I was not long in my present situation till a number of peasants, with broad-brimmed hats, and many-buttoned coats, passed on their way to work; they all saluted me respectfully; but although they saw the broken carriage, and might well guess at the nature of my accident, yet not one ever thought of proffering his services, or even indulging curiosity, by way of inquiry.  “How thoroughly German,” thought I; “these people are the Turks of Europe, stupified with tobacco and ‘starkes bier.’  They have no thought for any thing but themselves, and their own immediate occupations.”  Perceiving at length one whose better dress and more intelligent look bespoke a rank above the common, I made the effort with such “platt deutsch,” as I could muster, to ask if there were any house near, where I could remain till the postillion’s return? and learned greatly to my gratification, that by taking the path which led through a grove of pine trees near me, I should find a chateau; but who was the proprietor he knew not; indeed the people were only newly come, and he believed were foreigners.  English he thought.  Oh, how my heart jumped as I said, “can they be the Callonbys; are they many in family; are there ladies—­young ladies, among them?”—­he knew not.  Having hastily arranged with my new friend to watch the carriage till my return, I took the path he showed me, and smarting with pain at every step, hurried along as best I could towards the chateau.  I had not walked many minutes, when a break in the wood gave me a view of the old mansion, and at once dispelled the illusion that was momentarily gaining upon me.  “They could not be the Callonbys.”  The house was old; and though it had once been a fine and handsome structure, exhibited now abundant traces of decay; the rich cornices which supported the roof had fallen in many places, and lay in fragments upon the terrace beneath; the portico of the door was half tumbling; and the architraves of the windows were broken and dismantled; the tall and once richly ornamented chimnies, were bereft of all their tracery, and stood bolt upright in all their nakedness above the high pitched roof.  A straggling “jet d’eau” was vigorously fighting its way amid a mass of creeping shrubs and luxuriant lichens that had grown around and above a richly carved fountain, and fell in a shower of sparkling dew upon the rank grass and tall weeds around.  The gentle murmur was the only sound that broke the stillness of the morning.

A few deities in lead and stone, mutilated and broken, stood like the Genii loci, guarding the desolation about them, where an old, superannuated peacock, with dropping, ragged tail was the only living thing to be seen.  All bespoke the wreck of what once was great and noble, and all plainly told me that such could not be the abode of the Callonbys.