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which, carried onwards by the impetuosity of the waters, had torn away the bridge, and had deposited themselves like a foaming barrier, which it was impossible to ford. The cunning Italian, foiled in his attempt at imposition, turned sulkily round and drove off; but a boat was soon luckily procured, in which the party were conveyed to the little hamlet of Riva. On their course they perceived that two other bridges had been equally demolished, and the road elsewhere perfectly obliterated. At Riva no conveyances could be found but a country waggon and a little cart; the latter was appropriated to the luggage, and the former, furnished with some sacks filled with grass, was occupied by the traveller. The course lay through a valley about half a mile wide, mountains rising on either side to the height of three or four thousand feet, and here the scene of destruction was frightful. Immense crags, loosened from the mountains, had toppled down, crushing cottages and bearing every thing headlong in their course, had covered the road and large tracks of land with their débris; and the Splügen river, having burst its banks a little below Chiavenna, although its waters had now subsided into its bed, had swept over the land, leaving a deposit of mud and stones, and prostrate trees, where before all was life and promise; and, as if in mockery of the desolation, or to afford the unhappy owners an idea of where their property had been, a few solitary mulberry-trees had withstood the shock, and reared themselves amidst the ruins of the soil.

At Chiavenna, which stands on the rising ground at the foot of the Alps, and at the very mouth of the Splügen pass, the storm had burst with fearful violence, aggravated in its terrors by night and its uncertainties, and driving the terrified inhabitants to their churches for prayer and mercy. Happily its fury abated before positive destruction befell them, for the waters had already touched the crown of the arch of the bridge, and any additional rise would have burst them, and have spread the flood through the town; for the channel, being in a deep rocky gully, through which, even in its most quiet moods, the stream foams and tumbles with headlong impetuosity, was already full to its brink. In one hour the water subsided six feet, and by morning they were but little above their usual level: the town was saved, but its property in land was destroyed. The travellers here engaged a carriage to take them over the Splügen, and by the Via Mala to Chur. The toilsome ascent occupied eight hours, the road occasionally passing over a natural slope in the mountains, and sometimes either along a shelf cut in the rocks themselves, or working in a zig-zag direction, where a direct progress is rendered impossible by the nature of the ground. It is a triumph of engineering skill, and as safe as such a hazardous undertaking can be; but there are spots where a few spare inches, and a rickety wooden fence, alone intervene between the carriage and the yawning precipice beneath. In no case is the valley at its foot more than a quarter of a mile wide, and is narrower by degrees till it is finally arrested by a wall of rock. A few scattered cottages here and there in that hollow, and along the road, tell of a scanty population, afflicted with goitre, and very-very poor.

It is curious to notice the gradual change and succession of vegetation in the ascent; vines, oaks, and chestnut trees, are soon left behind, and corn and maize give place to potatoes, and a scanty produce of barley on little patches of land here and there to be found; higher up, hay is cut six weeks later than in the plains, and at last vegetation of all kinds is stunted, and becomes little more than an effort. On the very summit of the pass, a wretched squad of men in the Austrian uniform reside, performing the double duty of police and custom-house officers, always cold, and rarely passing a day without rain or snow, which latter covers the hill sides throughout the year.

The utmost ingenuity has been displayed through the whole pass in forming the road, (an operation of only

|

three years,) along almost inaccessible tracts, in boring through rocks, and in avoiding the course of torrents, which discharge volumes of water, and fall in a sheer and uninterrupted line many hundreds of feet, adding grandeur to the scene, and depriving it of the feeling of weariness and satiety. At particular exposures, where snow-drifts would fill up and bar the way, covered passages of great length are erected, but still a snow storm must be fraught with the greatest danger to travellers, where a false step, or a slip of the horse, would hurl them to destruction.

