Identifier: harpersnewmonthl00alde (find matches)
Title: Harper's new monthly magazine
Year: 1850 (1850s)
Authors: Alden, Henry Mills, 1836-1919 Harper & Brothers John Davis Batchelder Collection (Library of Congress)
Subjects: Culture Civilization American literature
Publisher: New York : Harper & Brothers
Contributing Library: Lincoln Financial Foundation Collection
Digitizing Sponsor: The Institute of Museum and Library Services through an Indiana State Library LSTA Grant

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dpine on the summit. The picture is grotesque in its character, which is an unusual feature in scenery. One who comes up the glen is so unprepared for it that it flashes upon him as if a curtain had been suddenly lifted. Here I rested in the shade until the midday heat was over. A Jew and a young Bavarian lieutenant kept me company, and the latter entertained me with descriptions of various executions which he had seen. We left at the same time, they for Bayreuth and I for the little town of Pottenstein, at the head of the gorge, five miles further. By this time, I confess, the journey had become a toil. I dragged myself along rather than walked, and when a stout boy of twelve begged for a kreutzer, I bribed him for twelve to accompany and assist me. His dialect was of the broadest, and I could sooner have THE FRANCONIAN SWITZERLAND. 149 understood a lecture on the Absolute Reason than his simple peasant gossip. His tongue was a very scissors for clipping off the ends of words. The pronoun ich
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he changed into a, and very often used the third person of the verb instead of the first. I managed, however, to learn that the landlord in Tüchersfeld was fearfully rich : all the hay in the glen (perhaps tentons) belonged to him. I had already suspected as much, for the landlord took pains to tell us about a wedding trip he had jus tmade to the old monastery of Banz, a days journey distant. It cost me as much as forty florins, said he, but then we traveled second class. To my thinking its not half so pleasant as third class, but then I want ed to be noble for once. For an hour and a half we walked through a deep, winding glen, where there was barely a little room here and there for a hayor barley field. On the right hand were tall forests of fir and pine on the left, abrupt stony hills, capped with huge irregular bastions of Jura limestone. Gradually the rocks appear on the right and push away the woods; the stream is squeezed between a double row of Cyclopean walls, which assume the wildest and mos

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