Autumn had long been turning the green leaves to gold. A tinge of yellow first appeared upon the trees; then warmer and brighter grew the foliage; the vintage came and ended; the corn-harvest was long stored away, and, like the Roman Empire, more gorgeous in decay than in its prime. The forest stood crowned with a thousand hues,—crowned like a sacrifice of old [262]prepared for death,—prepared to offer up at Nature’s shrine the loveliness she gave.

The most gorgeous of the seasons, Autumn is still the saddest. We look on the fallen leaves and think of friends departed; the useless heaps that lie around the stems remind us of our lost time, and as the winter comes age seems stealing on our brows. Who can say, I shall see spring again? Yet the lesson thus taught us is for our good. Time moves on and brings us to eternity; therefore, is it not well for man that Nature warns him of the lapse of Time?

Nor is winter to us an unpleasant or unprofitable period. In winter we meet again our friends, we gather round our hearths, or meet by theirs those that we love; old friendships are renewed, old ties are strengthened, and by the cheerful fireside we repeat tales of old times,—tales of days that made our country famous; in gaining which fame our fathers bled, and we their descendants receive fresh strength to emulate their deeds.

In the old days, upon our river’s bank, the Germans deemed Christmas more sacred than all other times; for then, they said, “The gods walked upon the earth.”

So should it be. At Christmas, we should with the old year bury our quarrels and our cares; and as our religion teaches, look forward with a sure hope and certain faith to the new year, which assuredly will dawn.

In the dark days of Paganism we can well imagine [263]how men’s minds were affected with the gloom of impending winter; but we are no longer fearful of the coming time, now that we know eternity is open and that we shall live hereafter.
THE SUCCESSION OF THE SEASONS.

The day succeeded night, and eve the morn,

In those far ages back ere Man was born;

Then only Elves and Fairies played

Beneath the leafy covert’s shade,

And all was Summer, and the bright sun shone

On this fair world, and ruled it for his own;

For Winter there was none, nor cold

Nor cloud in those bright days of old.

The birds and flowers for ever bloomed and sang,

The springs perpetual from the dark rock sprang;

Time strode with even step along,

His path begirt with flowers and song.

The dainty Elves and Fairies wandered free,

Passing their hours in mirth and harmless glee,

Until at length of sunshine they

Grow weary, and for some new thing pray.

Then Autumn first into the world was sent,

And all the Elves and Fairies were content;

But soon they learnt that, Change begun,

Its onward course would ever run.

Succeeding Autumn, cold, dark, Winter’s reign

Commenced; the Elves wished Summer back again,

Fearing no more its light to see,

Dreading lest thus Eternity

Should Time have swallowed up, and, falling fast,

Their fairy tears were shed for pleasure past,

As ours too often vainly fall,

Seeking our lost ones to recall;
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Till Spring the wintry earth revived again,

Refreshing all things with its gentle rain.

Then danced the Elves, then sang the Fairies gay,

And so the winter clouds all passed away;

Henceforth the seasons in succession rolled,

And new years hastened to supplant the old.

Thus let us learn when coldest winter chills,

And darkest night with fear our bosom fills,

To trust in His unfailing love, and turn

Our hearts to where, with thankfulness, we learn

That, as the Spring and Summer cold succeed,

And morning to the night,

So will His mercy wandering footsteps lead

From darkness into light.

Between Cobern and Winningen our river makes its last great bend at a point where a splendid mass of rock towers up on the left bank. It is the last of the Eifel family of Giants we encounter; for, beyond Winningen, the scenery on that side becomes softer in character, smaller hills become undulations, and then, as we get close to Coblence, these slope into the garden with which the plain is covered.

The first cluster of houses we encounter after leaving Cobern is Dieblich. It lies quite back from the stream, and looks anything but a place that would be especially selected by witches to carry on their spells and incantations; yet so infected (say the Chronicles) was this town with witches, that in a short time twenty-five individuals were burnt there, who all confessed that they were in the habit of meeting on a neighbouring [265]mountain and worshipping a goat, who was an incarnation of the Evil One.

They also confessed to having emptied c............