His eyebrows, which were of the same tint as his
hair, were enormous, and overhung a pair of small, deep-set brown eyes
that moved furtively from right to left with the rapidity of lightning,
giving to his countenance a remarkably sinister expression. His complexion was florid, and the nose, which was large and
bottle-shaped, was of so bright a red that it made the eyes water to
look upon it, and spoke little for its owner's temperance. His ears,
large and red, stood out at the sides of his head like those of an
animal, and their orifices were carefully protected by fierce tufts of
red hair. The back part of his head was excessively developed, and the
jaw was large and massive. His arms were very muscular, and hairy as an
ape's, with strongly-defined purple veins, and his hands, the fingers of
which were short and stunted, were the colour of raw meat. The legs were
somewhat short for the body, and slightly bowed. My ancestor, as he scanned the grim features of his host, could not help
imagining himself a prince in a fairy-tale who had been lured by the
evil genius of the storm into the castle of some ogre, who would sooner
or later devour him unless rescued by the good fairies. The ogre was not
a communicative person. He had not opened his mouth once since he had
taken his seat at the table, save to toss down a glass of schnaps. At length the Englishman, curious to know something of the life and
habits of this mysterious individual, was the first to break silence. "You live in a very isolated spot, mine host," said he. "Ja," was the laconic reply. "Have you no nearer neighbours than those of the township?" demanded his
guest. "Nein," grunted the ogre. "And do you enjoy this solitary existence?" pursued the traveller. "Ja!" was the inevitable monosyllabic response. "I shall not get much out of him," said my ancestor to himself, and
again there was silence for the space of five minutes. As if searching for some topic wherewith to renew the conversation, the
student cast his eyes round the apartment, taking in at a glance the
minutest article of furniture or other commodity that the room
contained. It was a homely, undecorated apartment, built after the fashion of the
period, and differed little from most other apartments of the sort. If
it was remarkable for anything, it was for its extreme simplicity, not
to say nakedness, but there was one object hanging on the wall that at
once attracted the traveller's eye. It was a two-handed sword of
peculiar shape, and appeared bright and sharp as if ready for use. "Aha!" exclaimed the Englishman, fixing his eye on the object, "you have
been a soldier, I see." "Not I," said the host. "No? Ah! I see that your sword is not of the same form as those used in
battle. It is probably antique--an heirloom, perhaps." The man answered with a nod of the head. "I thought so," said the stranger; "and yet it seems bright and well
cared for. It has evidently been sharpened lately. Do you always keep it
well sharpened?" "On great occasions, yes," was the reply, and our host gave a peculiar
wink, accompanying it with a significant gesture with both hands, in
imitation of wielding the two-handed instrument over his head, then
slapping his own neck he uttered a low whistle and a sort of chuckle
thus: "Wh--ew!--click!" being his mode of expressing the action of
cutting off a head. "Ho! ho!" exclaimed the Englishman, "is that in your line?" The ogre answered by a savage laugh. At this moment the crying of a child was heard overhead, together with
the harsher tones of its mother scolding it. "Then you do not live perfectly solitary, as I thought," said the
student; "you have also wife and children?" "One boy only," replied the man. "Ah! An only son--a great pet, I'll warrant," said his guest, finishing
his last morsel of supper. "What age may he be?" "Ten years old--fine boy--just like me--bringing him up like his
father," said the strange individual. "If he turns out like his father, he'll be a beauty," thought my
ancestor. Then he asked aloud of his host:

"And what profession may that be that you wish to apprentice him to?" "Like his father," was the curt reply; but it was followed by the same
sort of expressive gesture that I have just described. "What!" exclaimed the student, "to cut off people's heads?" "Yes," replied the ruffian; "I am a Scharfrichter." "A what?" inquired my ancestor, who though he could make himself
generally understood in German, had never yet come across the word
"Scharfrichter" in his vocabulary. "A Scharfrichter," repeated the man, raising his voice. "Don't you know
what that means? Why, one who cuts off heads." "An executioner!" muttered the foreigner, half-aloud. "Have I been
constrained to crave the hospitality of an executioner?" These words were inaudible to his host, but the ruffian evidently
observed a change in his guest's countenance when he informed him of the
nature of his profession, for he hastened to reply. "One sees at once that you are a foreigner, and unused to the customs of
this country. You shudder at meeting an executioner, and sicken at the
thought of cutting off a head. No matter, it is always so at first. In
fact, the pleasure derived from seeing executions is an acquired taste;
but I'll show you some sport to-morrow. There is to be some rare fun
down at the township at daybreak," and the wretch gave another wink and
a chuckle. "I'll show you how to cut off a head. One blow--click!--cuts
like cheese." "Horrible being!" muttered my ancestor to himself in his native tongue. "Is it possible that anything human can actually revel in such
brutality?" and he shuddered in spite of himself. Then he said aloud to
his host--

"What was it that first gave you a taste for so horrible a profession?" "Hm! I hardly know. I had a natural genius for it, I suppose. My father
was a butcher, and I was brought up from infancy to see cattle
slaughtered. At a very early age I took to slaughtering the animals
myself. I seemed to take a liking to it from the very beginning. I
happened to have an uncle at that time who was a Scharfrichter, and my
greatest delight was to see him cut off the heads of the criminals. I
began to long to do the same. "I was a very young man when this uncle died, and as he had no male
issue to take his place, and no one else seemed to come forward, I
thought I would offer my services, and they were accepted. I have been
headsman of the town these thirty years, and when I die my son will step
into my shoes." "But if he doesn't take to it?" "He _must_ take to it--he'll _have_ to take to it." "Why, are there not many other noble professions just as inviting as
that of chopping off the heads of one's fellow-mortals?" "Not for the son of a headsman. I see you are ignorant of the laws of
this country.