“The castled crag of Drachenfels Frowns o’er the wide and winding Rhine Whose breast of waters broadly smiles Between the banks which bear the vine; And hills all rich with blossom’d trees, And fields which produce corn and wine, And scatter’d cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strew’d a scene which I should see With double joy wert thou with me.” We land at Konigswinter (King’s Winter), and ascend the bluff, nine hundred and eighty feet above the Rhine, to the Castle of Drachenfels, or dragon’s rock. This Castle commands the most extensive view of any on the Rhine. In descending, we visit the curious cave which, according to a mythical story, was once the dwelling-place of a huge serpent who jealously guarded the pass and allowed no one to ascend the cliff. A brave knight slew the dragon, and after bathing himself in its blood, became invulnerable and mighty in strength. He then built the Castle on the uplifted rock, and made himself lord of the surrounding country. [Illustration: A VIEW ON THE RHINE.] Just as the sun sets, we approach the beautiful island of Nonenwerth where, half hidden beneath the rich foliage, we see an old convent. Just above this floating island, rises a huge rock whose summit was once crowned with a splendid castle, of which only one crumbling arch now remains. The legendary history connecting the castle and convent is as beautiful as it is touching. Just after the time of Charlemagne, a brave and gallant knight, by the name of Roland, paid court to the beautiful and accomplished Princess Hildegude. The affection was reciprocated, and the two soon became affianced lovers. At this time, Roland was summoned by his king to the Crusade. Time sped on, and anxiously did the devoted Hildegude look for his return. But, alas! she received tidings of his death. Straightway for her all beauty faded from every earthly object. She therefore gave her heart to God, and her body to the convent on the adjacent island. The sad news, however, proved untrue. Roland had been wounded but not fatally. All during his absence the fires of love burned brightly upon the altars of devotion. With joyous anticipation, he returned to receive the hand of her whose radiant smile was the light of his life. But, alas! poor Roland! He found that his lady-love was in that living tomb from which death alone could set her free. Broken-hearted, he built the castle, one moldering arch of which still stands, and there lived in solitude and wretchedness, catching an occasional glimpse of his imprisoned love. After her death, he spoke no more until he passed beyond the stars to meet her who anxiously awaited his coming.