There is no house outside the wall on the whole hill, or any vestige of a former house; all the houses are inside the wall, but there isn’t room for another one.  It is really a finished town, and has been finished a very long time.  There is no space between the wall and the first circle of buildings; no, the village wall is itself the rear wall of the first circle of buildings, and the roofs jut a little over the wall and thus furnish it with eaves.  The general level of the massed roofs is gracefully broken and relieved by the dominating towers of the ruined castle and the tall spires of a couple of churches; so, from a distance Dilsberg has rather more the look of a king’s crown than a cap.  That lofty green eminence and its quaint coronet form quite a striking picture, you may be sure, in the flush of the evening sun.

We crossed over in a boat and began the ascent by a narrow, steep path which plunged us at once into the leafy deeps of the bushes.  But they were not cool deeps by any means, for the sun’s rays were weltering hot and there was little or no breeze to temper them.  As we panted up the sharp ascent, we met brown, bareheaded and barefooted boys and girls, occasionally, and sometimes men; they came upon us without warning, they gave us good day, flashed out of sight in the bushes, and were gone as suddenly and mysteriously as they had come.  They were bound for the other side of the river to work.  This path had been traveled by many generations of these people.  They have always gone down to the valley to earn their bread, but they have always climbed their hill again to eat it, and to sleep in their snug town.

It is said that the Dilsbergers do not emigrate much; they find that living up there above the world, in their peaceful nest, is pleasanter than living down in the troublous world.  The seven hundred inhabitants are all blood-kin to each other, too; they have always been blood-kin to each other for fifteen hundred years; they are simply one large family, and they like the home folks better than they like strangers, hence they persistently stay at home.  It has been said that for ages Dilsberg has been merely a thriving and diligent idiot-factory.  I saw no idiots there, but the captain said, “Because of late years the government has taken to lugging them off to asylums and otherwheres; and government wants to cripple the factory, too, and is trying to get these Dilsbergers to marry out of the family, but they don’t like to.”

The captain probably imagined all this, as modern science denies that the intermarrying of relatives deteriorates the stock.