Foreign Parts
A Journey Along the River Rhine

Foreign Parts.

A Journey Along the River Rhine.

Towards the end of September and the beginning of October, on our foot tours along the dykes, which protect the low lying meadows and cattle runs in the alluvial flats of the Lower Weser River, we observed enormous masses of tracks of field mice. These vermin had already, to the greatest part, devastated and devoured the roots of the juicy grasses, and in a wide circle around in all directions the fertile turf was perforated by the tunnel-like tracks of these pests.

These marsh lands, on the Lower Weser, are unsurpassed in their fitness for the breeding of splendid horses and cattle (Holstein-Friesian breed), and, therefore, the price paid here for land is very high. This fact has—also through the low and swampy character of these parts—prevented the establishment of manufactories, which at the present time are almost everywhere in Germany, especially on sandy heather plains, hitherto almost worthless, grow up so very abundantly. In these splendid alluvial lands the landlord seldom lives, as in times of old, any more on his lands, which have been the home of a long string of his ancestors; but he has moved off into the metropolis into great mansions, rents his run and farm buildings to thrifty undertakers who, in their turn, frequently sub-let to sons of toil, more eager for business than himself.

When we, on our journeys in these fertile plains, full of cattle and horses, but empty of men, met one of these sons of toil and pointed out the devastations of these field mice to him, he scratched his head and remarked: “Yes, our Lord God helps these mice so long as the fine summer weather lasts; there is for this vermin abundance, liberty and constant marriage, as it seems, for ever and ever; but for everything there is an end, as there was a beginning, and our Lord does not allow the tails of these here mice to grow too long, for when the winter frosts set in He helps the grazier, and the jolly fat mice-breed perish in hunger, desperation, cold rain and ice; and in spring time next year there will be again abundance of good grass here for the cattle.”

We observed also in the late season in this part of the world great swarms of a peculiar kind of crow, called here winter crow. They have light grey bodies (only wings and tails are black). Swarms of crows come from the Far North, from Norway and Northern Russia, before the setting in of the severe winter frosts, and it was a wonderful sight for us to see how these greedy, hungry birds of prey, from the cruel North, hunted these, by abundance fattened, cheeky and proud field mice, chased and devoured them in a jolly noisy hunt.

A whistling north-east wind, sweeping along over the endless, shelterless North-German plain, reminded us—as we were only temporary hosts from sunny Australia in these parts of the globe—to follow the already departed swallows and storks southwards. So we left on the 26th October the hospitable old nest Delmenhurst, and after a flying visit to the celebrated Bremer Frymarket (fair) and the gigantic Circus Carré in the late evening, we departed by rail early on the following morning for Köln (Cologne), on the Rhine River, which we reached comfortably at dinner time by an “omnibus train.” These slow-going trains stop at all the many stations, are remarkably cheap; and, therefore, just suitable for the class of people we are, for we know exactly our financial standpoint in this world. Also, Mrs. Fanny E. R. had in these “omnibus trains” good opportunities to listen to the many different dialects of the German farmers and small country folks, and look at the many different dresses, manners and styles of these people, which afforded her—native Anglo-Australian as she is—the greatest interest and enjoyment; and she is now quite convinced that the German people are not so misruled, low-bred, raw and idiotic as certain English literature—also in Australia—so religiously and eagerly endeavours to make the public believe, as if the writers of such literature had taken a special contract for wages in such “noble performance.”

