Though I did not notice that the womenfolk of other places along the Danube were, speaking generally, less beautiful than those of Linz, it should perhaps be mentioned that most writers about the town draw attention to the beauty of the Linz women, or at least to their being long celebrated for beauty. One writer goes so far as to say that transcendentally beautiful women are so carefully guarded from the public eye that a month may be spent in the town by the most susceptible tourist without his “seeing a face that could endanger his peace. Poets nevertheless,” continues the same writer after that ungallant assertion, “have caught much inspiration on the spot and found a prolific theme in the fair maids of Linz, and tourists under the old regime have lent their willing aid in propagating their fame. The annexed ballad relates the fate of one, who, in her day, was the “pride of Linz.” “Her cheek was bright, her eye was blue, Her smile inspired such nameless rapture, That not a swain who met her view But she could fascinate and capture. By men of war and men of fame,-- By ‘stars and medals’ she was courted: But still the fair and cruel dame With all their wounds and sorrows sported; For her the soldiers fought and swore, The statesman lied, the lawyer cheated; And bards their rhymes in anguish tore, To find their schemes were so defeated!-- But years flew by--the homage ceased; And now with age and sorrow laden, In cloister weeds she tells her beads-- Alas! for Linz’s fairest maiden!” The moral seems to be that in affairs of the heart there is safety in one rather than in numbers. Before leaving Linz it may be as well to recall a very clever acrostic which I am told Mr. H. R. Lewis wrote in a visitors’ book when visiting the town about a quarter of a century ago. It ran thus:-- “Mit ein-und-fünfzig fängt es an Nach tausend Kommst das nächste; Und, kennst Du wohl Dein alphabet So findest Du das letzte.” This may be roughly Englished as follows:-- “First one-and-fifty [LI], then the next A thousand is just past [N]; And, if you know your alphabet, At once you find the last [Z].” It is rarely indeed that the entries made in visitors’ books--shrines in which inky offerings to the belly-gods are mostly inscribed--are quite as happy as this. FOOTNOTES: [6] “The Lay of the Nibelungs.” Metrically translated from the old German text by Alice Horton, and edited by Edward Bell, M.A., 1898. [7] Planché journeyed down the Danube in 1827; three years later the first of his “monstrous anachronisms” was plying on it! CHAPTER V LINZ TO THE WACHAU “... the Strudel and the Wirbel form Dangers more fierce than devastating storm, Where the great waters with tumultuous roar, Through the defile their pent-up currents pour.” _From the German_