is one of the strongest forts in the world, occupying the summit
of a rocky height, whose base is washed by the Rhine, and whose outworks
are pushed to all the neighbouring eminences. The position of Coblentz,
at the junction of the Rhine and the Moselle, the latter of which
penetrates into the ancient electorate of Treves, now belonging to
Prussia, may render it an important station to that power, but it does
not strike me as military. The enemy that can seize any one of its
numerous outworks, or forts, must essentially command the place. As at
Genoa, it seems to me that too much has been attempted to succeed.

Last night we had a convent that was a parallelogram of six hundred
feet by three hundred, all to ourselves; while this night we were
crowded into a small and uncomfortable inn that was overflowing with
people. The house was noisy and echoish, and not inappropriately called
the "Three Swiss."

We crossed the river by the bridge of boats, and ascended the opposite
hill to enjoy the view. There was another island up the stream, with a
ruined convent, but unhappily it was not an inn. The Rhine is a frontier
for much of its course, washing the shores of France, Darmstadt,
Bavaria, Baden, Nassau, Prussia, &c., &c., for a long distance, and
permanent bridges are avoided in most places. The floating bridges,
being constructed of platforms laid on boats, that are united by clamps,
can be taken apart, and withdrawn, to either shore, in an hour or two.

We quitted Coblentz at ten, and now began in truth to enter the fine
scenery of the Rhine. The mountains, or rather hills, for they scarcely
deserve the former name, close upon the river, a short distance below
the town, and from that moment, with very immaterial exceptions, the
road follows the windings of the stream, keeping generally within a few
yards of the water. The departures from this rule are not more than
sufficient to break the monotony of a perfectly uniform scene. I have
nothing new to tell you of the ruined castles--the villages and towns
that crowd the narrow strand--the even and well-kept roads--the
vine-covered hills--and the beautiful sinuosities of this great artery
of Europe. To write any thing new or interesting of this well-beaten
path, one must linger days among the ruins, explore the valleys, and
dive into the local traditions. We enjoyed the passage, as a matter of
course, but it was little varied, until we drew near the frontier of
Prussia, wh