. Romantic Germany. al of the HolyGhost within the walls. Well, he cried at last,since your town looks already so much like a night-cap, you may as well make this the tassel. Deep in the valley below, the Tauber wound underits double bridge, which showed up in the distancelike a fragment of Roman aqueduct. I thought ofthe company of crusaders who once rode down thezigzag hillside path and across that bridge, bound toredeem the Holy Sepulcher; and of the innumerablebands of pilgrims the olden times had seen windingup that hill toward the city that more than all othersresembled, and still resemb
. Romantic Germany. al of the HolyGhost within the walls. Well, he cried at last,since your town looks already so much like a night-cap, you may as well make this the tassel. Deep in the valley below, the Tauber wound underits double bridge, which showed up in the distancelike a fragment of Roman aqueduct. I thought ofthe company of crusaders who once rode down thezigzag hillside path and across that bridge, bound toredeem the Holy Sepulcher; and of the innumerablebands of pilgrims the olden times had seen windingup that hill toward the city that more than all othersresembled, and still resembles, Jerusalem, to adorethe drop of the Saviours blood treasured in The Tauber sparkled on, past the tiny castle of thecelebrated Burgomaster Toppler, with its moat andtwo-arched bridge; past the delightful old mill,creaking and groaning among its poplars; towardthe Romanesque church and the wonderful lime-treeof Detwang, that gem of a hamlet which Vernon Leeselfishly wished to conceal from the world. 370. PORTAL OF THE OLD RATHAlS THE CITY OF DREAMS An old woman sat down on a bench near by, and,as a matter of course, gave me a hearty had lived in Rothenburg for seventy years, andit had hardly changed, except that more strangerscame all the while to enjoy it. Frau Weller invited me into her home, a minute,vine-smothered affair in the Herren-Gasse, quiteoverpowered by its aristocratic neighbors. I hadbegun to hope that she would bring out my old manof the train and present him as her husband. But,alas! it developed that she was a widow and alone inthe world. Ja, da lebt rnan halt bis man stirbt (Yes, onejust lives here till one dies), she said simply. The tiny rooms had timbered ceilings and furni-ture of the Biedermeyer period. Frau Wellersgreatest pride and joy was a porcelain clock withweights, and she brought out all the pathetic brighthandkerchiefs of her youth to show me. Up doubtfulstairs, almost too narrow for any but very frail hu-manity, I cau
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booksubjectgermany, bookyear1910
