His doubt and perplexity now increased every moment, and he quickened his steps towards his own dwelling; he hardly knew it, it was so much decayed; and before the door lay a strange goatherd’s boy, with a dog apparently at the last extreme of age, that snarled when he spoke to him.  He entered the house through an opening, which had formerly been closed by a door.  All was waste and void within; he staggered out as if he had lost his senses, calling on his wife and children by their names; but no one heard—­none answered.  Before long, a crowd of women and children had collected around the strange old man, with the long hoary beard, and all inquired what it was he was seeking after.  This was almost too much; to be thus questioned before his own door was more than strange, and he felt ashamed to ask after his wife and children, or even of himself; but to get rid of his querists he mentioned the first name that occurred to him, “Kurt Steffen?” The people looked around in silence, till at length an old woman said, “He has been in the churchyard these twelve years past, and you’ll not go thither to-day.”—­ “Velten Meier?”—­“Heaven rest his soul!” replied an ancient dame, leaning on a crutch.  “Heaven rest his soul! he has lain in the house he will never leave these fifteen years!”

The goatherd shuddered to recognise in the last speaker his next neighbour, who seemed all at once to have grown old; but he had lost all desire to inquire further.  Suddenly a smart young woman pressed through the surrounding gapers, with an infant in her arms, and leading a girl about fourteen years old—­all three the exact image of his wife.  With greater surprise than ever he inquired her name.  “Maria!”—­“And your father’s name?”—­“Peter Klaus!  Heaven rest his soul!  It is now twenty years since his goats returned without him, and we sought for him in vain day and night in the Kyffhaeusen mountains—­I was then hardly seven years old.”

Our goatherd could no longer contain himself.  “I am Peter Klaus!” he roared, “I am Peter Klaus, and no one else!” and he caught the child from his daughter’s arms.  Every one, for an instant, stood as if petrified, till at length one voice, and another, and then another, exclaimed, “Yes, this is, indeed, Peter Klaus! welcome, neighbour! welcome, after twenty years!”

VYVYAN.

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SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY

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ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS.

Since our last visit, many of the tenants have begun to hybernate, and tasteful erections have been made for their winter quarters in all parts of the gardens.  Several others are in progress, and a semi-circular aviary for British birds is already built.  The season is far advanced, and there have been but few arrivals of late.  The emus’ grounds have been enclosed with elegant iron-work, and several removals or changes