The next morning I parted from my friends, who were going to Heidelberg by way of Mannheim, and set out alone for Frankfort.  The cars passed through Hochheim, whose wines are celebrated all over the world; there is little to interest the traveler till he arrives at Frankfort, whose spires are seen rising from groves of trees as he approaches.  I left the cars, unchallenged for my passport, greatly to my surprise, as it had cost me a long walk and five shillings in London, to get the signature of the Frankfort Consul.  I learned afterwards it was not at all necessary.  Before leaving America, N.P.  Willis had kindly given me a letter to his brother, Richard S. Willis, who is now cultivating a naturally fine taste for music in Frankfort, and my first care was to find the American Consul, in order to learn his residence.  I discovered at last, from a gentleman who spoke a little French, that the Consul’s office was in the street Bellevue, which street I not only looked for through the city, but crossed over the bridge to the suburb of Sachsenhausen, and traversed its narrow, dirty alleys three several times, but in vain.  I was about giving up the search, when I stumbled upon the office accidentally.  The name of the street had been given to me in French and very naturally it was not to be found.  Willis received me very kindly and introduced me to the amiable German family with whom he resides.

After spending a delightful evening with my newly-found friends, I left the next morning in the omnibus for Heidelberg.  We passed through Sachsenhausen and ascended a long hill to the watch-tower, whence there is a beautiful view of the Main valley.  Four hours’ driving over the monotonous plain, brought me to Darmstadt.  The city wore a gay look, left by the recent fetes.  The monument of the old Duke Ludwig had just been erected in the centre of the great square, and the festival attendant upon the unveiling of it, which lasted three days, had just closed.  The city was hung with garlands, and the square filled with the pavilions of the royal family and the musicians, of whom there were a thousand present, while everywhere were seen red and white flags—­the colors of Darmstadt.  We met wagons decorated with garlands, full of pleasant girls, in the odd dress which they have worn for three hundred years.

After leaving Darmstadt we entered upon the Bergstrasse, or Mountain-way, leading along the foot of the mountain chain which extends all the way to Heidelberg on the left, while on the right stretches far away the Rhine-plain, across which we saw the dim outline of the Donnersberg, in France.  The hills are crowned with castles and their sides loaded with vines; along the road the rich green foliage of the walnut trees arched and nearly met above us.  The sun shone warm and bright, and every body appeared busy and contented and happy.  All we met had smiling countenances.  In some places we saw whole families sitting under the trees shelling the nuts they had beaten down, while others were returning from the vineyards, laden with baskets of purple and white grapes.  The scene seemed to realize all I had read of the happiness of the German peasantry, and the pastoral beauty of the German plains.