ar and tempest has passed over the scene. The hills around have
borne the armies of Wallenstein and Frederick the Great; the war-cry of
Bavaria, Sweden and Poland has echoed in the valley, and the red glare
of the midnight cannon or the flames of burning palaces have often
gleamed along the "blood-dyed waters" of the Moldau...

On the way down again we stept into the St. Nicholas Church, which was
built by the Jesuits. The interior has a rich effect, being all of brown
and gold. The massive pillars are made to resemble reddish-brown
marble, with gilded capitals, and the statues at the base are profusely
ornamented in the same style. The music chained me there a long time.
There was a grand organ, assisted by a full orchestra and large choir of
singers. It was placed above, and at every sound of the priest's bell
the flourish of trumpets and deep roll of the drums filled the dome with
a burst of quivering sound, while the giant pipes of the organ breathed
out their full harmony and the very air shook under the peal. It was
like a triumphal strain. The soul became filled with thoughts of power
and glory; every sense was changed into one dim, indistinct emotion of
rapture which held the spirit as if spellbound.

Not far from this place is the palace of Wallenstein, in the same
condition as when he inhabited it. It is a plain, large building having
beautiful gardens attached to it, which are open to the public. We
went through the courtyard, threaded a passage with a roof of rough
stalactitic rock and entered the garden, where a revolving fountain was
casting up its glittering arches.

THE CAVE OF ADELSBERG[21]

BY GEORGE STILLMAN HILLARD

The night had been passed at Adelsberg, and the morning had been
agreeably occupied in exploring the wonders of its celebrated cavern.
The entrance is through an opening in the side of a hill. In a few
moments, after walking down a gentle descent, a sound of flowing water
is heard, and the light of the torches borne by the guides gleams
faintly upon a river which runs through these sunless chasms, and
revisits the glimpses of day at Planina, some ten miles distant.

The visitor now finds himself in a vast hall, walled and roofed by
impenetrable darkness of the stream, which is crossed by a wooden
bridge; and the ascent on the other side is made by a similar flight of
steps. The bridge and steps are marked by a double row of lights, which
present a most striking appearance as their