They laughed to themselves, and held the whole story for a dream, save one brother, who found something very remarkable in it, and when he had a leisure hour he climbed the rock where the Treseburg had stood, observed the direction of the walls and the moat, and removed the moss, underbrush, and thorns. At last he seemed to have found what he sought. One clear moonlight night he mounted with hook and shovel to the ruins; there, where once the tower had stood, he measured three times seven paces to the west from the tower, and the same distance from the gate southward. Then he began to dig and soon came to a vault.
The following day the villagers who had gone to gather sticks found a vault broken in, and a half-rotten chest open, but empty, and on the ground around lay scattered gold and silver coins with an unknown stamp.
Legend of Volkmarskeller
On the borders of the wood stand the ruins of the ancient Kloster Michaelstein, which we pass, and go up the valley, the brook acting as our guide.
It conducts us first past a number of ponds, which formerly supplied the self-denying monks with carp for their fasts, and now swarm with speckled trout.
Low willows adorn the banks, and bathe their locks in the waves, out of which a thick wood of slender reeds springs forth.
Now the vale narrows, magnificent walls of rock rise, and picturesque waterfalls toss themselves down the stream.
Suddenly the forest grows thin; the vale divides itself in two arms, and in the dale to the right, we see, close by the red-roofed forage-house for game, grey rocks and ruins.
We ascend this dale, and stand by the ruins of the old church Michaelstein, the mother of the later Kloster.