h Bengal lights,
reddening the classic peristyles and fountains with which modern taste
has decked the town, its airy Moorish pavilion over the springs, and
its beautiful Greek chapel with fire-gilt domes, each surmounted by a
double cross connected with the dome by gilt chains--a chapel built by
the duke Adolph of Nassau in memory of his wife, Elizabeth Michaelovna,
a Russian princess,--are things that almost every American traveler
remembers, not to mention the Neroberger wine grown in the neighborhood.

Schlangenbad, a less well-known bathing-place, is a favorite goal of
Wiesbaden excursionists, for a path through dense beech woods leads from
the stirring town to the quieter "woman's republic," where, before
sovereigns in incognito came to patronize it, there had long been a
monopoly of its charms by the wives and daughters of rich men, bankers,
councilors, noblemen, etc., and also by a set of the higher clergy. The
waters were famous for their sedative qualities, building up the nervous
system, and, it is said, also beautifying the skin. Some credulous
persons traced the name of the "Serpents' Bath" to the fact that snakes
lurked in the springs and gave the waters their healing powers; but as
the neighborhood abounds in a small harmless kind of reptile, this is
the more obvious reason for the name. I spent a pleasant ten days at
Schlangenbad twelve or thirteen years ago, when many of the German
sovereigns preferred it for its quiet to the larger and noisier resorts,
and remember with special pleasure meeting with fields of Scotch heather
encircled by beech and chestnut woods, with ferny, rocky nooks such
as--when it is in Germany that you find them--suggest fairies, and with
a curious village church, just restored by a rich English Catholic,
since dead, who lived in Brussels and devoted his fortune to religious
purposes all over the world. This church was chiefly interesting as a
specimen of what country churches were in the Middle Ages, having been
restored in the style common to those days. It was entirely of stone,
within as well as without, and I remember no painting on the walls. The
"tabernacle," instead of being placed _on_ the altar, as is the custom
in most churches now, and has been for two or three hundred years, was,
according to the old German custom, a separate shrine, with a little
tapering carved spire, placed in the corner of the choir, with a red
lamp burning before it. Here, as in most of the Rhine