ome width. Here and there it is
islanded, and its expanse averages about 1200 feet. The Taunus Mountains
divert it at Mainz, where it widens, and it flows westward for about
twenty miles, but at Bingen it once more takes its course northward, and
enters a narrow valley where the enclosing hills look down sheer upon
the water.

It is in this valley, probably one of the most romantic in the world,
that we find the legendary lore of the river packed in such richness
that every foot of its banks has its place in tradition. But that is not
to say that this portion of the Rhine is wanting in natural beauty. Here
are situated some of its sunniest vineyards, its most wildly romantic
heights, and its most picturesque ruins. This part of its course may be
said to end at the Siebengebirge, or 'Seven Mountains,' where the river
again widens and the banks become more bare and uninteresting. Passing
Bonn and Cologne, the bareness of the landscape is remarkable after the
variety of that from which we have just emerged, and henceforward the
river takes on what may be called a 'Dutch' appearance. After entering
Holland it divides into two branches, the Waal flowing to the west and
uniting with the Maas. The smaller branch to the right is still called
the Rhine, and throws off another branch, the Yssel, which flows into
the Zuider Zee. Once more the river bifurcates into insignificant
streams, one of which is called the Kromme Rijn, and beyond Utrecht, and
under the name of the Oude Rijn, or Old Rhine, it becomes so stagnant
that it requires the aid of a canal to drain it into the sea. Anciently
the Rhine at this part of its course was an abounding stream, but by the
ninth century the sands at Katwijk had silted it up, and it was only in
the beginning of last century that its way to the sea was made clear.

The Sunken City

More than six centuries ago Stavoren was one of the chief commercial
towns of Holland. Its merchants traded with all parts of the world, and
brought back their ships laden with rich cargoes, and the city became
ever more prosperous.

The majority of the people of Stavoren were well-to-do, and as their
wealth increased they became luxurious and dissipated, each striving to
outdo the others in the magnificence of their homes and the extravagance
of their hospitality.

Many of their houses, we are told, were like the palaces of princes,
built of white marble, furnished with the greatest sumptuousness, and
decorated