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NOVEMBER, 1881.-CONTENTS. Along the Moselle and the Rhine . . . . . . . . . . . . . GEORGE BANCROFT GRIFFITH .... 389 "Nicht Versteh'"...

...... EGBERT L. BANGS . ........... 398 Electricity-the Force of the Future ...... ...JOHN A. BOWER . . . . . . . . . . 399 Lora-A Pastoral-MOVEMENT XI. ............. PAUL PASTNOR ............ 405 Wild Fruit ...............

.... JAMES SHAW .............406 Kith and Kin--CHAPTERS XXIV. XXV. ..

.... THE AUTHOR OF “THE FIRST VIOLIN" .409 The Furies ........................

.... SCHILLER .............. 423 Love's Jealousy .......... ..

... Mosse MACDONALD ..........424 Marriage Notes ...................... SARAH WINTER KELLOGG .......425 Dean Stanley .......

......R. H. S.......... A Strange Retribution-CONCLUDED

. ..C. H. AMBERS. ...... The Bread we Eat ....

........ Magnus DWIGHT ......

IT ...........450 The Charms of Music ................... ARCHIE A. Du Bois .......... 460 Lost and Found. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Current Topics:

Our Honored Dead-The Geographical Congress—Irish and English--Speculative Insurance-Dreams

Medical Criticism ...................................... 405 Literature and Art:

A Prince of Breffny-Boston Town-Sir John Franklin-The Bridal Eve-Letters of Madame de Rémusat

-The Quartet-Lorimer and Wife Skeleton in the House-Goethe-Schopenhauer-Art and the Artless

- The Aim and Scope of Art Teaching ............................. 408 Home and Society:

Our Home--Gossip and Scandal - The Art of Needlework-The Girls .............. Pot-Pourri:

Children-A Man of Tact-The Collecting Mania-An Odd Prayer" King Solomon,” etc. ....


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.... 464


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...... 386 RUINS OF GRAFENBERG ....

:::::.... 387 THE VALLEY OF THE MOSELLE....

....... 389 BEILSTEIN ............ MARIENBERG CASTLE .....

393 BERNKASTEL ...........

. . . . . . . . . . . 395 STREET SCENE IN BERNKASTEL.....



. 400 A HELIX OF WIRE-FIG. 3 ...

· · · · · · · · · · .401 CLARKE'S MACHINE-Fig. 4 ........

... . .. .. ........... .402 ELECTRIC FORCE FROM THE FALLS OF NIAGARA-FIG. 5 .. WILD FRUIT .....

• • • • • • • • • . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4o7 NATURE'S OFFERINGS ................... ARTITUR PENRHYN STANLEY ....................................437 MUSIC-BIRDS IN THE NIGHT ...,

.......463 LOST AND FOUND .........

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 464

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617 Sansom Street, Philadelphia.

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Of saintly trust, of knightly pride,

Going forth as dread invaders. Perpetual visions crowd its banks Of stalwart steeds with blazoned flanks, That Eastward bore, in tireless ranks,

The old hardy-thewed Crusaders !”

We are gliding down the Moselle to its junction with the Rhine. The spot where a tributary flows into the main river is always noteworthy. Here the hills are of various formations, and the waters intensely green and of a crystal clearness. Ebrenbrietstein rises from the river in steep terraces opposite, and is cut out from the other heights by a narrow valley on either side. It is imposing and apparently impenetrable. Casemates yawn from each terrace, and the whole surface is intersected by massive walls and occasional stone stairways. Glancing up the Rhine !

“ Within whose broad, mellifluous tide

Invelerate souvenirs abide,

On the left shore are steep hills planted with grapevines and crowded with forests, and there remains only space enough for a railroad and highway between their base and the stream. Here and there, where a brook forces its way through a narrow cleft in the hills, a village nestles, with ove row of houses to the Rhine, while the others crowd up the tiny valley. Ou

the right shore, where the Salm flows into the sleeps dreamlessly under the winter snows! These Rhine, the hills are lower and the vallys broader, scenes haunt the traveler for years. The day but they soon push forward to the river, and before, I had crossed the market-place of Coblentz, where the eye glides up the steep and sterile rock, threaded my way into a side street, and soon to which Marxburg clings dizzily, they have left came out to the Moselle. Pausing on the middle but a few narrow fields at their base. Above arch, I watched the clear green flood, eddying Marxburg the hills crowd past each other, and cut and foaming round the stone piles, and listened off the Rhine from our view; but it is still long to the murmurs of the waves which had washed traceable through the day by the conical hills the base of the low hills and the edges of fertile which guard its shores, and in the evening by fields, all the long way from sunny France. The the silvery veil which floats above its surface. eager little wavelets trembled impatiently against The Moselle is visible but a short distance above the shining stones, over and over each other, and its junction, where it sweeps in a large curve past whirling bits of wood, nor were they quiet around the city of Coblentz. Upon the low, till they sank with a faint murmur beneath a white sloping hills of the further shore are several line of foam into the arms of the Rhine Aowing pretty villages and well-tilled farms. With the gently past. At the right lay the city. Old exception of Rolandseck, this is regarded by patrician houses looked over the low stone wall many as the most beautiful spot on the Rhine. bordering the river; here a balcony crowded

between outjutting buildings, there a bay-window “ What Christly influence wraps this stream, With delicate sanctity supreme,

hung airily upon a commanding corner, and upon Like slumberous mists that brood and gleam

slanting roofs arched and pointed dormer windows When summer dawns are breathless!

