uring the Thirty Years' War and the late war with
Napoleon, it was the only place in Saxony unoccupied by the enemy. Hence
is it used as a depository for the archives and royal treasures, in
times of danger. By giving up our passports at the door, we received
permission to enter; the officer called a guide to take us around the
battlements. There is quite a little village on the summit, with
gardens, fields, and a wood of considerable size. The only entrance is
by a road cut through the rock, which is strongly guarded. A well seven
hundred feet deep supplies the fortress with water, and there are
storehouses sufficient to hold supplies for many years. The view from
the ramparts is glorious--it takes in the whole of the Saxon Highlands,
as far as the lofty Schneeberg in Bohemia. On the other side the eye
follows the windings of the Elbe, as far as the spires of Dresden.
Lilienstein, a mountain of exactly similar formation, but somewhat
higher, stands directly opposite. On walking around, the guide pointed
out a little square tower standing on the brink of a precipice, with a
ledge, about two feet wide, running around it, just below the windows.
He said during the reign of Augustus the Strong, a baron attached to his
court, rose in his sleep after a night of revelry, and stepping out the
window, stretched himself at full length along the ledge. A guard
fortunately observed his situation and informed Augustus of it, who had
him bound and secured with cords, and then awakened by music. It was a
good lesson, and one which no doubt sobered him for the future.

Passing through the little city of Konigstein, we walked on to Schandau,
the capital of the Saxon Switzerland, situated on the left bank. It had
sustained great damage from the flood, the whole place having been
literally under water. Here we turned up a narrow valley which led to
the Kuhstall, some eight miles distant. The sides, as usual, were of
steep gray rock, but wide enough apart to give room to some lovely
meadows, with here and there a rustic cottage. The mountain maidens, in
their bright red dresses, with a fanciful scarf bound around the head,
made a romantic addition to the scene. There were some quiet secluded
nooks, where the light of day stole in dimly through the thick foliage
above and the wild stream rushed less boisterously over the rocks. We
sat down to rest in one of these cool retreats, and made the glen ring
with a cheer for America. The echoes rep