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human, as he veiled his face with his hand, and turned away from the glare.

There was no more story-telling that night. Silent and scared, each man as best he could sought out the resting-place appointed for him.

I myself hastened to climb the ladder which conducted to my bedroom-a room of honour, no doubt, but certainly on such a night not a very comfortable one; for the same sort of long, low window as in the room below, ran round two sides of this one, and the pretence of a curtain could not conceal repeated gleams of lightning, which seemed to surround the building. My mind was cupied with the strange tale which

OC

I had just heard; and I could not suppress certain uneasy feelings about my own position and surroundings. But I fortified myself in the security afforded by my kinsmanship to Uncle Z.; and so, much tired, soon fell asleep. Still I dreamt, if I recollect rightly, about a vain endeavour to reach my mother's sitting-room at home, which I was continually hindered from doing by the zeal of my Newfoundland, who refused mysteriously to let me pass. But the vision passed into other phantasmagoria, and when I awoke in the morning I found the summer sun had already overtopped the neighbouring mountains; and, in fact, I had overslept myself two hours.

CHAPTER VII.-THE FOREST IN THE SUNSHINE.

All

All was ready for our departure, as soon as I had broken fast. was bright and glorious. The sun sparkled in myriads of tiny mirrors of rain-drops; and only the shattered oak, shivered into wedges of splinters, told outside of the destructive storm of the night. There was no pretext for any delay. The hangers-on of the inn were curious to see the English gentleman go away-he who, in some wonderful way, was a relative of the well-known Count Z. My grim host-for I remember he too was singularly ugly-stood grinning and bowing; and after holding the stirrup of my saddle, insisted on shaking hands with me: and though it was a ceremony which, as I said before, I was unused at that time to practise with my inferiors, half amused and half condescendingly, I allowed him to Then we fairly started. I and Fritz led the way; but first of all I cast a look around for the

do so.

story-teller of the previous night, but he was nowhere to be seen. Fritz seemed to guess my thoughts, and said

"Ulric has gone forward three hours ago. He knows the Forest so well, that he will reach home long before we can reach it: yonder, probably, was his path through the thick wood; we with our horses must keep to a broader and freer track." So saying, he began to descend the road, which led on in the direction below the lake; and as soon as we neared the stream which ran down the hollow, the road as usual kept pretty close to it. But it was so full from the rain of the preceding night, that in some places the torrent overflowed it, threatening to destroy all that came in opposition

to it.

We were travelling in a westerly direction, and a rude sign-post had intimated that the road ultimately led to Donauschwingen. I had no

With footing worne, and leading inward farre.

very good map with me, only a pocket-compass: but from a large Faire harbour that them seems, so in they

entred ar.

And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led,

Joying to heare the birdes sweete harmony,

Which, therein shrouded from the tempest dred,

Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky.

Much can they praise the trees so straight and hy,

The sayling Pine," &c.t

map, which I had tried to study when I was at Freiburg, it seemed to me all along that our route was a circuitous one. I spoke to our guide on the subject, who merely said that, long or short, it was the road he had been ordered to conduct me; but he added, "As to the general bearing, you are correct; but you will not long have cause to complain, for yonder, where the pine was broken by last night's tempest, we make another turn." And he was right; at the point indicated, a road descended oblique ly on the left from the side of the mountain up which at once we began to ascend, and I then found that now our bearings were pretty steadily to the north, with a slight Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast inclination to the west; and soon we were in the very depths of the noble Forest, which hung over the valley we had left.

I was amazed at the timber, so unlike any I could recall in England-so straight, so majestic, so wild, and yet with an appearance of having been cared for. Sometimes they reminded me of the warriors in the prophet Joel's army, of whom it was said, "They shall march every one on his ways, and they

shall not break their ranks: neither shall one thrust another; they shall walk every one in his path.” *

And again, often I found myself muttering the charming lines of Spenser (and who better has described forest scenery?)—

"A shadie grove not farr away they spide, That promist ayde the tempest to withstand:

Where loftie trees, yclad with sommers pride,

Did spred so broad, that heavens light did hide,

Not perceable with power of any starr: And all within were pathes and alleies wide,

* Joel ii. 7, 8.

