he cause that such a sweet incredulous smile plays around
their lips when we, with scholastic pride, boast of our logical
deeds--how we have classified everything so nicely into subjective and
objective; how our heads are provided, apothecary-like, with a thousand
drawers, one of which contains reason, another understanding, the third
wit, the fourth bad wit, and the fifth nothing at all--that is to say,
the _Idea_.

As if wandering in dreams, I scarcely observed that we had left the
depths of the Ilsethal and were now again climbing uphill. This was
steep and difficult work, and many of us lost our breath; but, like our
late lamented cousin, who now lies buried at Moelln, we thought in
advance of the descent, and were all the merrier in consequence. Finally
we reached the Ilsenstein.

This is an enormous granite rock, which rises boldly on high from out a
glen. On three sides it is surrounded by high woody hills, but on the
fourth, the north side, there is an open view, and we gazed past the
Ilsenburg and the Ilse lying below us, far away into the low lands. On
the towerlike summit of the rock stands a great iron cross, and in case
of need there is also room here for four human feet. And as Nature,
through picturesque position and form, has adorned the Ilsenstein with
fantastic charms, so legend likewise has shed upon it a rosy shimmer.
According to Gottschalk, "People say that there once stood here an
enchanted castle, in which dwelt the rich and fair Princess Ilse, who
still bathes every morning in the Ilse. He who is fortunate enough to
hit upon the exact time and place will be led by her into the rock where
her castle lies and receive a royal reward." Others narrate a pleasant
legend of the lovers of the Lady Ilse and of the Knight of Westenberg,
which has been romantically sung by one of our most noted poets in the
_Evening Journal_. Others again say that it was the Old Saxon Emperor
Henry who had a royal good time with the water-nymph Ilse in her
enchanted castle.

A later author, one Niemann, Esq., who has written a _Guide to the Harz_
in which the height of the hills, variations of the compass, town
finances, and similar matters are described with praiseworthy accuracy,
asserts, however, that "what is narrated of the Princess Ilse belongs
entirely to the realm of fable." Thus do all men speak to whom a
beautiful princess has never appeared; but we who have been especially
favored by fair ladies know better.