mer plant is pleasing
in the tints of its leaf, and in the idea of cultivation and plenty that
its thick plantations present, yet there is a stiffness in the
regularity in which it grows, propped up by sticks; and it is so short,
that one's fancy as to its luxuriance, (especially if formed from such
poetry as _Childe Harold_,) is certainly disappointed. I made a
digression from the road up the little river Aar, which falls into the
Rhine near Sinzig. A more striking picture you cannot imagine. The
stream is remarkably clear and rapid, the bottom rocky, and its banks,
for a considerable distance, are literally perpendicular rocks. The Aar
is a perfect specimen of the mountain torrent; it rises in the Eiffel
mountains; and, I am told, in the winter does much mischief by
inundations. It put me in mind of the Welsh rivulets, particularly some
parts of the Dee. This _detour_ having taken up more time than I
expected, I reached Brohl, late, but in time for the supper at the
rustic Gasthoff, which, with a flask of Rhenish wine, and the company of
an agreeable German tourist who was staying there, made ample amends for
the fatigues of the day.

In setting out from Brohl by the stream of the same name, which runs
down from the Lake of Laach, where I was struck with the pieces of
pumice-stone, and the charred remains of herbs and stalks of trees
scattered over the marshes. I soon came to the valley, the sides of
which are composed of what is called, in the language of geology,
_tufa_, and in that of the country, _dukstein_, or _trass_. It is a
stone, or a hard clay, of a dull blueish colour, and when dry, it
assumes a shade of light gray. An immense quantity is quarried
throughout the valley, and is sent down the Rhine to Holland, where it
is in great request for building. The village of Nippes owes its origin
to the trade in trass, having been founded by a Dutchman, who settled
there about a century ago for the convenience of exportation. The lower
part of the mass is the hardest and most compact, and is therefore
preferred by the quarrymen; as it rises, the upper part becomes loose
and sandy, and unfit for use. You must not suppose the stream to be
clear like the Aar, for it is as thick as pea-soup, and about the same
colour, being in fact a river of trass in solution. The banks, however,
are picturesque and well wooded, particularly at Schweppenbourg, an old
castle of peculiar architecture, built on an elevated rock, and forme