or two, when the respective garments right themselves again, their owners wheel about, and I return to my book or my pen.

The quantity of travelling that is going on before our eyes every day is quite incredible. The Stadt Koblenz being at the turn of the Ems road, and just at the bottom of the hill, causes us to see every carriage that passesfor they always stop opposite our door to take off the "sabot," with which the wheel was dragged down the steep descent. We have counted, in about an hour, as many as ten or twelve carriages of every sort, with their dusty imperials, tired-looking travellers, and blue and orange postilions. The English of course predominate, but there are numbers of Dutch, French, and Germans. This surprised me, as I had no idea that foreigners (I crave their pardon for the impertinence of so calling them here on their own ground) moved about so much as I find they do.

There is something in seeing travelling, and being one's self en voyage, that is calculated to produce serious reflection. It recals so strongly our own actual state in this world,

that of strangers- pilgrims- travellers ;—it reminds us that we are only passing throughjourneying on to a distant home; and that every day brings us nearer to our destination. Our habits, too, in travelling, our anxiety to find out everything about the place to which we are going, and to ascertain the exact and best road, ought to furnish us a valuable lesson. We have a divine and precious guide-book in our more important journey, to warn us of the perils to be met with by the way, and show how we may escape them, and reach that far land in safety. O that we studied and consulted it more diligently than we do!

There was a departure from our neighbour, the Pariser Hof, the other morning, which struck me very much in this point of view; perhaps owing to some previous train of thinking, or else to the frame of mind I happened to be in at the moment.

The carriage came to the door,-every article belonging to the family was removed into it, and soon it was plain they had ceased to have any sort of connexion with, or interest in, the house that had been their abode probably for a long time.

As I stood looking at them from the window, my mind was forcibly carried forward to the moment of departure from this earthly sojourn, when, my term ended, I should have no more to do with this world or its concerns, than the people in the carriage with the Pariser Hof upon which they were turning their backs, and from which they were just driving away as fast as possible.

A few days since, poor old Christiani, the donkey guide, asked W, in the gravest and most serious manner, whether he lived in the same town in England with his "great relative." It was curious enough, that W's jest happened to touch upon a very tender chord, as "Sir Robert" (this is the name by which he is known now among all our Schwalbach acquaintances) has lately been indulging in golden dreams about rich relations, and actually made a pilgrimage to Frankfort, six months since, to find out some by whom he hoped to make his fortune.

"Sir Robert's" speculation, like many others of the same nature, proved a failure:-he discovered his relations-but all he gained by

them was a long journey and the mighty sum of four kreutzers. He was returning to Schwalbach, when, fatigued in body, and sick at heart, he threw himself on a bank to rest. He had a long stick in his hand, and while chewing the cud of disappointment, kept moving about this stick in a pool of water that was at his feet, without in the least thinking what he was about. Something hard struck it, and to his great astonishment and delight, he brought up two or three kreutzers. As may be supposed, he went on with his search, and kreutzer after kreutzer emerged from the muddy pool, until at last they amounted to between six and seven guldens (about ten shillings.) Poor Christiani! his good luck was almost as great as that of the old dervish in the Arabian Night's Entertainments. I am afraid his visit to England to look after his great namesake, would hardly prove as productive.

CHAPTER XIV.

Visit to the school-house-Schlangenbad-Departure from Schwalbach.

August 8th. This morning we went to visit the school, and under most favourable auspices; for Herr Klein, the interesting Lutheran pastor, was our guide. W called on him, and made his acquaintance some days since, when he appointed eight o'clock this morning as the hour of meeting. I looked forward with much more pleasure to seeing himself than anything else, as I really never remember to have been more impressed with feelings of respect and admiration by any individual.

We reached the school-house a little before eight, and found a general jubilee going on among the little people,-it being then break