STRASBOURG CATHEDRAL. 35 95 view long before the traveller reaches the town. This cathedral or minster is one of the finest Gothic buildings in Europe, and has the loftiest spire in the world, it being four hundred and seventy-four feet above the pavement. It is formed of stone and yet open like frost-work, and looks from below like a delicate cast iron frame. Yet there it stands and has stood, with the wind whistling through its open-work for centuries. Begun about the time of the Crusades by Erwin of Steinbach, it was continued by his son, and afterwards by his daughter, and after that by others, and was finally finished 424 years after its foundation. I am not going to describe it; but just stand outside, by the west end, and cast your eye over the noble face it presents. Over the solid part of the wall is thrown a graceful net-work of arcades and pillars, formed of stone, yet so delicately cut that it seems a casting fastened on the surface. In the centre is a magnificent circular window, like a huge eye, only it is fifty feet across, while the body of the building itself towers away 230 feet above you, or nearly as high as Trinity church, steeple and all, will be when finished. And over all is this beautiful netting of stone. When Trinity church is completed, clap another just like it, spire and all, on the top of its spire, and you have some conception of the manner the Strasbourg Minster lifts its head into the heavens. Among other things in the interior is the famous clock, which, till lately, has for a long time remained silent, because no mechanist could be found of sufficient skill to arrange its elaborate interior. It is about the size of a large organ, and tells not only the time of the day, but the changes of the seasons-exhibits the different phases of the moon-the complicated movements of the planets, bringing about in their appointed time the eclipses of the sun and moon, besides playing several tunes and performing various marches by way of pastime. It is a time-keeper, astronomer, almanac, mathematician, and musician at the same time. Every hour a procession appears on its face marching round to the sound of music, with some striking figure in the foreground. We waited to notice one performance, and the chief personage that came out to do us honour was old Father Time, with his scythe over his shoulder, and his head bowed down in grief, looking as if he were striking his last hour. Here lies Oberlin, and about a mile and a half distant, at Waldbach, is his house and library, standing just as he left them. Here for the first time I noticed the storks sitting quietly in their nests on the tops of the lofty chimnies, or stepping with their long legs and outstretched necks around on their perilous prome nade. There is one street in this town called Brand Strasse (Fire Street), from the fact that in 1348 a huge bonfire was made where it runs, to burn the Hebrews; and 2,000 were consumed, for hav. ing, as it was declared, poisoned the wells and fountains of the town. Ah! almost all Europe has been one wide Brand Strasse to this unfortunate people. Strasbourg is the great market for pates de foies gras, made, as it is known, of the livers of geese. These poor creatures are shut up in coops so narrow they cannot turn round in them, and then stuffed twice a day with Indian corn, to enlarge their livers, which have been known to swell till they reached the enormous weight of two pounds and a half. Garlick steeped in water is given them to increase their appetites. This invention is worthy of the French nation, where cooks are great as nobles. From this place to Mayence, down the Rhine, there is nothing of interest except the old city of Worms, immortal for the part it played in the Reformation. It is now half desolate, but I looked upon it with the profoundest emotions. Luther rose before me with that determined brow and strange, awful eye of his, before which the boldest glance went down. I seemed to behold him as he approached the thronged city. Every step tells on the fate of a world, and on the single will of that single man rests the whole Reformation. But he is firm as truth itself, and in the regular beatings of that mighty heart, and the unfaltering step of that fearless form, the nations read their destiny. The Rhine is lined with battle fields, and mighty chieftains lie along its banks; but there never was the march of an army on its shores, not even when Bonaparte trod there with his strong legions, so sublime and awful as the approach of that single man to Worms. The fate of a nation hung on the tread of one-that of the world on the other. Crowns and thrones were carried by the former-the freedom of mankind by the latter. What is the headlong valour of Bonaparte on the bridge of Lodi, the terrible charge of McDonald at Wag ram, or Ney at Waterloo, compared to the steady courage of this fearless man, placing himself single-handed against kings and princes, and facing down the whole visible church of God on earth, with its prisons and torture and death placed before him. But there was a mightier power at work within him than human will or human courage the upstaying and uplifting spirit of God