On our journey from Bremer to Cologne, along the newly (besides the many other old lines) established railway line via Osnabrück and Münster, we had ample opportunity to see, with astonishment, how quickly, also here, development of trade and an enormous traffic of goods and passengers followed this newly-seated means of traffic. This line has a double line of rails, and every few minutes we met all sorts of trains; goods trains, with sometimes 60 waggons, quick passenger trains and lightning trains. The latter runs between Berlin and Paris, with very few interruptions, and rattling along at quite diabolical speed. The journey from Bremen to Cologne was like a flight through fairy land. We would have to fill volumes if we would undertake to give our readers a description of the thousands and thousands of manufactories of articles, which are, through a harmonious blending of science, industry and capital, riveted together by strict, honest management, wise economy, and trust and fearless confidence and credit, for the benefit of all nations on the whole globe, manufactured here out of the raw products of all parts of the earth, particularly of Australia—chemicals, clothes of all descriptions, paper, cement, chinaware, toys, musical instruments, ironmongery, machinery from the smallest parts of watches to the monster gun, and other formidable machinery for warships, steel rails and also accordeons. This article, like many others (always made in Germany), had in olden times to be manufactured for the middlemen in England, with English marks here stamped on. The Australian bushman had then to pay for such an instrument 30s, of which the manufacturer in Germany got from the then indispensable middleman only 4s 6d. At the present time the Australian employer of accordeons has for the same article, which in Sydney is direct imported from Germany only, 10s or 14s to pay. (N.B.—Where is in this picture puzzle the oppressor of the working man?) In connection with this paragraph, I have here to state that the vigorous opposition, lately upheld by the Social Democratic party in Germany against the granting of quite enormous sums for German warships and naval artillery, has lately quite disappeared. The old stereotype saying, “The warships are only playthings for the Emperor,” is not heard any more; also the strong Catholic party agrees at present in this warship question fully with the German Government.

In the country of the Ruhr and Wupper Valley, our train went through a veritable forest of gigantic chimney stacks; and the roar of smelting works, the thundering of gigantic steam hammer-works, and clanking of thousands of other sounds, was quite unhomely and bewildering. During many hours the train went through all shapes of manufacturing establishments and working men’s barracks. At last we went through a friendly landscape again of green fields, forests and along country villas, and then we arrived in the laughing, happy artists’ town of Düsseldorp. Afterwards our train landed at Mülheim and Deuz, and then we rolled slowly over the broad, high bridge across the Rhine River into the formidable, majestic old Cologne, where that for many centuries commenced, and in our days finished perfect and gigantic building, the colossal Cathedral, the dome of Cologne, earnest and in fascinating majesty looked down upon us—small wanderers. We have looked at this dome from all sides, from a distance as well as quite close by, with heads in our neck, steep looking up to its summit; also we had a good look round in its interior. Verily, we have quite gigantic trees (to 6, 8, even 10 feet in diameter and several hundred feet high) in the primeval forests and jungles of the Orara River, close to Coffs Harbour (our home in New South Wales); but such massive columns, as they tower up to a giddy height, to noble harmonious arches here in this wonderful dome, we have not in Australia; however, the gloomy shade in these hallowed halls here appear to us strikingly similar to our sub-tropic, also hallowed, virgin jungle forest in our beautiful Australian home on the Pacific Ocean.

Cologne, a very old, already by the Ancient Romans long before Christ founded and fortified town (called by them Colonia) was, like all European cities, strongly surrounded by huge walls and battlements, as in times of old outside these walls existed no security for life and property. Within these walls the streets were then squeezed very narrow, the houses high, and the rooms very low. Now-a-days, as the spirit of Christianity, the smell of gunpowder and the knowledge of the cheapness of the hanging ropes have spread about, human kind can securely rest anywhere (?) and streets, broad, clean and airy, are not only built outside the fortification walls of European cities, but far out into the healthful green country, not only in old Europe, but also in the remotest corners of the newly-explored foreign parts of the globe.

Comparatively new towns, like Berlin, could, as the extent of the narrowly-huddled together ancient parts were small, easily push their luxuriant, straight, broad, modern suburb streets boldly through this ugly cramped inheritance of narrow lanes and—like a Phœnix rise beautiful and perfect; but ancient Cologne, being too enormously large, and also possessing very many valuable architectural relics, could impossibly follow this example, and this fact is the reason that Cologne, the venerable, colossal old Colonia, deserves the nevertheless just blame of being in certain parts one of the crookedest, mouldiest, dirtiest, unhomeliest of all European towns. But the panorama of Cologne, along the River Rhine, as it presents itself under the here so pure sky, cannot be equalled by any town in North Europe, and also the streets outside of the enormous network of the old fortification town is not second in splendour, loveliness and dignity to any of the metropoles of Europe.

