dirty cobwebbed passage, our clothes were slightly soiled and cobwebby.
With the remark, "If we were all with our fashionable circles at home, I
suppose we should not go on this way," or some such allusion, that reminds
the company of how differently they are wont to go on at home,-one can,
under such circumstances generally provoke a fit of merriment. To the
traveler, every day is a day of adventures--frequently of rather funny
adventures!

At 2:30 p.m., I left Bonn by rail for Mehlen, (5 miles further up), where
I crossed the Rhine on a ferry and came to Königswinter on its right bank.
Southeast of this village lie "The Seven Mountains" (Siebengebirge). From
the Drachenfels (1,066 feet high) the view is the most picturesque, and
this one, about a mile from the village, I ascended. Donkeys and donkey
boys are found here in aboundance, but I would have nothing to do with the
donkey, and immediately set out to make the ascent on foot. I did not come
far before a girl crowned me, with a wreath made of leaves, and asked me
to buy it. The scenery is so romantic, here, that many will yield to the
importunities of these poor girls and give them a _groschen_ (2½ cents)
and make the rest of their journeys with wreaths of leaves upon their
hats! The ruins of the castle of Drachenfels (or dragon's rock) erected in
the beginning of the 12th century, is near the summit of the peak. The
cavern of the dragon may be seen from the Rhine half way up the hill.
"This dragon was slain by Sigfried, the hero from the Low Countries, who,
having bathed himself in its blood, became invulnerable."

The summit of Drachenfels commands one of the noblest prospects of the
Rhine. Here sat Byron when he wrote the following beautiful lines:

"The castled crag of Drachenfels
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine,