(Unfinished)

Frankfort was a brief halting-place, their destination being Heidelberg.  They were presently located there in the beautiful Schloss hotel, which overlooks the old castle with its forest setting, the flowing Neckar, and the distant valley of the Rhine.  Clemens, who had discovered the location, and loved it, toward the end of May reported to Howells his felicities.

Part of letter to W. D. Howells, in Boston: 

         &nb
sp;                         Schloss-hotel Heidelberg,
                                   Sunday, a. m., May 26, 1878. 
My dear Howells,—....divinely located.  From this airy porch among the shining groves we look down upon Heidelberg Castle, and upon the swift Neckar, and the town, and out over the wide green level of the Rhine valley—­a marvelous prospect.  We are in a Cul-de-sac formed of hill-ranges and river; we are on the side of a steep mountain; the river at our feet is walled, on its other side, (yes, on both sides,) by a steep and wooded mountain-range which rises abruptly aloft from the water’s edge; portions of these mountains are densely wooded; the plain of the Rhine, seen through the mouth of this pocket, has many and peculiar charms for the eye.

Our bedroom has two great glass bird-cages (enclosed balconies) one looking toward the Rhine valley and sunset, the other looking up the Neckar cul-de-sac, and naturally we spend nearly all our time in these —­when one is sunny the other is shady.  We have tables and chairs in them; we do our reading, writing, studying, smoking and suppering in them.

The view from these bird-cages is my despair.  The pictures change from one enchanting aspect to another in ceaseless procession, never keeping one form half an hour, and never taking on an unlovely one.

And then Heidelberg on a dark night!  It is massed, away down there, almost right under us, you know, and stretches off toward the valley.  Its curved and interlacing streets are a cobweb, beaded thick with lights—­a wonderful thing to see; then the rows of lights on the arched bridges, and their glinting reflections in the water; and away at the far end, the Eisenbahnhof, with its twenty solid acres of glittering gas-jets, a huge garden, as one may say, whose every plant is a flame.

These balconies are the darlingest things.  I have spent all the morning in this north one.  Counting big and little, it has 256 panes of glass in it; so one is in effect right out in the free sunshine, and yet sheltered from wind and rain—­and likewise doored and curtained from whatever may be going on in the bedroom.  It must have been a noble genius who devised this hotel.  Lord, how blessed is the repose, the tranquillity of this place!  Only two sounds; the happy clamor of the birds in the groves, and the muffled music of the Neckar, tumbling over the opposing dykes.  It is no hardship to lie awake awhile, nights, for this subdued roar has exactly the sound of a steady rain beating upon a roof.  It is so healing to the spirit; and it bears up the thread of one’s imaginings as the accompaniment bears up a song.