ys he
did to _Paradise Lost_, as to a task. And the consequence is, that,
avoiding it wherever I can, I have not yet entitled myself to pass
muster in the first class of bunglers. But it would have been cruel to
thwart the hospitable bailiff in his humours, so to it we fell. I don't
think that he and his friends gave me quite fair play. With one accord
they ranged themselves on the side of their countryman, and, complimenting
my adroitness all the while, they assisted him in every difficulty with
their counsels. However, the result would have been, I make no doubt,
the same, had they remained silent. I was soundly beaten, and my worthy
host rose up as much pleased as if he had conquered a province. I
learned from the chancellor next day, that to have lost the game would
have seriously affected his peace of mind. I am therefore heartily glad
that fortune declared in his favour.

My tale of Starkenbach is told. We returned to the chancellor's to
sleep, breakfasted with him and his interesting young wife next
morning, and at seven o'clock took the road to Troutenau, which he
recommended as a good halting-place. His last words at parting were,
"Nous sons beaucoup triste," and when I added "Et nous aussi," I spoke
but as I felt.

CHAPTER VI.

THE ELBE, A MOUNTAIN-STREAM. WE FISH IT. DINE ON OUR FISH IN A VILLAGE
INN. THE YOUNG TORPINDA. ARNAU. THE STATUES IN THE MARKET-PLACE. THE
FRANCISCAN CONVENT. TROUTENAU. THE WANDERING MINSTRELS. MARCH
CONTINUED. FISH THE RIVER. A VILLAGE INN, AND ACCOUNT OF THE TORPINDAS.
OUR FIRST MEETING WITH THESE FORMIDABLE PEOPLE IN A WOOD. ANOTHER
PEDESTRIAN TOURIST. ADERSPACH. EXCELLENT QUARTERS. MOST REMARKABLE
ROCKS. THE MINSTRELS AGAIN.

Our journey towards Troutenau was for a while prolific in few events,
with an account of which it is worth while to entertain my reader. In
point of scenery, each new step that we took introduced us to new and
constantly varying beauties; but on that head I have said as much,
perhaps more, than was necessary. For who, after all, can so describe
nature's handiwork, as to create in the mind of him who has never
looked upon the original, anything like a correct idea of what it is?
The painter may indeed accomplish this, though even he will accomplish
it imperfectly; but the mere narrator,--in good sooth, his words,
however appropriate, must ever fall comparatively dull upon the ear,
which is not the organ through which to convey to the mind any noti