The Argosy — page 75: what you’re looking at

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

62 In the Black Forest. mountains, with their soft, wavy, graceful undulations, though too far off to be very conspicuous or interesting. Small streams ran their course, and villages dotted the plain, their red roofs rising in con- trast with the sombre pines. ‘The wind swept great white clouds across the sky, bringing out the blue beyond in deep relief, whilst, they cast huge shadows upon the plain that chased each other and dissolved as the clouds died out in space. I gazed long at the scene: that marvellous picture of nature of which one never tires, no matter how often it may be repeated. One tree, one stream, one field, one hill, may resemble another, but a thousand times multiplied and a thousand times seen, the last look is as fresh and beautiful to the mind, as invigorating to the spirit, as the first. The only sad spot was the ruin itself, which spoke so loudly of an age and generation when other eyes were gazing upon those scenes ; as, in turn, other eyes again will gaze, when these = have long passed into history. Coming down from the ruin, the woman who kept a stall of barred wood work espied a victim, cried up her wares and strove hard to drive a bargain. But with the best intentions in the world one can scarcely perambulate a whole day through a forest with a cuckoo clock in one hand and a pair of elegant chimney ornaments in the other. So, for the sake of helping a fellow creature, ever so slightly, on the difficult road of life, the traveller falls back upon the small objects that fit into the pocket. Andif the reduction in price is not quite in proportion to the difference in size and labour, he quietly shuts his eyes to the fact. We have so often to close our ore to a good deal that is going on in this bad world. A last look at the Old Castle, and branching off to the left I presently came to the rough steps cut out of the gigantic rocks that look towards Baden ; steps that lead to the summit of the heights, whence again one sees all the glorious view, but from a somewhat different point. Next I found myself in the thick of the wood, revel- ling in the loneliness, and dense, almost appalling solitude. Not a bird was visible, not a chirp was heard ; and more or less throughout the Black Forest this absence of bird life is somewhat conspicuous. Perhaps they are better heard and seen in the spring; occasionally, when remarking to the inhabitants upon the strange absence of the feathered tribe, they seemed aggrieved, and thought they had as many birds as other lands. If it be so, certainly in that merry month of August of which I write they had taken to themselves wings, and gone off on a pilgrimage of love or duty. To plunge into the thick of the wood, to wander at will, to have the small excitement of losing and recovering your way, this is really to enjoy to the utmost the resources of the Black Forest, or of any forest. The spots unmentioned in guide books, the tracks unbeaten by the ordinary tourist—it is these that charm. Never can I forget that long, lonely. glorious walk after leaving the Old Castle. Hour Gomichbooksreom —