In a bay of the river a little before we approached Oberwesel, there is a vast rock, which the passengers on the river never fail to address, for the purpose of hearing their own voices very closely imitated by its echoes. Almost all the way from St. Goar to Oberwesel, we were environed by enormous dark rocks covered with shattered fragments, impending over and embrowning the face of the river with their awful shadows. The gloom of the scene was enlivened only by a few fishermen’s huts here and there interspersed, protected from the intense heat of the sun retained by and reflected from the rocks rising above them, by the foliage of scanty groups of trees. This melancholy defile prepared us for Oberwesel, a venerable city, filled with the solemnity of ancient churches and deserted convents. In the time of the Emperor Henry the Seventh, this city was an imperial one; afterwards, and till the French seized it, it was in the possession of the Elector of Treves. The church of the Minorites had once a fine copy of Rubens’ Descent from the Cross, by a disciple of his, which upon inquiry I found had been removed. Nothing can exceed the beauty of the situation of this town; the scenery to the south of it is luxuriant and romantic beyond imagination. Close to it, rising from an avenue of stately walnut-trees, is a prodigious rock, supporting the celebrated chateau de Schoenberg, which gave birth to the illustrious and ancient family of the name of Belmont, afterwards changed for the German name of Schoenberg or Beaumont: this place and the neighbourhood abound with slate quarries. Immediately opposite, on the eastern bank, lofty mountains clothed with hanging vineyards, and attended by the usual association of mural ruins perched upon their pinnacles, and of monastic buildings projecting from their sides, or rising from their base, presented their majestic forms to the Rhine. From Oberwesel we crossed over to Kaub, a fortified town a little way further to the south. Previous to this we had kept, during the whole of the passage, on the left bank. In crossing the river we passed close to a large massy fortified tower, or fort, standing in the middle of the Rhine upon a rock, called the Pfalz or Palatinate. In distant times the Countesses of the Palatinate, when they were far advanced in that state which “Ladies wish to be who love their lords,” used to remove to this insulated spot of gloom for the purpose of lying-in; afterwards it was used as a state prison, and a place to watch the vessels ascending or descending the Rhine, to prevent their eluding the tolls; it is now disused, but not likely very soon to run to decay for want of inhabitants. Enthusiastically as I admire the scenery of this part of the Rhine, I think I never saw a place where man or woman would less prefer to be _confined_ in, than the Pfalz.