the air with his naked feet and the dog struggling to free himself from
the entangling harness.

Up among the hills, at the village of Strenburg, night arrives at a very
opportune moment to-day, for Strenburg proves a nice, sociable sort of
village, where the doctor can speak good English and plays the role of
interpreter for me at the gasthaus. The school-ma'am, a vivacious Italian
lady, in addition to French and German, can also speak a few words of
English, though she persistently refers to herself as the " school
-master." She boards at the same gasthaus, and all the evening long I
am favored by the liveliest prattle and most charming gesticulations
imaginable, while the room is half filled with her class of young lady
aspirants to linguistic accomplishments, listening to our amusing, if
not instructive, efforts to carry on a conversation. ' It is altogether
a most enjoyable evening, and on parting I am requested to write when I
get around the world and tell the Strenburgers all that I have seen and
experienced. On top of the gasthaus is a rude observatory, and before
starting I take a view of the country. The outlook is magnificent; the
Austrian Alps are towering skyward to the southeast, rearing snow-crowned
heads out from among a billowy sea of pine-covered hills, and to the
northward is the lovely valley of the Danube, the river glistening softly
through the morning haze.

On yonder height, overlooking the Danube on the one hand and the town
of Molk on the other, is the largest and most imposing edifice I have
yet seen in Austria; it is a convent of the Benedictine monks; and though
Molk is a solid, substantially built town, of perhaps a thousand
inhabitants, I should think there is more material in the immense convent
building than in the whole town besides, and one naturally wonders
whatever use the monks can possibly have for a building of such enormous