uld raise his head and look around him.

As we passed out the eastern gate, the workmen were busy near the city,
making an embankment for the new railroad to Heilbroun, and we were
obliged to wade through half a mile of mud. Finally the road turned to
the left over a mountain, and we walked on in the rain, regardless of
the touching entreaties of an omnibus-driver, who felt a great concern
for our health, especially as he had two empty seats. There is a
peculiarly agreeable sensation in walking in a storm, when the winds
sweep by and the rain-drops rattle through the trees, and the dark
clouds roll past just above one's head. It gives a dash of sublimity to
the most common scene. If the rain did not finally soak through the
boots, and if one did not lose every romantic feeling in wet garments, I
would prefer storm to sunshine, for visiting some kinds of scenery. You
remember, we saw the North Coast of Ireland and the Giant's Causeway in
stormy weather, at the expense of being completely drenched, it is true;
but our recollections of that wild day's journey are as vivid as any
event of our lives--and the name of the Giant's Causeway calls up a
series of pictures as terribly sublime as any we would wish to behold.

The rain at last did come down a little too hard for comfort, and we
were quite willing to take shelter when we reached Ludwigsburg. This is
here called a new city, having been laid out with broad streets and
spacious squares, about a century ago, and is now about the size of our
five-year old city of Milwaukie! It is the chief military station of
Wurtemberg, and has a splendid castle and gardens, belonging to the
king. A few miles to the eastward is the little village where Schiller
was born. It is said the house where his parents lived is still
standing.

It was not the weather _alone_, which prevented our making a pilgrimage
to it, nor was it _alone_ a peculiar fondness for rain which induced us
to persist in walking in the storm. Our feeble pockets, if they could
have raised an audible jingle, would have told another tale. Our scanty
allowance was dwindling rapidly away, in spite of a desperate system of
economy. We left Ulm with a florin and a half apiece--about sixty
cents--to walk to Heidelberg, a distance of 110 miles. It was the
evening of the third day, and this was almost exhausted. As soon
therefore as the rain slackened a little, we started again, although the
roads were very bad. At Betigheim, w