After a stay of two days in Cologne, we went by train to Boun and thence to Coblenz. We reached the latter place in good time to have a look at this beautiful and well-built city; and after a hearty meal, we set out to walk, stick in hand, all along this lovely river up stream to Mainz.

About this beautiful German River Rhine is, in all languages, so much said, sung and written, that we will, in these letters, forbear repetitions, but simply record our own fresh observations, impressions and adventures.

Alike in our Australian home country, have also, in all other parts of the earth, old or new, the big navigable rivers been chosen as first means of traffic and communication. So, like in Australia in the present day, on our rivers Murray, Clarence, etc., was in grey antiquity (long before Christ) the Rhine River, the main road for traffic of the people of Europe. And as on the streets, with lots of traffic always, mankind liked to live, there existed also on the Rhine mighty towns and a rich population, at times when farther inland only swamps, heather plains and impenetrable mountain forests existed in old Europe.

And as the first settlers found in the fine black slate, sandstone, basalt, etc., stones (a fine building material) the first “squatters” on the Rhine created, with help of their servants and bonded tradesmen, to whom they belonged as clan chiefs, fortified castles and burghs, and they made these buildings so firm and sound that moss-covered, weather-beaten ruins of them up to the present day appear to give record of these old years full of peculiar joy and peculiar troubles of old years, vanished since thousands of years, of times of which our reader may—if he so pleases—inform himself from the rich ancient and modern German literature. The oldest German poetry, the venerable “Nibelungen Lied,” which is as old as the hills, begins:

These old German words are, to a modern German, almost as intelligible as to an Englishman; but there are as many English translations of this old venerable classic romance, “The Nibelungen song,” as into new German, and the lecture is as interesting to an intelligent Britisher as to a modern German.

Our first buildings in the Australian bush were proud log cabins and slab architecture, covered with bark of the eucalyptus; therefore, they did not last so long as the stone buildings of those poor Dutch on the Rhine, who were in such a backward, uncivilised state, that they were not even in possession of clay pipes, matches and tobacco. But the stone ruins on the Rhine stand, although in another good old song is said:

Alas, our first buildings in the Australian bush—of wood as they were—did not last long, and wanderers, with billycan and swag, stroll cool and proudly by over the sadly scattered ornaments without thinking more of the “arebeit” (viz, labour) of the first pioneers, than the clouds of the cockatoos which, screeching, hunt for their food through the forests of New South Wales.

But the splendid Rhine wine, which on both sides of this river, on the stony slopes, under great difficulties and troubles is cultivated, and which, through its clear, golden, pure deliciousness is praised highly by all people on earth (who understand how to judge this article), and which is very dearly bought, and with great thankfulness drunk, gives us much to think: How many thousands of families on the sunny and beautiful mountains in New South Wales could, by the cultivation of wine and fruit (following the example of our friend, Mr. Lazar, at Harwood) make a living, as soon as a railway line along the coast, in connection with Sydney and Brisbane, would be constructed in these countries, which are under the bane of a jealous and narrow-minded ring of monopolising steamship owners.

On the first day of our foot tour along the banks of the Rhine, we reached Kapellen. After leaving Coblenz, which is a superior and noble place, and having a look at the formidable—like Gibraltar fortified—rock of Ehrenbreitstein, on the opposite (right) side of the river, we had a stiff two hours walk. The weather was fine, breezy and clear, road first-rate, skirting and overlooking the river, which bends as we go along, and has charming and highly picturesque shores. First we came to the clean little village of Kapellen, where on a high pinnacle, proud and beautiful, stands the castle “Stolzenfels,” restored by the German princes, kings and dukes, and made a present to old Emperor William I. We thought it too late to visit this castle—although it is very liberally opened to tourists—and walked on to the next village, Rhens. As we arrived just at the time of the grape harvest, many hotels were occupied; but we procured a very good lodging and supper in the hotel “Zum Schiffchen,” overlooking the Rhine.

