inquired my friend, Herr X., of me, one evening, as we sat on the bank
of the Inner Alster, in the city of Hamburg. I had already visited most
of the "lions" in and about Hamburg, and had found in Herr X. a most
intelligent and obliging cicerone. So I said, "Yes," without hesitation,
though knowing little more of the Rauhe Haus than that it was a reform
school of some kind.

"I will call for you in the morning," said my friend, as we parted for
the night.

The morning was clear and bright, and I had hardly despatched my
breakfast when Herr X. appeared with his carriage. Entering it without
delay, we were driven swiftly over the pavements, till we came to the
old city-wall, now forming a fine drive, when my friend, turning to the
coachman, said,--

"Go more slowly."

"The scenery in this vicinity we Hamburgers think very beautiful," he
continued, turning to me.

To my eye, accustomed to our New England hills, it was much too flat to
merit the appellation of beautiful, though Art had done what it could to
improve upon Nature; so I assented to his encomiums upon the landscape,
but, desirous of changing the subject, added,--

"This Rauhe Haus, where we are going, I know but little of; will you
give me its history?"

"Most willingly," he replied. "You must know that our immense commerce,