The sky was stormy, which added to the gloom of the hills around, though some of the distant ranges lay in mingled light and shade—­the softest alternation of purple and brown.  There were many isolated, rocky hills, two of which interested me, through their attendant legends.  One is said to have been the scene of a battle between the Romans and Germans, where, after a long conflict the rock opened and swallowed up the former.  The other, which is crowned with a rocky wall, so like a ruined fortress, as at a distance to be universally mistaken for one, tradition says is the death-place of Charlemagne, who still walks around its summit every night, clad in complete armor.  On ascending a hill late in the afternoon, I saw at a great distance the statue of Hercules, which stands on the Wilhelmshohe, near Cassel.  Night set in with a dreary rain, and I stopped at an inn about five miles short of the city.  While tea was preparing a company of students came in and asked for a separate room.  Seeing I was alone, they invited me up with them.  They seemed much interested in America, and leaving the table gradually, formed a ring around me, where I had enough to do to talk with them all at once.  When the omnibus came along, the most of them went with it to Cassel; but five remained and persuaded me to set out with them on foot.  They insisted on carrying my knapsack the whole way, through the rain and darkness, and when I had passed the city gate with them, unchallenged, conducted me to the comfortable hotel, “Zur Krone.”

It is a pleasant thing to wake up in the morning in a strange city.  Every thing is new; you walk around it for the first time in the full enjoyment of the novelty, or the not less agreeable feeling of surprise, if it is different from your anticipations.  Two of my friends of the previous night called for me in the morning, to show me around the city, and the first impression, made in such agreeable company, prepossessed me very favorably.  I shall not, however, take up time in describing its many sights, particularly the Frederick’s Platz, where the statue of Frederick the Second, who sold ten thousand of his subjects to England, has been re-erected, after having lain for years in a stable where it was thrown by the French.

I was much interested in young Carl K——­, one of my new acquaintances.  His generous and unceasing kindness first won my esteem, and I found on nearer acquaintance, the qualities of his mind equal those of his heart.  I saw many beautiful poems of his which were of remarkable merit, considering his youth, and thought I could read in his dark, dreamy eye, the unconscious presentiment of a power he does not yet possess.  He seemed as one I had known for years.