crouched as if weary from a long fight. Many What songs its haunted bosom sings

a window was open to the sweet spring air, and of reverend legendary things,

as muslin curtains swung back and forth, revealing In sost, mediæval murmurings,

blooming hyacinths and budding camelias, my Melodiously deathless !"

thoughts went back nearly a hundred years. I Who that has once heard the soft ripple of the almost wondered that I did not see some of the green Rhine can ever forget it? And how beau- beautiful women of the French emigration, who

were one day fleeing from the guillotine, and another day on their knees, begging German rulers to lead them back to the pleasures and—alas !vices, to all the emptiness of a crumbling Past. How many a slender form may have leaned hungering and shivering in these high-perched dormer windows! How many a darkly-glowing eye may have faded while gazing up the blue Moselle for news from a quiet France, driven back into the traces of despotism.

Coblentz was the headquarters of the Emigrant army, and ihe small city was filled with arrogance and weakness. A friendlier vision also appeard to me while gazing into the swift, green waters. In one of these side streets stands the house where

Henriette Sontag was born, the great songstress, RUIN OF VELDENZ.

the pure but unfortunate woman. There were

two sisters, but one immured herself in a convent, tiful is the scene when the pear-trees are whitening, and she had the greater talent of the two. Which the valleys and the apple-blossoms are gleaming in may have been the happier? The woman whose the sun ; when the golden sheaves are scattered voice rolled up the dim aisles of convent chapel over the table-lands, and the heights are wreathed and broke in silence the fretted roof, heard only in the crimson shades of autumn, and when it all by a few bent nuns and sallow priests, and perhaps


by the angels, or the one whose public life was a again, and the train passed under the shadow of march of triumph over two continents, her voice Stolvensels, caught a glimpse of the delicatelystill ringing down the aisles of time, but whose traced chapel hanging upon the steep rock, then private life, shared with the dissolute Count Rossi, turned from the dark and dripping walls to the led to poverty and renewed effort, and a grave in | gleaming river, the friendly Lahn Valley, and the a foreign land? The whispers of the tumbling waves were unintelligible to me, and I cannot say whether a secret consciousness of great power is not sweeter to a proud spirit than all the applause which men can give. So musing, I returned to iny hotel.

And now the waning glories of the sunset warn me that my river excursion must speeedily end if I would join my companions at tea, and I turn back into the city by the nearest way, feeling that I had looked upon this lavish beauty for the last time. And with a sigh I bid the familiar heights, the lovely valleys, my favorite mountain, all good-bye.

Augusta, the Queen of Prussia, passes much of her time in Coblentz, and rules over the hearts of RUINS OF GRAFENBERG. its inhabitants. She has contributed large sums toward beautifying the “Anlage," a promenade, old town of Lahnstein, stretching from the city a long distance up the | lying quietly under the Rhine and thickly strewed with natural and artistic guardianship of the gray castle Lahneck. In beauty. She is known to be a woman of superior another quarter of an hour the train had swept intellect. The first years of her life were spent at round the bend in the river, one wave of light the Court of Weimar, and her first impressions broke upon the tinned roof of Lahneck's tower, were formed and trained by the “Meistersaenger" another upon Stolvenfels, then familiar balcony Goethe.

and cornice and chapel-spire slipped behind the Just above Coblentz is the quaint town of Rhens, wooded hills. The vineyards crept in serried famed as the spot where the German emperors ranks up the steep hill-side, and from their crests were elected in the olden time.

old castles frowned down upon the attack. Rough The next morning dawned clear and beautiful, promontories pushed out defiantly into the stream, and we were up betimes to take the train. Friends but we slipped under them, and the locomotive gave a last greeting, and almost like one in a came out with a shrill laugh of triumph upon the dream I found myself at the depot, and we were other side. We cannot keep the details of the soon fairly off again, wife and I, rushing along countless ruins which crown the Rhine hills, but between frowning fortifications; our destination, will try to here and there catch a voice full of Heidelberg. It seemed scarcely a week since the melody from the Past and give it words. rainbow that greeted us as we rolled over the Rhine | The “ Brothers" are two ruins near together, bridge had faded into blue air, yet more than a with a high blank wall between them. The story fortnight's light and shadow had been flung upon is simple and natural. There were two brothers the mighty stream, winding among its storied hills, who quarreled, swore deadly enmity, and built a since we had entered Coblentz.

high wall and broad between their two strongA bend to the right, and bridge and moat flew holds. Years passed, during which neither saw behind, and then the Rhine lay beside us, dancing the other's face. They had grown old, and were in sunlight and dreaming where graceful branches weary of tournament, song, chase, and war; the bent above. For an hour and a half we skirted flow of their emotion turning back upon itself, the shore, except where this was not possible, rested again in their childhood. One morning when we swept suddenly into a tunnel and out the elder brother climbed up to the top of the

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