72 MORE POT-POURRI 



The train sped along, and the weather was beautiful. 

 We were not parboiled in the carriages, as they do not 

 warm them before the 1st of November. My friend 

 lived out of Frankfort, on the slopes of the Taunus 

 Mountains, under the towers of the mediaeval Castle of 

 Cronberg. Land is not, I fancy, to be bought in Ger- 

 many except close to the towns ; all the forests belong 

 to the State, and are not sold. I was surprised to find 

 in this delightful home of my Cronberg friends, in the 

 very kingdom of stoves, as we consider Germany, that 

 one of the rooms was warmed by an Irish stove, made 

 by Messrs. Musgrave, of Bond street, exactly like the 

 one I find so invaluable for keeping my own little house 

 at an even temperature. I cannot imagine why any 

 English house not warmed with hot pipes is ever 

 without one of these stoves. They burn only coke, they 

 require very little stoking, they keep in a very long 

 time, and they never unpleasantly dry the air or cause 

 the least smell. I afterwards found that the shops in 

 Frankfort were full of English goods. This is some 

 consolation for us when things we buy are so constantly 

 marked ' made in Germany' . 



My bedroom at Cronberg looked north, and faced a 

 long line of sunlit Taunus Mountains, clothed with oak 

 woods in all their autumn glory. They were intersected 

 with piue woods, which in previous months must have 

 looked dull and dark against the summer green, but in 

 late October they were shining bright against the red 

 gold of the dying woods. They reminded me of one of 

 ' Bethia Hardacre's ' truest touches of colour : 



Silver and pearl-white sky, 



Hills of dim amethyst, 

 Bracken to gold changed by 



Autumn, the Alchemist. 



