HANS VON SCHLOGGENBOCHS:

A LEGEND OF PRAGUE.

HAROLD W. H. STEPHEN.

PART I.-THE GHOST.

NCE upon a time, in those good old days when Bohemia was a separate kingdom, there lived in the ancient city of Prague a certain young man rejoicing in the unpoetic, but aristocratic appellation of Schloggenbochs. Johann, or Hans, von Schloggenbochs was the last of his race. He could trace his pedigree, with unerring accuracy, right up to Noah, and was proportionately proud; though, Heaven knows, other sources of pride had he none. His worldly wealth was comprised in the clothes he wore; an enormous meerschaum pipe; a ragged and discoloured dressing-gown, and a gorgeous smoking-cap.

The Schloggenbochses were always an extravagant race-the love of display being inherent in their nature; and each successive holder of the family property, for the last hundred years or so, had done his best to dissipate his patrimony; so that, when our hero came into possession, he found it so encumbered by mortgages that the yearly interest exceeded the rent-roll. Graf Bart von Schinkenstein, a neighbouring proprietor, whose family had proceeded on an exactly opposite principle to that of the Schloggenbochses, generously offered to relieve him of his difficulties.

Said Bart, "Thou art young-thou art strong. Betake thee to Prague, and seek thy fortune. Here is the wherewithal to keep thee for one year in luxury, or ten in competence. In return, thou shalt make over to me thy interest in the property."

Hans stayed not to consider, but closed the bargain; the prospect of a twelve months' spree in Prague proving too much for him. Thus did he, as he afterwards somewhat inaccurately and irreverently remarked, "sell his birthright for a mess of potash."