turned into seven rocks for their cruelty and hard-heartedness toward
the knights whom their beauty had made captive. In front, at a little
distance, was the castle of Pfalz, in the middle of the river, and from
the heights above Caub frowned the crumbling citadel of Gutenfels.
Imagine all this, and tell me if it is not a picture whose memory should
last a lifetime.

We came at last to Bingen, the southern gate of the highlands. Here, on
an island in the middle of the stream, is the old mouse-tower where
Bishop Hatto of Mayence was eaten up by the rats for his wicked deeds.
Passing Rüdesheim and Geisenheim--celebrated for their wines--at sunset,
we watched the varied shore in the growing darkness, till like a line of
stars across the water we saw before us the bridge of Mayence.

[Footnote A: From "Views Afoot." Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons.]




COLOGNE[A]

BY VICTOR HUGO.


The sun had set when we reached Cologne. I gave my luggage to a porter,
with orders to carry it to a hotel at Duez, a little town on the
opposite side of the Rhine; and directed my steps toward the cathedral.
Rather than ask my way, I wandered up and down the narrow streets, which
night had all but obscured. At last I entered a gateway leading to a
court, and came out on an open square--dark and deserted. A magnificent