traces of the ancient walls and battlements of
the city are still to be seen. The handwerker took us to the inn
frequented by his craft--the leather-curriers--and we conversed together
till bed-time. While telling me of the oppressive laws of Austria, the
degrading vassalage of the peasants and the horrors of the conscription
system, he paused as in deep thought, and looking at me with a
suppressed sigh, said: "Is it not true, America is free?" I told him of
our country and her institutions, adding that though we were not yet as
free as we hoped and wished to be, we enjoyed far more liberty than any
country in the world. "Ah!" said he, "it is hard to leave one's
fatherland oppressed as it is, but I wish I could go to America!"

We left next morning at eight o'clock, after having done full justice
to the beds of the "Golden Stag," and taken leave of Florian Francke,
the honest and hearty old landlord. Znaim appears to great advantage
from the Vienna road; the wind which blew with fury against our backs,
would not permit us to look long at it, but pushed us on towards the
Austrian border. In the course of three hours we were obliged to stop at
a little village; it blew a perfect hurricane and the rain began to soak
through our garments. Here we stayed three hours among the wagoners who
stopped on account of the weather. One miserable, drunken wretch, whom
one would not wish to look at more than once, distinguished himself by
insulting those around him, and devouring like a beast, large quantities
of food. When the reckoning was given him, he declared he had already
paid, and the waiter denying it, he said, "Stop, I will show you
something!" pulled out his passport and pointed to the name--"Baron von
Reitzenstein." It availed nothing; he had fallen so low that his title
inspired no respect, and when we left the inn they were still
endeavoring to get their money and threatening him with a summary
proceeding if the demand was not complied with.

Next morning the sky was clear and a glorious day opened before us. The
country became more beautiful as we approached the Danube; the hills
were covered with vineyards, just in the tender green of their first
leaves, and the rich valleys lay in Sabbath stillness in the warm
sunshine. Sometimes from an eminence we could see far and wide over the
garden-like slopes, where little white villages shone among the
blossoming fruit-trees. A chain of blue hills rose in front, which I
knew