nd
bottles of Schlangenbad water a year as _eau de toilette_, and another
and still vainer sovereign three hundred a week. After this who shall
dare say that women have the monopoly of vanity?

Besides embellishing, the Schlangenbad waters are good in nervous
disorders, rheumatism, and asthma. They are of an exquisite light-blue
colour, and when bathing in them one's limbs have the appearance of
marble. That the Schlangenbad people think highly of their "cure" is
obvious. I bought a map of the district (manufactured in the place)
and found the word Schlangenbad printed in huge letters, while the
neighbouring town of Wiesbaden was in such small ones that it looked
as if scarcely worth mentioning at all.

LIEBENSTEIN.

Here in the Thuringian Forest, aloof from the stir and roar of life,
lies a Kur-Ort little known to the English world. Its waters are
analogous to those of Schwalbach, its air is as pure, its scenery more
beautiful, and its prices half those of the Taunus Wald. Its people
still retain their primitive charm, unspoilt as yet by the
potentialities of South African or American money-bags. Within easy
reach of such interesting towns as Eisenach, Weimar, Erfurt, Gotha,
and Coburg, it offers many alluring baits to the sightseer; yet to the
coming and going of tourists is it altogether unaccustomed.
Liebenstein lies in a green and beautiful valley, and the hills which
surround it are covered for the most part with great black forests.
Patches of wheat and rye vibrate in the winds which sweep up the
valleys, and the fields of potatoes alternate on the low grounds with
pasturage and orchards. Under the great limestone rocks, which near
Liebenstein rise sheer out of the plain, nestle charming villages, and
long avenues of poplars conduct you where you would go along the high
roads. By the roadside a wealth of flowers is yours for the
picking--wild thyme and asparagus and mallow, periwinkles, and the
picturesque dock and crowfoot. The woods are starred with flowers, and
the perfume of the pines is a revelation.

The humbler houses of Liebenstein (for the greater part timber-framed
and red-tiled) straggle up the immediate hills which surround it.
Those of more pretention and inevitable ugliness range themselves
decently and in order along two parallel roads. Aloof as this village
is from "the madding crowd's ignoble strife," it has yet been touched
to its undoing by the ruthless