I was not long in finding out the learned and venerable Schweighaeuser, who had retired here, for a few weeks, for the benefit of the waters—­which flow from hot springs, and which are said to perform wonders.  Rheumatism, debility, ague, and I know not what disorders, receive their respective and certain cures from bathing in these tepid waters.  I found the Professor in a lodging house, attached to the second hotel which we had visited on our arrival.  I sent up my name, with a letter of introduction which I had received from his Son.  I was made most welcome.  In this celebrated Greek scholar, and editor of some of the most difficult ancient Greek authors, I beheld a figure advanced in years—­somewhere about seventy-five—­tall, slim, but upright, and firm upon his legs:  with a thin, and at first view, severe countenance—­but, when animated by conversation, and accompanied by a clear and melodious voice, agreeable, and inviting to discourse.  The Professor was accompanied by one of his daughters; strongly resembling her brother, who had shewn me so much kindness at Strasbourg.  She told me her father was fast recovering strength; and the old gentleman, as well as his daughter, strongly invited us to dinner; an invitation which we were compelled to decline.

On leaving, I walked nearly all over the town, and its immediate environs:  but my first object was the CHURCH, upon the top of the hill; from which the earliest (Protestant) congregation were about to depart—­not before I arrived in time to hear some excellently good vocal and instrumental music, from the front seat of a transverse gallery.  There was much in this church which had an English air about it:  but my attention was chiefly directed to some bronze monuments towards the eastern extremity, near the altar; and fenced off, if I remember rightly, by some rails from the nave and side aisles.  Of these monuments, the earliest is that of Frederick, Bishop of Treves.  He died in 1517, in his 59th year.  The figure of him is recumbent:  with a mitre on his head, and a quilted mail for his apron.  The body is also protected, in parts, with plate armour.  He wears a ring upon each of the first three fingers of his right hand.  It is an admirable piece of workmanship:  bold, sharp, correct, and striking in all its parts.  Near this episcopal monument is another, also of bronze, of a more imposing character; namely, of Leopold William Margrave or Duke of Baden, who died in 1671, and of the Duchess, his wife.  The figure of Leopold, evidently a striking portrait, is large, heavy, and ungracious; but that of his wife makes ample amends—­for a more beautifully expressive and interesting bronze figure, has surely never been reared upon a monumental pedestal.  She is kneeling, and her hands are closed—­in the act of prayer.  The head is gently turned aside, as well as inclined:  the mouth is very beautiful, and has an uncommon sweetness of expression:  the hair, behind, is singular but