who had been at work in the fields, were assembled.  They were all dressed in men’s jackets, and short gowns, and some had their hair streaming down their back.  The landlord’s daughter, however, was a beautiful girl, whose modest, delicate features contrasted greatly with the coarse faces of the others.  I thought of Uhland’s beautiful little poem of “The Landlady’s Daughter,” as I looked on her.  In the room hung two or three pair of antlers, and they told us deer were still plenty in the forests.

When we left the village the next morning, we again commenced ascending.  Over the whole valley and halfway up the mountain, lay a thick white frost, almost like snow, which contrasted with the green trees and bushes scattered over the meadows, produced the most singular effect.  We plucked blackberries ready iced from the bushes by the road-side, and went on in the cold, for the sun shone only on the top of the opposite mountain, into another valley, down which rushed the rapid Ulver.  At a little village which bears the beautiful name Anteschonmattenwag, we took a foot-path directly over a steep mountain to the village of Finkenbach.  Near the top I found two wild-looking children, cutting grass with knives, both of whom I prevailed upon for a few kreutzers to stand and let me sketch them.  From the summit the view on the other side was very striking.  The hills were nearly every one covered with wood, and not a dwelling in sight.  It reminded me of our forest scenery at home.  The principal difference is, that our trees are two or three times the size of theirs.

At length, after scaling another mountain, we reached a wide, elevated plain, in the middle of which stood the old dorf of Beerfelden.  It was then crowded with people, on account of a great cattle-fair being held there.  All the farmers of the neighborhood were assembled, clad in the ancient country costume—­broad cocked hats and blue frocks.  An orchard near the town was filled with cattle and horses, and near by, in the shade, a number of pedlars had arranged their wares.  The cheerful looking country people touched their hats to us as we passed.  This custom of greeting travellers, universal in Germany, is very expressive of their social, friendly manners.  Among the mountains, we frequently met groups of children, who sang together their simple ballads as we passed by.

From Beerfelden we passed down the valley of the Mimling to Erbach, the principal city in the Odenwald, and there stopped a short time to view the Rittersaal in the old family castle of the Counts of Erbach.  An officer, who stood at the gates, conducted us to the door, where we were received by a noble-looking, gray-headed steward.  He took us into the Rittersaal at once, which was like stepping back three hundred years.  The stained windows of the lofty Gothic hall, let in a subdued light which fell on the forms of kings and knights, clad in the armor they wore during life.  On the left as we entered, were mail-covered