scape. These fertile valleys, protected from the chilling influence of the northern blasts by the lofty chain of the Riesengebirge, were blooming with the luxuriant vegetation of more southern climes, forming a pleasing contrast to the sterile region I had just left.

From Trautenau I proceeded to visit Adersbach, the famous labyrinth of rocks, a natural phenomenon, I believe unique of its kind, at least for magnitude and extent, being upwards of four leagues in length, and two in breadth. That in Westphalia, called Exterstein, so celebrated by travellers, and which I had seen some years previous, is a mere baby's toy, compared with this. In short the only freak of Nature that I ever saw at all comparable to it, is that in Upper Styria, called the Johnsbacherthal. These rocks are entirely composed of sand-stone, and form a part of the same sand-stone ridge which runs through the province of Glatz on one side, and through Saxon Switzerland, towards Dresden, on the other.

Among the various theories that have been advanced to explain this phenomenon, it has been asserted that water had gradually washed away the softer parts of the rock; but most travellers with whom I have conversed upon the subject could not reconcile this with the sharp angular edges of the rocks, and felt more inclined to refer it to some instantaneous convulsion of nature, that had shivered to pieces a vast mountain.

On a near approach the traveller might really fancy he was beholding a city of gigantic architecture in ruins; for we can literally walk through its interior, as we would in the squares and streets of a town, and it

hardly requires a stretch of the imagination to say that we see dismantled towers, triumphal arches, dilapidated fortifications, &c. Tradition has baptized many of these masses of rock with the most fanciful appellations: here we have the statues of burgomasters and soldiers, there friars and nuns; and in another place the emperor's throne, and, singular enough, the road that leads to it is across the devil's bridge. One of the loftiest of these rocks, termed the watch-tower, is, I should think, between four and five hundred feet high, but its circumference is not greater than that of the object from which it borrows its appellation. Another of nearly equal altitude, which goes under the name of the Zuckerhut (sugar loaf), is in form an inverted cone, and being isolated and at some distance from all the rest, has a most singular appearance.

Besides the numerous streets, as they are called, that intersect this city of the gnomes, there are several narrow alleys, which, however, let not the traveller attempt to thread, or he may find himself involved in an interminable labyrinth; as I was informed that dogs had been driven into them for the purpose of exploring an outlet, but they seldom returned.

The entrance to this wonder of nature is secured by a door, which a very small piece of money will unlock. The ciceroni, Johann, also game-keeper to the proprietor, is a most amusing person, and whom I cannot help recommending for his unremitting attention, and the gratitude he evinced for the trifling donation he so richly deserved. On arriving at a lonely situation, he unexpectedly disappeared from me for a few seconds, when I was not a little surprised at hearing in these solitudes a report of what seemed to me a small park of artillery, but which turned out to be merely a common musquet, whose echo was repeated seventeen times in succession. But it is when a concussion of the elements takes place, that these reverberations are heard to the greatest advantage. Then the shocks are so awful that it would appear to a stranger as if the inmost recesses of nature were being torn asunder.

On my way out of the labyrinth I was joined by a band of students, playing a chorus from Der Freischütz, on wind instruments. The sublime effect of the music in this city of rocks must be heard to be conceived; it seemed to be that of the spheres, for the whole air was filled with melody.

I shall now bid adieu to Adersbach; but I would

recommend every traveller that comes within a hundred miles, to visit it.

There are few things more gratifying to a weary pedestrian, who has for many hours feasted his senses upon beautiful landscapes, than to find himself in a clean neat inn, enjoying the prospect of a well-covered table; more especially if he finds the red trout of the mountain streams again forming one of its principal features, whose delicate flavour is only equalled by their cheapness. This, reader, was now my enviable lot at Adersbach. I took my place at the table d'hôte between one of the musical students and a rich cloth manufacturer from the commercial town of Reichenberg. The latter was busily employed in satisfying himself as to the merits of a most unreasonable number of these renowned delicacies. After having devoured sufficient to stock a fish-pond, he found leisure to address me with the usual interrogatories of a vulgar German, who possesses more curiosity than politeness, of which the following formed what a counsel would call the leading questions; for to give my cross-examination at full length would occupy at least a couple of pages. What countryman are you, sir? Where are you travelling to? What are you doing in our mountains? What is What is your profession?"

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Having answered these queries to his satisfaction, my inquisitive acquaintance again addressed me, evidently with much astonishment:-"Can it be really possible that you have travelled all the way from England for the sake of enjoying our delicious mountain trout? It is true, I leave my comptoir every year for

the same purpose, but, Potz Blitz! I did not imagine that the renown of the Adersbach trout had reached so far."

However, when I assured him that the magnet which attracted me was the fame of Adersbach's labyrinth of rocks, and not that of the trout, he smiled most incredulously; and when I convinced him of this, by speaking enthusiastically of the pleasure it afforded me, he instantly drew his chair nearer to his next neighbour, and I overheard him make use of the general epithet, "Lauter Englische spleen,"-having evidently come to the conclusion that my intellects were slightly astray.

This epithet is applied indiscriminately in Germany to every Englishman who may happen to differ, though but in the veriest trifle, from the pre-conceived ideas, manners, and even dress of the natives; and I have heard it stoutly maintained, even by men of the world, that the whole nation were infected with it, in a greater or less degree. They say it is indigenous to our climate, and, therefore, most mercifully compassionate us; but, as my countrymen, though said to be universally the victims of this malady, may yet be ignorant of its nature, I beg leave to inform them, that "Englische spleen" means neither more nor less than every gradation of eccentricity, up to a slight degree of insanity. Nevertheless, we have not yet reached the climax of absurdity in the popular fallacies of Germany; for it is also implicitly believed by the majority, that the sun never shines in England! I have repeatedly combated this nonsensical idea without success, unless I had a German to appeal to, who had visited England, and