There is such an enormous traffic, in spite (or perhaps in consequence) of the “cheap waterway,” that the numerous wine buyers were complaining that, in spite of the two double-railed lines of railways on each of the bankments of the river, in spite of the trains running almost every couple of minutes with goods trains of up to 60 waggons, and in spite of the constant steam tug service on the river, they could not get their products away, and had to wait.

It was Sunday when we reached Rhens, and all the people (real crowds) we saw promenading, and many going to visit Stolzenfels; but on the next day we saw all this population in the vineyards very busily occupied. In walking along in the morning sun we saw that they were, although at full speed occupied, in high glee. Not only women were in full work, but also oldest people of both sexes, and also small children (as during the time of the wine grape gathering schools are closed). All were as lustily singing as they were at work picking the grapes; while men, with long cask-like panniers strapped to their backs, carried the grapes down the stone stairs from one mountain terrace to the other, down to the broad cut road along the river into big tubs on oxen drays or on board of boats.

We bought and ate here many a pound of grapes, the price of which was 30–40 pfennig, equal to 3d to 4d. On many places in these vineyards we found a good many brambleberries (blackberries), which long ago, in the Harz Mountains and on the lands of the Lower Weser River, were destroyed by frost.

How the wine-grower in these parts successfully manages to keep the so-much dreaded wine diseases down, we were told by the good friendly people while we were resting on the wayside eating grapes and looking on the shattered ruined castles on the opposite shore.

We quite enjoyed our day’s walk in this interesting and beautiful part; we ate plenty of grapes and blackberries, admired the tattered buildings, or old castles, of Konigsstuhl, Marksburg; and passing through the pretty town of Boppard and several villages by 5 o’clock in the evening, we reached the town of St. Goor, and found a homely, very clean country inn called “Die Taube,” where we ate and slept well. Near St. Goor is the romantic and beautiful large burgh of Rhinefels, formerly the grandest fortification on the Rhine, and which has been destroyed in the times of Marlborough, in a time when the aristocracy of the neighbouring nations, from time to time thought it a kind of glorious sport to have a jolly war amongst the people of the then disunited old Germany.

On the next day we passed the much-admired and praised “Loreley Cliffs.” Here, on a sharp bend of the river, is a formidable protruding stone bluff, which has been very dangerous to shipping, especially in olden times of sailing ships. This headland is very high, steep and rocky, and looks romantic and beautiful, especially in the late evening or early morning, as at present, when the river here, down below, is quite dark, and the sunshine gilds the top of this enormous rocky bluff, and plays in the branches of the pines on its top. Sailor boys, coming down stream, and looking open-mouthed up to these playing sunbeams, and neglecting to look at the dark cliffs around them, might here come—as sung in H. Heine’s and Brentano’s poems—often sadly to grief.

From the Loreley rock, travelling upwards, we reached soon the town of Caul, which lays on the opposite (right) bank. This is the point where, in the year of 1814, Father Bluecher (as he was called by his soldiers), the Field-Marshal Bluecher, Prince of Wahlstadt, crossed his troops boldly over the Rhine, and marched straight into France, where he beat Napoleon Bonaparte and stormed Paris. Above the Loreley, the bed of the river becomes very rocky, and here are enormous river improvements conspicuous. The river hereby has gained a much narrower, but deeper navigable channel.

Along the whole Rhine River the high, mountainous bankment is planted with grape vines. In steep parts the soil is artificially underwalled and changed into terraces, connected by slanting stone stairs. But these troublesome and expensive works pay better than we should think, as here grows a specially delicious and highly-paid wine, whereby these lands have such an enormous high price, which can in Australia only be compared with some very high-priced town property in some parts in Sydney or other cities. But these facts I should, perhaps, better not divulge, so as not to inflame the “heroism” of some Dr. Jamieson to rush into “patriotic” deeds?