There I confess that day the propriety of the quotation was somewhat lost, for some hours it ling pine," certainly. With many of was every where the pine-the "saythem it might be said with exactness, without the hyperbole Milton

Of some great Ammiral,"

"The tallest pine

of

would be required to compete. All my tree love was raised to the highest pitch, and was satisfied. Moreover, I think that I learnt on that day some lessons in landscapegardening which I have never forgotten, and which I continue to value,-although sometimes I have to pay dearly for the tastes I have formed, from the affronts done to its first principles, when propertytree property especially-falls into untaught, uneducated, and conceited hands.

But all this does not affect my story. On I rode, not only with the freshness of youth, but with the power of enjoying nature aright, into which secret my father's refined judgment had early trained and initiated me. Engrossed by

the quick succession of pleasant sights and sounds, I made but few notes of the haltings, and the villages, and a hundred little characteristics which, on a drearier journey,

Faerie Queene, canto i. 7, 8.

I might have occupied myself in making, and which, I daresay, at the moment, I persuaded myself that I was never likely to forget. In riper years I have made acquaintance with a passage in the writings of Samuel Johnson, which, on a careful perusal lately, I think were well worthy of their former reputation, and I have been struck with the truth of his keen observation on the forgetfulness of travellers. After speaking of the snares of imperfect mensuration, . he says:

"An observer, deeply impressed by any remarkable spectacle, does not suppose that the traces will soon vanish from his mind, and having commonly no great convenience for writing, defers the description to a time of more leisure and better accommodation. He who has not made the experiment, or who is not accustomed to require rigorous accuracy from himself, will scarcely believe how much a few hours take from certainty of knowledge and distinctness of imagery: how the succession of objects will be broken, how separate parts will be confused, and how many particular features and discriminations will be compressed and conglobated into one gross and general idea."

During my tour I might, owing to the frequent use of a note-book, which required a pencil rather than a pen, have fancied myself more accurate than most travellers. But alas! on looking back, I often find the hiatus valde deflendus, and missed the train of ideas which could have been supplied by a single line of distinct writing upon the spot. And so it is, that whilst the general impression of the first part of my journey on that day seems indelible on my memory, the reader is spared many details of the subsequent portion of it, with

which his imagination may easily dispense.

In due time, however, but late in the afternoon, we toiled up a somewhat tedious ascent, and found ourselves on a very elevated plateau, where some extensive clearing had been made. Here and there a few stunted pines seemed to have been left to shelter isolated pieces of granite rock.

My attention was also soon arrested by another feature-a small but rapidly increasing stream, of dark colour, but, as I presently discovered, of a depth remarkable when compared with the width of the water. This stream seemed to pursue its way with a determination and a fulness which became quite a fascination; and my guide, remarking my attention to it, uttered the words, "The Fallbach!the journey will soon be over;" and he pointed his finger to an aperture, which gave an entrance into a mass of trees which appeared to be a continuance of our old forest.

As we passed on, the stream disappeared round a lump of rock, and we did not catch sight of it again until we reached the wood, and then, for the first time, the roar of the cataract filled my ears, and I found that the Fallbach, now a large body of water, was tumbling over an enormous ledge of granite, and taking its first leap into a valley nearly 500 feet below us.

The scene was perfectly novel to me then, and I do not consider that my after-experience can conjure up any combination of rock and water which, in its own way, outrivals the exquisite beauty of this fall, or rather of this succession of falls.

The narrowed chasm which the immense weight of the water seemed to have worked out for itself, was overhung with pines in every variety of position - some having fallen across or along the stream,

and by their attitude looking as if they were to serve as bridges or sylvan balustrades, in order to tempt the traveller to a nearer inspection of this wonder of nature. Beautiful ferns dressed the dark masses of rock. Lovely flowers seemed to dare to stand in the strength of their own beauty, and to venture almost into the very vortex of the water, for though in general the sweep of the torrent was the characteristic of the fall, yet there were at least seven distinct stages where that character was interrupt

ed, and where the river, after some precipitous descent, seemed to pause and rest in basins which its force had hewn out of rock, before it continued its more hasty plunge.

A very steep zigzag road, or rather path, worn chiefly by the steps of the peasants, who had communication with the town ensconced below, brought us to new turns from which we could detect the not unwelcome sight to the weary, of clustering houses in the distance; and with careful steps our little cavalcade descended in the same direction.

CHAPTER VIII.-THE HOME OF UNCLE Z.

