The Argosy — page 395: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

374 In the Black Forest. height, called the Hirschsprung, on the summit of which is the carved figure of a stag, as if about to leap across the chasm. The valley now opened out, and the scenery lost its wild and eloomy aspect. Wooded slopes succeeded the frowning rocks, and the road winding about the mountains disclosed at every step fresh beauties. Wayside houses, lone and desolate; an inn where the landlord on the steps looked as if he thought we were acting unfairly by him in not putting up under the shadow of the sign, Zum Adler. Yet further, a white chapel in the valley, with a dark spire that stood out in bold relief against the hilly background ; a few houses, surrounding the church, constituting the village of Holl- steig. Finally, a few saw-mills by the river-side, leading to the large white inn, Sternen. Here I was to find quarters for the night, and the carriage that had brought me so far on my road would return to Freiburg. Nor should I be sorry to see the last of it. ‘Though supplied by the Hotel Zahringer, it was the worst vehicle, and, above all, the worst driver that fell to my lot throughout the Black Forest. The situation of the inn was strangely beautiful, though nothing could well exceed its loneliness. It stood in the midst of a lovely paradise. Few spots in. the whole Forest are more favoured. Wooded and fertile hills rose on all sides. People come here and remain for weeks together ; and to all who want a period of rest and quiet retreat from the world it may safely be recommended. Dull and gloomy, somewhat sad and depressing, it undoubtedly is, but there are times when even these influences are acceptable. And there are people so cheerfully disposed that they would be happy if cast adrift on a desert island. | Near the inn was the entrance to the Ravennathal, a wild valley and ravine leading to a small picturesque lake. Close by, the river, running its noisy course, turned the old wheels of the saw-mills down below, setting in motion the ponderous machinery. Opposite the inn was a small church capable of holding just six people ; a curious little erection that might have been a votive chapel in the days when pil- grimages were in vogue in the Black Forest. And what lovelier spot than this to call forth all the sublime and religious emotions supposed to accompany a pilgrimage ?P The inn was almost deserted. The season was over, and all had departed, except a small group consisting of a mother, governess, maid, and two troublesome children. ‘The large rooms looked empty and ghostlike; the outside gloom penetrated into the house. As twilight deepened into night, the great mountains with their dark pines, where the night winds whispered and murmured, seemed endless in extent, emblematical of despair, and solitude, and death ; blackness and silence everywhere, stretching, for all one could see, to the ends © of the earth. No sound in earth or air but the murmur of the river as it ran through the valley. . Wise yey, COMMICOOOKS. CONN