er. They appeared anxious and
careful; if we happened to speak of the state of the country, they
always looked around to see if anybody was near, and if we even passed a
workman on the road, quickly changed to some other subject. They spoke
much of the jealous strictness of the government, and from what I heard
from Austrians themselves, there may have been ground for their
cautiousness.

We walked seven or eight miles along the bank of the Elbe, to Tetschen,
there left our companions and took the road to Teplitz. The scenery was
very picturesque; it must be delightful to float down the swift current
in a boat, as we saw several merry companies do. The river is just small
enough and the banks near enough together, to render such a mode of
travelling delightful, and the strength of the current would carry one
to Dresden in a day.

I was pleasantly disappointed on entering Bohemia. Instead of a dull,
uninteresting country, as I expected, it is a land full of the most
lovely scenery. There is every thing which can gratify the eye--high
blue mountains, valleys of the sweetest pastoral look and romantic old
ruins. The very name of Bohemia is associated with wild and wonderful
legends, of the rude barbaric ages. Even the chivalric tales of the
feudal times of Germany grow tame beside these earlier and darker
histories. The fallen fortresses of the Rhine, or the robber-castles of
the Odenwald had not for me so exciting an interest as the shapeless
ruins cumbering these lonely mountains. The civilized Saxon race was
left behind; I saw around me the features and heard the language of one
of those rude Sclavonic tribes, whose original home was on the vast
steppes of Central Asia. I have rarely enjoyed traveling more than our
first two days' journey towards Prague. The range of the Erzgebirge ran
along on our right; the snow still lay in patches upon it, but the
valleys between, with their little clusters of white cottages, were
green and beautiful. About six miles before reaching Teplitz, we passed
Kulm, the great battle-field, which in a measure decided the fate of
Napoleon. He sent Vandamme with 40,000 men to attack the allies before
they could unite their forces, and thus effect their complete
destruction. Only the almost despairing bravery of the Russian guards
under Ostermann, who held him in check till the allied troops united,
prevented Napoleon's design. At the junction of the roads, where the
fighting was hottest, the