-coloured sea; and after Juliusruh, the high road and
the pines abruptly ending, we got into the open country of whose
sandiness the Glowe landlord had spoken with uplifted hands. As we
laboured along at a walking pace the greyness of the sky grew denser,
and it began to rain. This was the first rain I had had during my
journey, and it was delicious. The ripe corn on our left looked a deeper
gold against the dull sky; the ditches were like streaks of light, they
were so crammed with yellow flowers; the air grew fragrant with wetness;
and, best of all, the dust left off. The Professor put up his umbrella,
which turned out to be so enormous when open that we could both sit
comfortably under it and keep dry; and he was in such good spirits at
being fairly on Charlotte's tracks that I am inclined to think it was
the most agreeable drive I had had in Ruegen. The traveller, however, who
does not sit under one umbrella with a pleased Professor on the way to
Arkona must not suppose that he too will like this bit best, for he will
not.

The road turns off sharply inland at Vitt, a tiny fisher-hamlet we came
upon unexpectedly, hidden in a deep clough. It is a charming little
place--a few fishermen's huts, a minute inn, and a great many walnut
trees. Passing along the upper end of the clough we looked straight down
its one shingly street to the sea washing among rocks. Big black
fisher-boats were hauled up almost into the street itself. A forlorn
artist's umbrella stood all alone half-way down, sheltering an
unfinished painting from the gentle rain, while the artist--I supposed
him to be the artist because of his unique neck arrangements--watched it
wistfully from the inn door. As Vitt even in rain was perfectly charming
I can confidently recommend it to the traveller; for on a sunny day it
must be quite one of the prettiest spots in Ruegen. If I had been alone I
would certainly have stayed there at least one night, though the inn
looked as if its beds were feather and its butter bad; but I now had a
mission, and he who has a mission spends most of his time passing the
best things by.

'Is not that a little paradise?' I exclaimed.

The Professor quoted Dr. Johnson and Charles Lamb, remarking that he
understood their taste better than that of those persons who indulge in
ill-defined and windy raptures about scenery and the weather.

'But we cannot all have the tastes of great scholars,' I said rather
coldly, for I did not like