The moral of this legend is sufficiently obvious. But it goes far beyond the miraculous interposition of Providence, too commonly and too impiously proclaimed in Protestant as well as in Catholic states. The legend illustrates a great principle of human nature—the power of religion over the fear of death—even when that death is aggravated by the horrors of merciless cruelty and ignominious torture! Nor is it any drawback on true religion that a _false faith_ will sometimes exert a similar influence in the hour of trial. The Hindoo widow mounts the funeral pyre of her husband, under the influence of a religious persuasion that she is performing a sacred duty to the dead—and braves the devouring element in the hope of joyful immortality. It is also true that a few minds of a certain mould will spurn the fear of death, under the influence of a greater fear—that of dishonour. The Roman stoics, without the aid of religious faith, might prefer falling on their own swords, to the disgrace of dragging the captive’s chains behind the triumphal chariot of the conqueror:—but neither Cato nor Cassius would have stood unmoved before the dragon of Drachenfels. The serenity of the Christian in the hour of peril, the agony of sickness, and the approach of death, contrasts greatly with the sullen abandonment of the stoic, and the reckless desperation of the infidel. * * * * * Here my meditations were broken by seeing the long black banner of the steamer wreathing over the placid river, and impinging against the sides of the hills. Descending from my airy seat, I soon joined my companions on the crowded deck, and proceeded on our voyage. It is fashionable for modern tourists to draw characteristic sketches of the passengers in steam-boats on the Rhine. I think it is one of the worst theatres that could be selected for that purpose. The scenery itself, and the legendary tales which fix the localities in the memory, are quite sufficient for ordinary attention, without attempting to dive into the peculiarities of individual character, which are not so easily fathomed as the sentimental tourist would have us to suppose. We have scarcely got disentangled of the Drachenfels, when we find ourselves between a ruined tower on the summit of a volcanic peak on the right, and a spruce hotel in the midst of the Rhine, on a little island to our left. The former is the far-famed Rolandseck, and the latter is the ancient convent of Nonnenwerth converted into a modern caravansera. ROLAND AND HILDEGUND, OR THE FATAL AFFIANCE. (_Legend the Second._)