B---- and I are now comfortably settled in Frankfort, having, with Mr.
Willis's kind assistance, obtained lodgings with the amiable family,
with whom he has resided for more than two years. My cousin remains in
Heidelberg to attend the winter course of lectures at the University.

Having forwarded our baggage by the omnibus, we came hither on foot,
through the heart of the Odenwald, a region full of interest, yet little
visited by travellers. Dr. S---- and his family walked with us three or
four miles of the way, and on a hill above Ziegelhausen, with a splendid
view behind us, through the mountain-door, out of which the Neckar
enters on the Rhine-plain, we parted. This was a first, and I must
confess, a somewhat embarrassing experience in German leave-taking.
After bidding adieu three or four times, we started to go up the
mountain and they down it, but at every second step we had to turn
around to acknowledge the waving of hands and handkerchiefs, which
continued so long that I was glad when we were out of sight of each
other. We descended on the other side into a wild and romantic valley,
whose meadows were of the brightest green; a little brook which wound
through them, put now and then its "silvery shoulder" to the wheel of a
rustic mill. By the road-side two or three wild-looking gipsies sat
around a fire, with some goats feeding near them.

Passing through this valley and the little village of Schönau, we
commenced ascending one of the loftiest ranges of the Odenwald. The side
of the mountain was covered with a thick pine forest. There was no wind
to wake its solemn anthem; all was calm and majestic, and even awful.
The trees rose all around like the pillars of a vast Cathedral, whose
long arched aisles vanished far below in the deepening gloom.