e, has heard the story of the crusader, who,
returning from the wars, found his betrothed a nun in this asylum. It
would seem that lies were as rife before the art of printing had been
pressed into their service, or newspapers known, as they are to-day, for
she had been taught to think him dead or inconstant; it was much the
same to her. The castle which overlooked the island was built for his
abode, and here the legend is prudently silent. Although one is not
bound to believe all he hears; we are all charmed with the images which
such tales create, especially when, as in this case, they are aided by
visible and tangible objects in the shape of good stone walls. As we
trotted along under the brow of the mountain that upholds the ruins of
the castle of Charlemagne's nephew, my eye rested musingly on the silent
pile of the convent. "That convent," I called out to the postilion, "is
still inhabited?" "_Ja, mein Herr, es ist ein gasthaus_." An inn!--the
thing was soon explained. The convent, a community of Benedictines, had
been suppressed some fifteen or twenty years, and the buildings had been
converted into one of your sentimental taverns. With the closest
scrutiny I could not detect a soul near the spot, for junketing in a
ruin is my special aversion. A hamlet stood on the bank at no great
distance above the island; the postilion grinned when I asked if it
would be possible to get horses to this place in the morning, for it
saved him a trot all the way to Oberwinter. He promised to send word in
the course of the night to the relay above, and the whole affair was
arranged in live minutes. The carriage was housed and left under the
care of Francois on the main land, a night sack thrown into a skiff, and
in ten minutes we were afloat on the Rhine. Our little bark whirled
about in the eddies, and soon touched the upper point of the island.

We found convent, _gasthaus_, and sentiment, without any pre-occupants.
There was not a soul on the island, but the innkeeper, his wife, a
child, a cook, a crone who did all sorts of work, and three Prussian
soldiers, who were billeted on the house, part of a detachment that we
had seen scattered along the road, all the way from Bonn. I do not know
which were the most gladdened by the meeting, ourselves or the good
people of the place; we at finding anything like retirement in Europe,
and they at seeing anything like guests. The man regretted that we had
come so late, for a large party ha