Our journey towards Troutenau was for a while prolific in few events, with an account of which it is worth while to entertain my reader. In point of scenery, each new step that we took introduced us to new and constantly varying beauties; but on that head I have said as much, perhaps more, than was necessary. For who, after all, can so describe nature's handiwork, as to create in the mind of him who has never looked upon the original, anything like a correct idea of what it is? The painter may indeed accomplish this, though even he will accomplish it imperfectly; but the mere narrator,--in good sooth, his words, however appropriate, must ever fall comparatively dull upon the ear, which is not the organ through which to convey to the mind any notion, however incomplete, of external scenery. When, then, I have stated, that our path carried us over hill and dale,--that we threaded deep forests, and from time to time traversed an open plain, and that all this while the snowy ridges of the Riesengebirgen stood up like a wall upon our left hand, I have left myself nothing in the shape of description to add, out of which the reader could hope to derive an accession, either to his information or his amusement. Of one occurrence that befel in the course of this day's pilgrimage, it is, however, necessary that I should take notice. At the distance of perhaps ten English miles from Starkenbach, we came upon the Elbe; how unlike to the lordly river with which we formed our first acquaintance at Hamburg, and which two months' residence at Schandau had latterly made so familiar to us! A narrow mountain-stream,--so narrow, indeed, and so shallow, that a mere rustic bridge sufficed to span it,--was all that reminded us of that prodigious body of water, which serves as a channel of communication between Dresden and the North Sea, and fertilizes in its course the plains of Bohemia, Saxony, Prussia, Mecklenburg, Hanover, and even Denmark. The fact is, as I need scarcely pause to state, that we were now but a short day's march from its source, which lies,--a mere fountain or well-head,--in the side of the mountain that overhangs Hoen Elbe. As our friend the chancellor had assured us, however, that at the well-head in question there was really nothing to see, we determined to leave it unexplored, and to push on, instead, as far as Aderspach, where we were given to understand that nature had accomplished many freaks well deserving to be noted.