hill, the sound of firing was heard in every direction, and from many
vineyards arose the smoke of fires where groups of merry children were
collecting and burning the rubbish. We became lost among the winding
paths of the pine forest, so that by the time we came out upon the
eminence overlooking the valley of the Main, it was quite dark. From
every side, far and near, rockets of all sizes and colors darted high
up into the sky. Sometimes a flight of the most brilliant crimson and
gold lights rushed up together, then again by some farm-house in the
meadow, the vintagers would burn a Roman candle, throwing its powerful
white light on the gardens and fields around. We stopped under a garden
wall, by which a laughing company were assembled in the smoke and red
blaze, and watched several comets go hissing and glancing far above us.
The cracking of ammunition still continued, and when we came again upon
the bridge, the city opposite was lighted as if illuminated. The full
moon had just risen, softening and mellowing the beautiful scene, while
beyond, over the tower of Frankfort, rose and fell the meteors that
heralded the vintage.

Since I have been in Frankfort, an event has occurred, which shows very
distinctly the principles at work in Germany, and gives us some
foreboding of the future. Ferdinand Freiligrath, the first living poet
with the exception of Uhland, has within a few weeks published a volume
of poems entitled, "My Confession of Faith, or Poems for the Times." It
contains some thrilling appeals to the free spirit of the German people,
setting forth the injustice under which they labor, in simple but
powerful language, and with the most forcible illustrations, adapted to
the comprehension of everyone. Viewed as a work of genius alone, it is
strikingly powerful and original: but when we consider the effect it is
producing among the people--the strength it will add to the rising tide
of opposition to every form of tyranny, it has a still higher interest.