delighted traveller, as he views them from the deck of the gliding
steamer, there dwelt, some years ago, the Baron Von Rosenburg and his
lady Mathilde. The baron was a very proud man, and continually
boasting of his descent from a "long and noble line of martial
ancestors," gentlemen who were wont, in the "good old times," to wear
steel on head, back, and breast, and each of whom supported a score of
retainers in his feudal castle. Where the money comes from to support
a princely housekeeping, when the head of the family has no property
or employment, is sometimes a mystery nowadays; but no such doubt
attached to the resources of the baron's ancestors. These gentlemen,
when short of provisions, would sally forth at the head of their
followers, and capture the first drove of cattle they encountered,
without stopping to inquire into the ownership. Sometimes they made
excursions on the river, and levied contributions on the little barks
of traders who often carried valuable cargoes from one Rhine town to
another.

But the privileges of the robber knights and bandit nobles were sadly
shorn by the progressive spirit of modern civilization. With a total
disregard of the immunities of chivalry, modern legislators declared
that it was as great a crime for a baron to seize on a herd of cattle
as for a peasant to steal a sheep. Hence the great families along the
Rhine went into decay. The castles were dismantled, many noble names
died out, very few remained, the representatives of the ancestral
glory of olden times.

Among them was the baron. He had been a soldier and a courtier in his
youth, had spent some time abroad, and was about forty when he married
a lady of the same age, and settled down in the old family castle of
Rosenberg. Here he lorded it over the surrounding valley, the simple