The cultivation of the grape vine is, in these parts, so very painstakingly and troublesomely executed, as we never before saw it done in Australia by anyone. Soil washed down from the heights, as well as stable manure, in baskets and tubs, strapped on the backs of the workers, is carried up steep inclines and put carefully on the vines, which are nursed and with great care protected against the severe winter frosts.

Old ruined castles, and also some lately restored and inhabited by gentry of our modern times, looked on this day’s foot tour so numerously down upon us, that we cannot possibly mention and describe them all. We reached towards evening the village Nieder-Hambach, situated close along the Rhine and above it, on the first rocky terrace the ancient castle of Heimburg, which used to lay in ruins, but which at present is very neatly restored and inhabited again. We stayed over night in Nieder-Hambach, and next day visited the castle Rheinstein, which is now one of the grandest on the Rhine. Here we saw works of art out of the oldest time of existence of humankind in these parts, weapons and armour, parchments, books and paintings of immeasurable value. Castle Rheinstein belongs to Prince Frederick of Prussia, and was often inhabited by Emperor William I. and Frederick III. It is in a most liberal way open to any decent tourist, and is situated on a high, rocky cliff, reaching far over the lands, and affords splendid views all along this beautiful and interesting stream.

From here we crossed over from the town of Bacharach to Assmanshausen, on the right bank of the river, and marched over the mountains, through the beech and oak-covered forest of Niederwald, to the grandest monument of Germany—to the national monument called the “Watch on the Rhine.” This is, indeed, a work just as colossal as it is highly beautiful, and without any giddy and superficial pose executed. In the features of the colossal figure is expressed, almost speakingly, the calm satisfaction for the victory of the white Teuton-Saxon race over the threatening invasion of black African and Arabic-Mahommedan hordes, led by the French; and not only this satisfaction is expressed in these noble features, but also the heart-rending mourning over the streams of brave and noble blood, which had to be shed in this short, but most desperate war of 1870–71.

Towards evening we descended from these hills down to the town of Ruedesheim; took a walk through this interesting, rich and very ancient place, which develops signs of great progress in latest times, through an important wine trade and manufactories of champagne. At dusk we went over the Rhine to Bingen, where we took up quarters for the night.

In these parts of the Rhine lands, which are not only remarkable through extraordinary beautiful scenery and very valuable ancient monumental architecture, through the latter is also proof given that here since grey antiquity, a diligent and highly-intelligent population not only waged battles, but also through centuries of peace, was in very active commerce with the people in neighbouring lands in the peaceable race for industry, sciences and arts, and this people collected wealth and happiness here through centuries. Especially at Ruedesheim, Geisenheim, Bingen, Bacharach and surrounding districts, manufactories of champagne, wine, and wholesale wine trade, is vigorously carried on at the present time, so that actually at Bingen the noise and incessant dust and smoke of the traffic robs this place of much of its former original loveliness.

After completing our tour by a short trip down stream to see the celebrated Maeuse-Thurm (castles of the mice), in midst of the Rhine stream, we took our road up stream again on foot, and soon, on the left shore, passed over that piece of ground where (at Jugelheim) in the year of 800 A.D. the first German Emperor, Karl der Grosse (Charlemagne) had his principal residence, and in a fortified burgh held his court, of which now-a-days nothing remains but the grand road to Paris, called by the French the “Rue Charlemagne.” This beautiful flat and fertile landscape, from Bingen eastwards (southwards of Rhine and Main rivers), and protected in the north and east by mountains, is that which, in 1870, induced the French (or more correctly the Gallians) to overrun the Germans with war, which took for them (the French) such a disastrous turn.

We reached the town of Mainz, admired the formidable modern fortification works, looked at the drilling and manœuvring of the German soldiers, of whom there are in these parts about 10,000 in garrison, and took many walks along the promenades, streets, public places, theatres, museums, and went along the Rhine to see the shipping, etc. We took up quarters at the suburb of Gonzenheim for a week in a restaurant, to spend some time in this place, where relatives of some of our Australian neighbours reside, to make promised visits, and give desired reports of our settlers’ life in Australia.

