play there are another point of attraction. Still, I think one more willingly seeks the older parts--the Ashtree Gate, with its machicolated tower and turrets, the only remnants of the fortifications; the old cemetery, where Goethe's mother is buried; and the old bridge over the Main, with the statue of Charlemagne bearing the globe of empire in his hand, which an innocent countryman from the neighboring village of Sachsenhausen mistook for the man who invented the _Aeppelwei_, a favorite drink of Frankfort. This bridge has another curiosity--a gilt cock on an iron rod, commemorating the usual legend of the "first living thing" sent across to cheat the devil, who had extorted such a promise from the architect. But although the ancient remains are attractive, we must not forget the Bethmann Museum, with its treasure of Dannecker's _Ariadne_, and the Staedel Art Institute, both the legacies of public-spirited merchants to their native town; the Bourse, where a business hardly second to any in London is done; and the memory of so many great minds of modern times--Boerne, Brentano, Bettina von Arnim, Feurbach, Savigny, Schlossen, etc. The Roman remains at Oberuerzel in the neighborhood ought to have a chapter to themselves, forming as they do a miniature Pompeii, but the Rhine and its best scenery calls us away from its great tributary, and we already begin to feel the witchery which a popular poet has expressed in these lines, supposed to be a warning from a father to a wandering son: To the Rhine, to the Rhine! go not to the Rhine! My son, I counsel thee well; For there life is too sweet and too fine, and every breath is a spell. The nixie calls to thee out of the flood; and if thou her smiles shouldst see, And the Lorelei, with her pale cold lips, then 'tis all over with thee: For bewitched and delighted, yet seized with fear, Thy home is forgotten and mourners weep here. [Illustration: JOHN WOLFGANG GOETHE.] [Illustration: GOETHE'S BIRTHPLACE.] This is the Rheingau, the most beautiful valley of rocks and bed of rapids which occurs during the whole course of the river--the region most crowded with legends and castles, and most frequented by strangers by railroad and steamboat. The right bank is at first the only one that calls for attention, dotted as it is with townlets, each nestled in orchards, gardens and vineyards, with a church and steeple, and terraces of odd, over-hanging houses; little stone arbors trellised with grapevines; great crosses and statues of patron saints in the warm, soft-toned red sandstone of the country; fishermen's taverns, with most of the business done outside under the trees or vine-covered piazza; little, busy wharfs and works, aping joyfully the bustle of large seaports, and succeeding in miniature; and perhaps a burgomaster's garden, where that portly and pleasant functionary does not disdain to keep a tavern and serve his customers himself, as at Walluf.