country begins to assume a different aspect. The city lies in a
narrow valley, and as the road goes down a steep hill towards it, one
sees on each side many quarries of gypsum, and in front the gloomy pine
mountains are piled one above another in real Alpine style. But alas!
the city, though it looks exceedingly romantic from above, is one of
the dirtiest I ever saw. I stopped at Herzberg, six miles farther, for
the night. The scenery was very striking; and its effect was much
heightened by a sky full of black clouds, which sent down a hail-storm
as they passed over. The hills are covered with pine, fir and larch. The
latter tree, in its first foliage, is most delicate and beautiful. Every
bough is like a long ostrich plume, and when one of them stands among
the dark pines, it seems so light and airy that the wind might carry it
away. Just opposite Herzberg, the Hartz stands in its gloomy and
mysterious grandeur, and I went to sleep with the pleasant thought that
an hour's walk on the morrow would shut me up in its deep recesses.

The next morning I entered them. The road led up a narrow mountain
valley, down which a stream was rushing--on all sides were magnificent
forests of pine. It was glorious to look down their long aisles, dim and
silent, with a floor of thick green moss. There was just room enough for
the road and the wild stream which wound its way zigzag between the
hills, affording the most beautiful mountain-view along the whole route.
As I ascended, the mountains became rougher and wilder, and in the shady
hollows were still drifts of snow. Enjoying every thing very much, I
walked on without taking notice of the road, and on reaching a wild,
rocky chasm called the "Schlucht," was obliged to turn aside and take a
footpath over a high mountain to Andreasberg, a town built on a summit
two thousand feet above the sea. It is inhabited almost entirely by the
workmen in the mines.

The way from Andreasberg to the Brocken leads along the Rehberger
Graben, which carry water about six miles for the oreworks. After going
through a thick pine wood, I came out on the mountain-side, where rough
crags overhung the way above, and through the tops of the trees I had
glimpses into the gorge below. It was scenery of the wildest character.
Directly opposite rose a mountain wall, dark and stern through the
gloomy sky; far below the little stream of the Oder foamed over the
rocks with a continual roar, and one or two white clou