We had also in Gonzenheim, near Mainz, an opportunity—sometimes in company with intelligent inhabitants—to take walks in all directions through the wide flat and fertile landscape towards Mainz, where every inch, except that which is occupied for detached fortification works, is used for vegetable growing. The fertile moist land and the agreeable mild climate allows almost all the year through the cultivation of these articles, and one sees here—especially in the districts around Jugelheim—the grape vine cultivated on the flat acre, which gives the wine-grower the benefit, like in Italy, Australia and other warm parts, to use for the cultivation between the rows (instead of the hand-hoe) the plough or horse-hoe (scarifier); also we found in these specially by nature blessed regions the grape vine cultivated on trellises, as we saw it done (as described in our former letters) around Mount Vesuvius, near Naples, above the heads of the people, and very often on strings or wires from one tree to another, leaving ample room for cultivation of vegetables underneath. Vegetables not alone, but enormous lots of fruit, especially apples and pears, are cultivated on this flat land south of the Rhine and Main—therefore, the great production and consumption of cider or apple wine—and on all the very many field roads and highways are alleys of fruit trees often of very extensive size of stem and crown; sometimes also walnut trees of 2ft. and 2½ft. in diameter.

We left Mainz by rail early in the morning, and reached at noon the magnificent town of Frankfort, on the Maine. Near Mainz, the Maine River flows into the Rhine, and it is now the former which, running from east to west through this country, keeps this mild character, as the mountain chain north of the Maine protects the flat country in the south of this river against north and east winds.

Frankfort, on the Maine, is a very large, beautifully built, interesting, rich and very important old town, and so broad and clean are its streets, promenades and public places, that one thinks himself suddenly transported into Berlin, although the climate here is, especially at this winter season, very much milder. The climate of Frankfort, on the Maine, is almost Parisian. Thereto is added the vicinity of the broad, charming Maine River, and the politeness and jolliness of the strictly decent population, as well as the authorities. Very broad streets of palaces, as for instance the “Zeil,” run many miles, and are flanked on both sides by most magnificent rows of brilliant warehouses and stores, on top of which tower up palaces, suggesting the great wealth of the Frankforters. Also this town is highly interesting through architectural productions out of very ancient times, the viewing of which gave us much to think of, as it reminds us of a time long before the thirty years war: buildings of the time when Gutenberg invented in the town of Mainz the printing with moveable types, buildings of which we have none in the modern giant cities of the old and new world, or perhaps sometimes imitations of this antique style.

But a very original and quite brand new automaton invention we had the opportunity to behold in one of the great brilliant warehouses on the “Zeil,” opposite the Schiller Monument. This quite new advertisement, or reclame invention, had just, during our presence, drawn the attention of the public so enormously, that the street where it was, under sparkling electric illumination exhibited, was actually crowded with very elegant people of both sexes, especially of the female sex, who busily swarmed in and out of that smart store. The automaton consisted of a most beautiful life-sized wax figure of a lady, elegantly dressed, which in a style surprisingly similar to real life, bent down most gracefully, after turning her beautiful eyes friendly from one to the other of the public, and drew out placards with prices of drapery stuffs, etc., held them up, and after turning it round and exhibiting it to all sides of the great corner establishment, returned the placard to its place, and drew out another similar placard with cheap prices of modern drapery, etc. Surely we have seen many waxworks and automatons, but none so very life-like and apparently effective than this.

From Frankfort, we travelled by rail further upwards the beautiful Maine River to the town of Schweinfurt, in the Bavarian province of Francony. This country of Franken (Francony), previously reaching towards Bingen and farther, was—as is historically known—the home country of Emperor Karl the Great (Charlemagne), about 800 A.D. As his people, the Franks, afterwards conquered Gallia (the present France) these foreign Celtic Gallian tribes were united with the Teutonic Franks, and so, by heredity, got the originally Teutonic name of Frenchmen, quite in the same way as the old Celtic and Welsh tribes in Brittania got from the Teutonic Angles (from Holstein) and the Saxons (from the North Sea Coast between Elbe and Weser) the Germanic name Anglo-Saxons.

