Next morning we set out early, without waiting to see the trial of archery which was to take place among the mountain youths.  Their booths and targets, gay with banners, stood on a green meadow beside the town.  We walked through the Black Forest the whole forenoon.  It might be owing to the many wild stories whose scenes are laid among these hills, but with me there was a peculiar feeling of solemnity pervading the whole region.  The great pine woods are of the very darkest hue of green, and down their hoary, moss-floored aisles, daylight seems never to have shone.  The air was pure and clear, and the sunshine bright, but it imparted no gaiety to the scenery:  except the little meadows of living emerald which lay occasionally in the lap of a dell, the landscape wore a solemn and serious air.  In a storm, it must be sublime.

About noon, from the top of the last range of hills, we had a glorious view.  The line of the distant Alps could be faintly traced high in the clouds, and all the heights between were plainly visible, from the Lake of Constance to the misty Jura, which flanked the Vosges of the west.  From our lofty station we overlooked half Switzerland, and had the air been a little clearer, we could have seen Mont Blanc and the mountains of Savoy.  I could not help envying the feelings of the Swiss, who, after long absence from their native land, first see the Alps from this road.  If to the emotions with which I then looked on them were added the passionate love of home and country which a long absence creates, such excess of rapture would be almost too great to be borne.

In the afternoon we crossed the border, and took leave of Germany with regret, after near a year’s residence within its bounds.  Still it was pleasant to know we were in a republic once more:  the first step we took made us aware of the change.  There was no policeman to call for our passports or search our baggage.  It was just dark when we reached the hill overlooking the Rhine, on whose steep banks is perched the antique town of Schaffhausen.  It is still walled in, with towers at regular intervals; the streets are wide and spacious, and the houses rendered extremely picturesque by the quaint projecting windows.  The buildings are nearly all old, as we learned by the dates above the doors.  At the inn, I met with one of the free troopers who marched against Luzerne.  He was full of spirit, and ready to undertake another such journey.  Indeed it is the universal opinion that the present condition of things cannot last much longer.

We took a walk before breakfast to the Falls of the Rhine, about a mile and a half from Schaffhausen.  I confess I was somewhat disappointed in them, after the glowing descriptions of travelers.  The river at this place is little more than thirty yards wide, and the body of water, although issuing from the Lake of Constance, is not remarkably strong.  For some distance above, the fall of the water is very rapid,