The Lengmoos Witches

A rich peasant of Lengstein had a son who had travelled a great deal,

and, on returning home, he laughed at the repeating of the rosary,

which all the good peasants are in the habit of saying every evening.

His mother was very anxious about the profane ideas and behaviour of

her son, for he mocked just as much at every other usage of the holy

church, which he was pleased to designate as “jokes of the priests.”

One day several of his companions were sitting with him at the inn

called “Zu dem Ritter,” and there some one of them recounted that on

every Thursday night hags had been seen dancing, and carrying on

their diabolical practices on the Birchboden, which was close by; they

were seen arriving on the mountain from all parts, riding on black

bricks, and holding there their unholy Sabbath. On hearing this, the

rich peasant’s son laughed loudly, and said, “Wait, there I will dance

with them;” for it was just Thursday evening. His friends advised him

not to do so, but, in spite of their warnings, he set off, and they

accompanied him up to the Mittelberg, where stands the Kebelschmiede,

and where the wild stream of the Finsterbach rushes through a fearful

gully. From thence, the young fellow ran singing gaily through the

forest to where there is an open spot, called the Birchboden, and where

numberless pyramids of porphyry rise to the height of twenty and thirty

feet above the ground.

There he saw the frantic witches dancing and jumping together, and

performing all sorts of tricks. This pleased the mad young man, and

he ran to take part in their unholy dance; but when the huge clock of

the magnificent monastery of Lengmoos struck _one_, the Finsterbach

foamed wildly up, and the pyramids of porphyry tottered to their very

base. This the friends of the peasant, who were waiting for him, saw

perfectly well, and a wild storm of wind and hail came suddenly on, so

that they were obliged to take refuge in the hut of the Kebelschmid

(Kebelsmith). There they waited until the morning Angelus had rung,

at which moment they knew that the hags’ power would come to an end,

and then they went to the witches’ ground. But how terrified were they

when they found their wicked comrade transformed into a stone, and

fixed firmly into the earth, so that only three-quarters of him could

be seen. His stone form still remains on this dreadful spot, and no

green--not even an atom of moss--will grow over the head, body, hands,

or feet of the “Witch-dancer.”

After nightfall no one dares to approach the scene of this terrible

retribution, where stands so fearful a warning to all mockers and

despisers of religion.