Riding rapidly without hindrance or molestation for twenty-two miles, I passed Dieuze between the banks of the Seille and another river, and then past Sarrebourg, a quaint old town which was quietly ceded to France by the Lorrainers in 1666. It is situated on the right bank of the Sarre, which flows from the wooded Vosges to the Lower Rhine, and is only fifteen miles westward of Elsace-Zaberne. I halted here at an hostelry named _L'Image de Notre Dame_, the sign-board of which had been riddled by the bullets of Saxe-Weimar's Swedish Protestants. This house of entertainment stood immediately opposite the palace of Henri de Vestingen, the Archbishop of Treves. Though now so near my destination, a stupid crayfisher, of whom I unfortunately inquired the way, misdirected me; and at nightfall, instead of being at the end of my journey, I found myself in a wild and sequestered district among the mountains, where the patois of the peasants--of whom I met but two--was so quaint and barbarous that I could scarcely understand one word they uttered. To make all this more unpleasant a storm was coming on; the sky grew black and lowering; the air was full of electricity, and warm rain-drops fell heavily and at long intervals. After a time I found myself close to a small, compact, but closely-walled town in a deep valley of the Vosges. I approached the gate joyfully, and heard a sentinel challenge in pure French; but still precaution on my part was necessary. 'Stand,' cried he, 'or I shall fire. France or Lorraine?' To answer for either was dangerous; so I inquired,-- 'What town is this?' 'Phalsbourg, on the frontier of Alsace.' 'How far is Zaberne distant?' 'Six miles to the north-east.' 'Then I have ridden fifty-four miles to-day.' 'From where, my friend?' 'Nanci.' 'Ha! from Nanci--indeed! well, pass on--do not advance one step, or I shall be compelled to fire.' The match of his arquebuse glowed in the dark, as he blew it to enforce the threat. 'Is this garrison French or Imperialist?' I asked. 'Return in the morning, and we shall each see what the other is like. Good night.' 'Good night;' and I rode off, as nearly as I could judge, in the direction of Zaberne; and now the warm rain plashed in my face, and I heard the rising wind begin to roar in the hollows, and saw the ghastly green lightning playing about the black peaks of the Vosges. Phalsbourg, belonging to princes of that title, who were vassals of Duke Charles, stands on an eminence overhanging a deep and narrow defile of these mountains. It is strongly fortified, and was founded for defence by Count John, Palatine of the Rhine in 1570, but was annexed to France by the treaty of Vincennes, when ruin was deepening on the fated house of Lorraine.