We arrived at Manheim at three o’clock in the morning and drove to the “Deutscher Hof.” The entrance door was locked, and our driver had to ring vigorously several times before a dishevelled, drowsy waiter let us in. On the following day we travelled up the Rhine on our way to Holland on the “Elizabeth,” a small merchant steamer, the only one starting that day for Coblentz. As there was no private cabin on the boat, we had to remain on deck all day. The “Elizabeth” was a shabby little vessel, very unclean, the uncovered deck was piled with boxes and barrels. Towards evening we approached Eltville, a small place where our boat moored for the night. We slept at a small hotel and had to be up at dawn, as the “Elizabeth” continued her way early in the morning. We got up long before light, and at four o’clock were already on board. The banks of the Rhine became more and more picturesque. The Rheinland seemed to be saturated with the life of the past. We saw ruined old castles perched high on the cliffs; one feels that they must have been the stage where many dramas of human life have been enacted. Here is the legend “Lorelei Felsen,” so romantic and so mysterious. At every stoppage our boat took a cargo, which made us miss the Coblentz boat and we had to proceed further on by rail. Our road ran side by side with the river. The train was rapidly gaining headway, and at the second station we had overtaken the “Elizabeth” which had left Coblentz half-an-hour before us. We made a short halt at Bonn in order to pay a visit to Bonnegasse, the street in which Beethoven was born. The house No. 515 is commemorated by a tablet with his name and date of birth. At the last German station I saw, to my great fright, that we were descending straight to the Rhine, with no vestige of a bridge over it. When we arrived at the very edge of the river our train divided in two parts. Three cars, ours in the number, were placed on a large ferry and worked across the water by a wheel and a rope, to be hooked after to a Dutch train. It was a curious experience floating on a wide river without oars or any visible means of transport.

As soon as we entered Holland, the landscape changed at once. We rolled across flat expanses: all was level land. Vast fields of red and white tulips spread before us. Black and white cows, with huge bells on their necks, dozed in the high grass. The verdant prairies are variegated with bad-smelling canals filled with water, on a level with the ground. Quaint little houses with green and white shutters, that have sat themselves close to the water edge, border the road. In the distance windmills were turning slowly in the evening breeze, pointing their wings in all directions and filling the air with a ceaseless whir.