This is the birthplace of Goethe, the Shakespeare of Germany. His splendid monument stands in the centre of one of the public squares of the city. The pedestal on which the bronze statue rests is relieved by raised figures, those on one side being taken from “Faust,” and the other from “Hermann and Dorothea.” The first is one of the most masterly productions that ever emanated from the human brain, and the second one of the sweetest love stories ever embalmed in verse. Carlyle says of Goethe: “There was none like him; he knew everything.” If Germany ever produced Goethe’s equal, it was his bosom friend Schiller, whose life-like statue adorns another of the public squares of Frankfort. Seeing these two statues, I involuntarily look around for that of Herder. I always think of Goethe, Schiller and Herder as the inseparable trio. The well-known millionaire, M. A. Rothschild who, I believe was at one time the richest man on earth, was born in Frankfort. The family still lives, and do a large business here. Through the influence of a friend, I gain an entrance to Rothschild’s house and private museum, which one may well imagine contains an elegant collection of curiosities from all parts of the world. One gold vase alone, set with diamonds and other precious stones, is said to have cost 800,000 marks or $200,000. The next place the traveler hangs his hat on the wall is here in Worms. Ah, what a history has this quaint old German town! How many thrilling incidents have taken place on its narrow streets during the last fifteen hundred years! But Worms is of more than a general interest to the world, since it was the scene of Luther’s fiercest struggle with Rome. In March, 1521, Luther was summoned to appear before the Diet, or Supreme Court, of half the World, assembled at Worms, under the presidency of Charles V. With Napoleonic courage, Luther answered the call in person. As the bold reformer on his way to trial passed through Eisenach, where he had sung carols on the street for bread, his friends met him with the warning; “They will burn you as they did John Huss;” to which he replied; “Though they should build a fire from Worms to Wittenberg and reaching to the sky, I would pass through it in the name of the Lord.” As he was approaching the city, Spalatin sent a messenger with another warning. This time the monk responded: “Go tell your master that if there were as many devils in Worms as there are tiles upon the housetops, I would enter.” He did enter, and the next day became a turning point in the world’s history. It was then that this “Christian Hercules, this heroic cleanser of the Augean stable of apostacy,” went forth in the arena of debate to shiver lances with kings and popes and princes. Being severely in earnest, grandly right, and divinely appointed to his office, he hurled his arguments like withering blighting thunder-bolts. And, if the enemy now and then put in hard licks, Luther, being possessed of a cool head, quick wit,