Every place was familiar to me in memory, and they seemed like friends I
had long communed with in spirit and now met face to face. The English
tourists with whom the deck was covered seemed interested too, but in a
different manner. With Murray's Handbook open in their hands, they sat
and read about the very towns and towers they were passing, scarcely
lifting their eyes to the real scenes, except now and then to observe
that it was "very nice."

As we passed Boppart, I sought out the inn of the "Star," mentioned in
"Hyperion;" there was a maiden sitting on the steps who might have been
Paul Flemming's fair boat-woman. The clouds which had here gathered
among the hills now came over the river, and the rain cleared the deck
of its crowd of admiring tourists. As we were approaching Lorelei Berg,
I did not go below, and so enjoyed some of the finest scenery on the
Rhine alone. The mountains approach each other at this point, and the
Lorelei rock rises up for four hundred and forty feet from the water.
This is the haunt of the water nymph Lorelei, whose song charmed the ear
of the boatman while his bark was dashed to pieces on the rocks below.
It is also celebrated for its remarkable echo. As we passed between the
rocks, a guard, who has a little house on the roadside, blew a flourish
on his bugle, which was instantly answered by a blast from the rocky
battlements of Lorelei.

The sun came out of the clouds as we passed Oberwesel, with its tall
round tower, and the light shining through the ruined arches of
Schonberg castle made broad bars of light and shade in the still misty
air. A rainbow sprang up out of the Rhine and lay brightly on the
mountain-side, coloring vineyard and crag in the most singular beauty,
while its second reflection faintly arched like a glory above the high
summits in the bed of the river were the seven countesses of Schonberg