Be this now as it may, the fact is that here, south of the Maine River and Rhine, as in the whole of the ancient land of Francony, there are many places celebrated for their fertility, mild climate, and also for their springs of (in spite of its disagreeable taste) healthful, hot, sulphur-water springs, largely frequented in summer by sufferers of rheumatism; but I think it is mainly the most excellent and pure, cheap, wine and beer which, in so extraordinary quantities is produced, coaxes so successfully the great number of fashionable people from all foreign and home parts of the world to the watering places of Kissingen, Wiesbaden, Ems, etc.

Here this friendly, homely, clean country town Schweinfurt—where we stayed for three weeks, and where my dear husband, 42 years ago, for a couple of years was occupied, and where our task was now to find and visit some, against the ravages of time, struggling old friends, localities and buildings—is on the right (northern) shore of the Maine River, a lovely walk for many miles. This is the main road close to the river, along the vineyards on the southern slope of the mountain range running here from east to west. Here is cultivated an excellent old celebrated wine, quite similar to the Johannesburg and Geisenheim wine. The plantations are all situated in terraces, which are all carefully kept and underwalled by masonry. Every proprietor of these fine vine gardens has neat little summer houses and wine cellars, the latter driven into the solid rock of the mountain, all near to the very broad and well-kept road along the river. This, our favourite walk, runs up stream eastwards to the old castle Mainberg, and farther to the railway station Schonungen.

The Bavarians are jolly, happy, simple-hearted, blunt and frugal people. The poorest tailor does not envy the richest, for he can, with ease, get just as good (and enough of it) beer and wine as the latter. The Bavarians are also very conservative, and are much attached to their old customs and institutions, and also to their Royal Family; but also look with respect and estimation to the German Emperor, and the Bavarians are just as true and faithful Germans as Prussians, Saxons, etc.

This town Schweinfurt has about 15,000 inhabitants, and it is surrounded by a very wealthy, far extended agricultural district, inhabited by hard-working farmers, who are successfully and economically husbanding on their own small free farms. This town is altogether well off, and there exists on this sound foundation an independent nourishing traffic. Almost every day is here such a lively farmers’ commerce on the market places, and in the open, very broad parts of the streets, which are very lively and highly interesting for such people as we. There is for both of us really nothing more enlivening and highly interesting as to walk in the midst of the noise and bustle of this lively market. There is here not (like on the Bremer Frymarket, etc.) a noise of grinding organs, camasels with giddy, elegant damsels, and swells out of manufactories, or drunken sailors, etc., but here are thousands of farmers with their families and products: butter, cheese, eggs, fishes, vegetables, grain, pigs, calves, cattle of all descriptions, poultry of all sizes and kinds, fruit, firewood, brooms, game, etc. We saw one four-wheeled, large, ladder-waggon, on which were eleven strong sticks laid crosswise, and on each stick were ten hares hanging with their hind feet tied together, which made a transport of 110 nice fat hares for sale. Each went for 1s 6d; a fat goose costs here 3s, grouse 1s each, fat ducks 1s 3d to 1s 6d, butter 1s lb., eggs very dear, beef 7d to 1s lb., mutton 6d to 9d lb., pork the same. One liter (about one quart) of wine costs you, if served on the table in an hotel parlour, about 6–8 pence Engl; one liter of the very best lager beer (fresh from the cask) served to you in the brewery halls costs here, in Bavaria, 22 German pfennige, or 2½ Engl pence.

We occupy here two furnished rooms and a kitchen (windows towards the street on the sunny side), with two splendid feather beds, one sofa, one wardrobe, one easy chair, five other chairs, two tables; all brand new, and in best and cleanest condition, and pay weekly, including boiling coffee water, etc., 4s 6d. Our dinner, in a quite fashionable place, well-cooked and quite satisfying, costs us, including beer or wine, per day for two persons 1s 8d.

Next Monday (3rd December) our stay here is ended, and we intend going farther south to Nurenberg, Munich, etc.

H. and F. Rieck.