As the slippery path became level with the last receptacle of the actual cataract, I can remember that three steep valleys seemed to meet at its temporary resting-place; and the three mountainous hills which rose in the separate directions gave the name to Triberg, the busy little town of clockmakers, which occupied the valley in front of us. Down this valley the Fallbach still continued its impetuous course. But this was not at present our exact destination. Turning a little to the right, we proceeded to mount up a small hill somewhat separate from the wooded mass behind it, and we were soon at the summit, which was occupied by my uncle's home. A strange abode certainly, for one half of it seemed like the better class of farmhouses of the country-roomy enough; and from its situation, enabling the owner to arrange what might be called the farm portion of the establishment on the side of the declivity, so that the dwelling-house did not stand over it immediately, which added not a little to its freshness and repose. There was, however, the double staircase in the front, over which the roof

gave a complete and comfortable shelter.

The windows were long and narrow, and continuous round the house, very like the picturesque inn which I described in the former chapter, with its long hall and separated dais, so that the reader may easily picture to himself this part of it. But the peculiarity of this homestead was, that it was attached to the massive tower of an old castle. The tower was about three storeys high, and exclusively occupied, as I soon learnt, by the proprietor. Here was his study, which would have been spacious had it not been for the medley of the contents stored within it-books in old vellum bindings, pictures in quaint frames, weapons of war and of the chase, a strange collection of historical-looking furniture, a huge stove covered and concealed by tiles of ancient porcelain, and above all, an organ, with pipes diversely decorated, which occupied a large portion of this vaulted chamber. Above this room was the sleepingroom, and between this apartment and the modern house was oratory and a passage. The oratory was approached by a short stair,

an

which was also connected with the dining-hall and with the bedroom; whilst above this tier, again, was a lumber-room which had access to a small gallery, from which there was a view of the town of Triberg; and the tower was crowned with a sharppitched roof, surmounted by a weather-cock, and the figure of a weather-beaten angel.

All these peculiarities were not apparent to me at first, but they describe the general character to the reader, so that he may understand the sort of residence into which I was entering. At first the mere accidents of the scene served only to make the living inmates more conspicuously present with me. There was an old valet, a picturesquely dressed housekeeper, not so very old, but fairly advanced in years. I felt rather than saw that Ulric was on the other side, and I both saw and felt that it was Uncle Z. who was about to fold me in his arms.

I can see him now, indeed: a tall and rather gaunt figure, with somewhat of the bearing of a soldier added to a dignity which seemed peculiarly his own. There was a look of past cares in his expression, which seemed to be constantly repelled by relays of holy thoughtsat times by a devotional expression almost monkish; and still there was ever a delightful smile at hand, which united him to earthly interests, and which, I could fancy, endeared all mankind to him as a brotherhood. Yes; my recollection, if it was ever imperfect, would be helped by that old French miniature, which my mother kept always in her desk, and which I keep as religiously on the nail which marks the centre of my mantelpiece. The portrait is that of a handsome young man in the dress of an Austrian officer, in white facings and much gold lace, which has the material to form

such a face as I then gazed on for the first time. And yet, in spite of the superadded load of years, how incomparably superior is the portrait furnished by my memory! How much more there was to look at, in the story of struggles undergone, of temptations vanquished, of degrees of excellence reached by suffering, of a resignation which spoke of an inward peace, and gave a dim reflection of a coming beauty which would supersede every mark of sorrow, and be eternal !

Certainly there is sometimes a beauty of age which is far higher in its character, and more lasting, than the beauty of youth. But I do not say that it always ripens thus it is the result of many sorrows, and heart struggles, and disappointments, and of certain other ingredients, which, alas! are not often largely mixed up with the tale of human life.

Yes, I can see now both the form and the countenance, and they were set off by a velvet cap above the face, and an ample ruff of lace below, which emerged from a black tight-fitting coat, ending in pantaloons which grew tight as they approached the ankles, but which were really shrouded beneath in tall boots, having the appendage of a tassel at the top.

After the first embrace he held me back at arm's-length, as if to take an exact survey of every lineament of my features, and then with great politeness asked me after both my parents, then specially, and with marked emotion, after my mother.

"You are like her," he said"you are like her; and you are right welcome to her brother's home, such as it is. I hope you will find some interest in it for her sake, and that hereafter you may like it as some remembrance of myself."

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