallows, designated here coast-swallows, the hirundo ripuaria, who make these holes for their nests. On our way through one of the clumps of woods, the only remains now of the original forests, we found a rude hut in which from twenty to thirty black-looking young fellows were preparing their meal; they were charcoal-burners from the Thuringian forests, who every year come to the forests of Northern Germany to make charcoal and to fell trees. Two weeks after Christmas they will leave their Thuringian homes to work all the year round abroad, returning only a brief time before Christmas to be from six to eight weeks with their families.

Some two hundred or more years ago the Hümmling was as much dreaded as the lurking-place and habitation of all kinds of lawless characters as was not long since, and is perhaps now, the Bakony Forest of Hungary. A large gang of Gypsies had made their haunts here, to which, since the Thirty Years' War, another tribe of wild rovers, the Knife-Grinders, was added, who also had their homes and trysting-places in the wild forests of the Hümmling. Their trade of knife-grinders was but the pretext and not the business of life, and they were generally persons sought by the police and escaped convicts of both sexes. They, like the Gypsies, had their regular unions and commanders. It was not long ere deadly hatred broke out among these two dissimilar tribes of the Hümmling forests, ending in deadly strife. The Gypsies, these races maudites, had at first the great preponderance in numbers, and the Grinders evaded any meeting with their irascible neighbors. But soon the tables were turned, and a series of the most savage deeds were perpetrated. Every accidental meeting became the signal for bloodshed between. the races, and atrocities are recounted scarcely less horrible than those of the North American Indians. The conquered and wounded on both sides were treated in the most inhuman manner, as, for instance, by cutting the sinews of the heels and ankles. In the beginning of the last century this race-feud came at last to a grand battle,

near the village of Appledorn, in which the Gypsies were driven from. the field. The last Gypsy, with the name of Baromonto, died in the little village of Kleinbersen, on the edge of the Hümmling, an old blind man of one hundred years of age, not many years ago. The Grinders have long since disappeared.

The bailiff of Sögel, whom we visited, gave us some account of the ancient stone-monuments of the Hümmling. In a description published in 1742 the Hümmling had been represented as still having "many mighty stones set upon each other;" and in another history, that of Diepenbrock, it was, much later, mentioned that: "In no portion of Germany may Hünen-graves, grave-hills and urns be more frequently found than upon the Hümmling." Especially was to be found there the grave of the celebrated Hünenking Sürwold, in the woods of Börgen, a village on the Hümmling; interesting principally, since a verse still repeated by the peasantry seemed to have preserved the name of this king of giants. This verse runs as follows:

or,

66

'Hünenkönig Surwold

Lig begraven in Börgerwald,
In een vergolden Hushold."

King of Giants Surwold
Lies buried in the Börge Wold,
In a coffin of burnished gold.

We were, consequently, quite disappointed upon being informed that the dearth of any proper building material, which threatens to destroy even the celebrated Giersfeld monuments, had already completely swept away the ancient monuments in the more accessible Hümmling. From the Hümmling the stones were transported to the river Leda to the town of Leer, and thence by sea to Holland. This has been the case with King Surwold's resting-place, and it is nowadays barely worth the time and trouble for an antiquarian or traveller, after having explored the Giersfeld, to seek for further monumental relics on the Hümmling. The only well-preserved grave is near the village of Ostenwalde, east of the capital of the Hümmling, Sögel.

We consoled ourselves for the deficiency and disappointment in regard to ancient graves by a visit to an elegant hunting-castle, built by a Bavarian prince in the last century; now owned by the Dukes of Arenberg. Great herds of deer and boars were formerly found in the valleys and forests of the Hümmling. Nor were wolves wanting. The North German princes were wont to enjoy there the noble passion of hunting. The Counts of Tecklenburg came from the south, those of Eastern Frisia from the north; to whom must be added the Dukes of Mecklenburg and the warrior Prince-Bishop of Münster. In the 14th and 15th centuries such meetings often had, as now, their political significance. "When the Prince-Bishop of Münster prepared for the chase," says the historian Diepenbrock, "the peasantry from far and near were ordered to conduct from the town of Sögel the hunters' horses and dogs to the woods of Hümmling.' The ancient Sögel was then the central point of such hunts. Under the lead of foresters, the entire peasantry were placed around the forest to drive in the game. In the centre were lodges temporarily constructed, in