rg, and forthwith called on the ancient sage, whom we found with
the two or three ladies and gentlemen of his family. I saw at a glance
that they had the air of aristocracy. He received us very kindly, and
invited us to come to dinner and sup with him.

The Weibertreue is an old castle which was in or at the end of Dr.
Kerner's garden. Once, when all the town had taken refuge in it from the
Emperor Conrad, the latter gave the women leave to quit the fort, and
also permission to every one to carry with her whatever was unto her most
valuable, precious, or esteemed. And so the dames went forth, every one
bearing on her back her husband.

In the tower of the castle, or in its wall, which was six feet thick,
were eight or ten windows, gradually opening like trumpets, through which
the wind blew all the time, and pleasantly enough on a hot summer day. In
each of these the Doctor had placed an AEolian harp, and he who did not
believe in fairies or the gentle spirit of a viewless sound should have
sat in that tower and listened to the music as it rose and fell, as in
endless solemn glees or part-singing; one harp stepping in, and pealing
out richly and strangely as another died away, while anon, even as the
new voice came, there thrilled in unison one or two more Ariels who
seemed to be hurrying up to join the song. It was a marvellous strange
thing of beauty, which resounded, indeed, all over Germany, for men spoke
of it far and wide.

Quite as marvellous, in the evening, was the Doctor's own performance on
the single and double Jew's harp. From this most unpromising instrument
he drew airs of such exquisite beauty that one could not have been more
astonished had he heard the sweet tones of Grisi drawn from a cat by
twisting its tail. But we were in a land of marvels and wonders, or, as
an English writer described it, "Weinsberg, a place on the Neckar,
inhabited partly by men and women--some in and some out of the body--and
partly by ghosts." There were visions in the air, and dreams sitting on
the staircases; in fact, when I saw the peasants working in the fields, I
should not have been astonished to see them vanish into mist or sink into
the ground.

And yet from the ruined castle of the Weibertreue Kerner pointed out to
us a man walking along the road, and that man was the very incarnation of
all that was sober, rational, and undream-like; for it was David Strauss,
author of the "Life of Jesus." And at him too