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VI. 



A WEEK AT A GEEMAN CASTLE. 1 



T HAD the good fortune this autumn to be 

 out of the beaten track of tourists, and to 

 find myself resting in an old German castle on 

 the borders of Bavaria and Wurtemberg. Its 

 massive walls and deeply recessed windows, its 

 courtyard ruddy with the warm hues of the 

 Virginian creeper, its spacious oak- staircases 

 and the sombre panelling, the armour and the 

 weapons of a bygone age, carried me back into 

 distant years. But of all parts of the house, 

 the most delightful was the library. Though 

 its windows did not open, like those of some of 

 the rooms, above the topmost branches of the 

 ashes and the firs which clung to the bank 

 below the castle walls, and almost hid the 



1 1882. 



