metallic basin. When an alarm of fire is raised, they strike several
times on this cup-formed basin, which gives out a very loud vibration.
Nothing is known of the origin of this work. Some say that the devil
placed it once during the night on the spot where it stands. In those
days people were as yet fools, nor was the devil any wiser, and they
mutually exchanged gifts.

The town hall of Goslar is a whitewashed guard-room. The Guildhall, hard
by, has a somewhat better appearance. In this building, equidistant from
roof and ceiling, stands the statues of German emperors. Blackened with
smoke and partly gilded, in one hand the sceptre, and in the other the
globe, they look like roasted college beadles. One of the emperors holds
a sword instead of a sceptre. I cannot imagine the reason of this
variation from the established order, though it has doubtless some
occult signification, as Germans have the remarkable peculiarity of
meaning something in whatever they do.

In Gottschalk's _Handbook_ I had read much of the very ancient
cathedral, and of the far-famed imperial throne at Goslar. But when I
wished to see these curiosities, I was informed that the church had been
torn down, and that the throne had been carried to Berlin. We live in
deeply significant times, when millennial churches are destroyed and
imperial thrones are tumbled into the lumber-room.

A few memorials of the late cathedral of happy memory are still
preserved in the church of St. Stephen. These consist of stained glass
pictures of great beauty, a few indifferent paintings, including a Lucas
Cranach, a wooden Christ crucified, and a heathen altar of some unknown
metal. The latter resembles a long square coffer, and is upheld by
caryatides, which in a bowed position hold their hands above their heads