The Dance of Witches.
There is "no holding" Caldecott now; on the "Hexen Tanzplatz," the sacred ground of Goethe's poetic fancy, within sound almost of the songs of the spirit world that haunt this lonely summit, he sets to work.
"Spectres of the Brocken."
The dance of witches, so weird and terrible, (as lately seen on the Lyceum stage in Henry Irving's production of Faust) took a different form in the young artist's eyes, whose fancy sketch from the Hexen Tanzplatz is reproduced opposite. He had been properly "posted," as he expressed it, he had read all that should be read about ghosts, witches, and spectres, and the result is before us. The last sketch from the dreary summit, showing the patient tourists waiting to see the view, was all we could get from him of spectres of the Brocken.
A Sketch at Supper.