re are their High-Mightinesses of the Hansa, who ruled when the
Hansa was a League indeed, those worthy senators of Bremen who brought
the blushing maiden to this cool grot for the edification of their
grandchildren? Gone too--with two centuries over their heads, and we
can only pour wine on their tombs.

Good luck to you, departed High-Mightinesses, and good luck to your
living representatives, who have so courteously extended such
hospitality to a Southerner! 'And goodnight to you, my Lady Rose,'
added the old servant more kindly. 'Come along, sir, we can get out
this way without going back, mind you don't stumble over the casks.'
'My good man, you don't imagine I'm going away, do you?' I replied. 'I
have only just begun my night. Bring me some of that special '22, two
or three bottles, into that big room behind there. I saw that wine
growing green and saw it pressed, and now I'm going to prove to my
palate that we can still grow something worth drinking.' The old boy
expostulated, entreated, threatened, swore nothing should induce him to
stay;--who wanted him to stay? Swore he daredn't leave me here;--did he
think I was going to carry off Frau Rosa in my arms? Finally he agreed
to let me remain if he might padlock me into the big room, and come at
six o'clock tomorrow to wake me and receive his reward. Then, with a
heavy heart, he put three bottles of the '22 on the table, wiped the
glass, poured me out a little, and wished me good-night, double-locking
and padlocking the door behind me, more apparently out of tender
anxiety for me than out of fear for his cellar. The clock struck
half-past eleven as I heard him say a prayer and hurry away. When he
shut the outer door of the vaults at the top of the stairs, there was
an echo like the thunder of cannons through the halls and passages.

So now I was alone keeping Retreat with my soul down in the bosom of
the earth. Slumber above me and slumber around me, for the spirits of
the dead are asleep by my side. I wonder if they dream of their brief
childhood on the distant mountains, and the nightly lullabys sung to
them by old Father Rhine; or the kisses of their tender mother the sun
when they first opened their eyes in the bright spring air, of their
first leafy garments which reflected themselves in their old Father's
eyes.

Ah! my soul, I too have rosy days of youth to look back upon, spent
upon the soft vine-clad hills and by the blue rivers of my native
Swabia; ah t