bearing on the heart with its sweet promise, and nerving it with its divine strength, till it could throb as calmly in the earthquake as in the sunshine. Still his was a bold spirit, daring all and more than man dare do. The Rhine here is a miserable stream enough, flowing amid low marshy islands, and over a flat country, so that you seen to be moving through a swamp rather than down the most beautiful river of Europe. The boat will now be entangled in a perfect crowd of these mud islands till there seems no way of escape, and now, caught in a current, go dashing straight on to another; and just when the crash is expected, and you are so near you could easily leap ashore, it shoots away like an arrow, and floats on the broad lake-like bosom of the stream. Nothing can be more stupid than the descent of the Rhine to Mayence. Here I crossed the river and took cars for Frankfort-on-theMaine. Here, also, I first noticed those huge rafts of timber which are brought from the mountains of Germany and floated down to Holland. One was moving down towards the bridge, four hundred feet long, and nearly three hundred wide, sprinkled over with the cabins of the navigators, who, with their families, amounted to between two and three hundred persons. I supposed the spectacle of such immense masses of floating timber was one of the peculiar features of our western world, and I did not expect such a wild and frontier scene here on the Rhine. There are three classes of cars on the railroad to Frankfort. The first is fitted up for the delicate tastes of noble blood, though free to all. The second is better than any railroad carriage I ever saw at home, and the third very passable. Taking the sec ond as more becoming my rank, I sped off for Frankfort. Of this free town I will say only that the belt of shrubbery and flowers going entirely round it, with carriage drives and promenades between, looks like a beautiful wreath encircling it, and occupy ing as it does the place of the old line of forts, is a sweet emblem of the change that is yet to come over the cities of the world from the peaceful influence of the gospel. The two things that interested me most were, the house in which Goethe was born, showing by its fine exterior that poverty was not the inheritance of one poet at least, and the Jews' street, at one end of which stands the palace of the Rothschilds. The Jews here, as every where, are old clothes men, and the street is black with garments hanging before the dwellings to tempt the purchaser. The Rothschilds have built their palace at the end of the street, but facing one of the most fashionable streets of the town. Thus they stand with one foot among the Jews and the other among Christians. I was struck with one little incident illustrating the tenacity with which a Hebrew clings to his despised people. The mother of the Rothschilds still lives among the old clothes in the midst of her kindred, and steadily refuses to dwell with her children in their magnificent palace. Like Ruth she says to her people, "Where thou goest I will go, and thy God shall be my God." I love this strong affection for her persecuted race, choosing, as it does, shame and disgrace with them, rather than honour and riches with the world. Even here, in this enlightened town, until eleven years ago, there was an edict in force restricting the number of marriages among the Hebrews to thirteen per year. MINERAL SPRINGS OF WEISBADEN. XIX. A DAY IN WIESBADEN. 66 99 WIESBADEN is the Saratoga of Germany and the chief town in the Duchy of Nassau. The Duke is the King of this little province containing 355,715 inhabitants, of whom a little over half are Protestants, 5,845 Jews, and the rest Catholics. This small duchy is filled with Brunnens, or bubbling springs; but before I give a description of them, let me sketch a day in Wiesbaden. At five o'clock in the morning, the servant, in obedience to my orders, knocked at my door, and with a bright sun just rising over the Taunus mountains to greet me, I threaded my way to the hot springs, a short distance from the centre of the village. A crowd had arrived before me, and were scattered around over the open area, or passing up and down the promenades, carrying a glass of the steaming water in their hands, waving it backwards and forwards in the morning air, and blowing upon the surface to cool it for drinking. This water is so hot it cannot be drank for some time after it is dipped up, and the vessel containing it cannot be grasped for a single moment in the hand. A handle, therefore, is attached to all the vessels, in which each invalid receives his portion of the scalding fluid. I stood for a long time convulsed with laughter at the scene that opened before me as I approached this spring, notwithstanding the sobering effects of the early morning air. Now an old man tottered away from the steaming spring, bowing over his glass, which he held with trembling hand close to his face, and blowing with the most imperturbable gravity and dolorous countenance on the scalding fluid. Close behind him shot along a peppery Frenchman, puffing away at his drink, and swinging it backwards and forwards with such velocity and abrupt |