igent traveller may find much to delight and interest
on the banks of the Rhine, always provided that he suits his mood to
his environment, and takes but little of Rhine scenery at a time. For
surely between Coblentz and Bingen there is an iteration as regards
castles and ruins which is downright wearisome. Do we not between
these points find Lahneck, Marksburg, Sterrenberg, Liebenstein, The
Mouse, Rheinfels, The Cat, Schoenburg, Gutenfels, The Pfalz, Stahleck,
Furstenberg, Hohneck, Sooneck, Falkenburg, Rheinstein, and Ehrenfels?

Moreover, there is an affinity of form and colour and, indeed, of
situation between all these which produces the effect of perpetual
repetition. And we owe Byron a grudge for having written such trite
words as "the castled crag" in relation to the Rhine, since no
commonplace mind of the present day acquainted with his works but has
fallen back on "the castled crag" to describe Drachenfels or Marksburg
or Rheinfels, because, forsooth, its own English is too limited to
supply a better adjective. So it is that conventional and inadequate
English is perpetuated and individual force and expression are lost
because people accept the ideas of others and will not seek language
to convey their own.

All of which above prosing is the result of a day on the Rhine when
the thermometer registered 74 deg. to 84 deg. in the shade, and a white vapour
hid the banks of the river from Koeln till close on Bonn. At Bonn a
huge party of "personally-conducted" American tourists came on board.
Their sharp, keen, eager, shrewd faces and shrill voices proclaimed
their nationality at the outset. They were all obviously outside the
pale of Society, and their thirst for information and keen interest in
their surroundings were amazing. One learned before long that they had
"done" the Paris Exhibition and meant to have a "look in" at most
European countries before sailing from Naples. They took the whole
ship into their confidence before a quarter of an hour had passed; and
we shared alike in thrilling intelligences conveyed through the medium
of Baedeker's pages. "The castled crag" resounded from one end of the
boat to the other; and as for Roland and Hildegunde, the tragedy of
their lives was discussed, and exclaimed over, and lamented, until,
happily, a bend of the river hid Nonnenwerth from sight.

In emphatic contrast to the nervous alertness of the Yankee was the
spectacle of the middle-class German and his ways. He