The descent to the village of Splügen, on the Swiss side, is carried in an unbroken zig-zag direction down the side of the mountain, purple with a species of Azalea, and occupies less than an hour. In this valley the Rhine, as a mere brook of a few feet wide, struggles onwards, increasing however somewhat in width, and considerably in power, as it foams and works its way in falls and torrents through the precipitous and inaccessible gullies it has worn for itself at the base of the mountains through which the Via Mala runs. For miles this road, which would be more appropriately called Periculosa, is bounded on one side by the mountain rock, out of which it is cut, and on the other by a fearful precipice, against which a miserable wooden paling is the only protection; and, simply with the precaution of a skidded wheel, the drivers trot their horses along, and turn them round corners with the indifference of habit.

Accidents rarely occur, but a frightful one awaited the travellers. At a point where the road had slipped, leaving for some distance a bare passage for a carriage, and without any barrier or protection against danger and the depth beneath, one of the party, a Pole, insisting on the reckless folly of remaining in the carriage exposed to such fatal risk, got out with his wife, begging his companions to follow his example, and compelling the postilion to dismount and to lead his horses. A few seconds had barely elapsed before the near report of a gun alarmed the horses; they swerved, and the wheels of the carriage trembled on the brink;--the ground crumbled beneath them, and the body of the carriage, inclining to the angle thus formed, overbalanced itself, hanging for one instant by a vigorous effort of the horses;---it was but an instant, for, falling on its side, it slid and rolled down the few feet of bank on the top of the rock, dragging the struggling horses with it-they plunged, and made frantic efforts to maintain their ground; but the weight of the carriage, and the impetus given to it by this fall were beyond their power. It was terrible to see their agony and convulsive struggles as they were being dragged downwards; and when the carriage disappeared over the verge of the precipice, and their fate was inevitable, one animal, as, with the supernatural strength of despair, clung for a second to the brink with its fore feet, and then, falling backwards, uttered a shriek, which was beyond description appalling. A crash, and a dull heavy sound borne upwards, announced the catastrophe to the horror-stricken party.

When reason returned, and a sense of their providential escape had been as far expressed as the agonizing excitement of the moment would admit of, (a full and due acknowledgement was not omitted at an early time and an appropriate place,) the travellers bent over the chasm, a depth of several hundred feet, through which the Rhine boils furiously along, and where no human foot can gain access, and there, in a confused and mangled heap, among rocks and water-riven fragments of trees, lay the carcases of the horses, and such a portion of the carriage as had not been swept into the stream, never to be recovered; a loss, as regarded the luggage, of great moment, particularly to the unfortunate Pole, who lost his all; but the look of joy and thankfulness for their escape, which passed between him and his young wife, as she clung to him for support, showed how little they considered the wreck of their property in comparison to the mercy which had spared them.-E. P. T.

A MISTAKEN VOCATION.

Miscellaneous.

THOUGHTS ON AN ENGLISH LANDSCAPE.

But in

TAKE the case of a common English landscape;-green meadows with fat cattle; canals, or navigable rivers; well-fenced, well-cultivated fields; neat, clean, scattered cottages; humble antique church, with churchyard elms; and crossing hedge-rows, all seen under bright skies, and in good weather: there is much beauty, as every one will acknowledge, in such a scene. what does the beauty consist? Not, certainly, in the mere mixture of colours and forms; for colours more pleasing, and lines more graceful, (according to any theory of grace that may be preferred,) might be spread upon a board, or a painter's pallet, without engaging the eye to a second glance, or raising the least emotion in the mind; but in the picture of human happiness, that is presented to our imaginations and affections,and in the visible and unequivocal signs of comfort, and cheerful and peaceful enjoyment,-and of that se cure and successful industry that insures its continuance, and of the piety by which it is exalted,—and of the simplicity by which it is contrasted with the guilt and the fever of a city life,-in the images of health and temperance and plenty, which it exhibits to every eye, and in the glimpses which it affords to warmer imaginations, of those primitive or fabulous times, when man was uncorrupted by luxury and ambition; and of those humble retreats on which we still delight | to imagine that love and philosophy may find an unpolluted asylum.-Lord Jeffrey.

CHRISTIAN URBAN, first alto of the Royal Academy of Music, expired at Paris last week. He was a consummate musician, and highly esteemed in the musical world. Short, ill-shaped, invariably wearing a sky-blue coat, and dining every day at the same table at the Café Anglais, Urban was well known for his originality. But what, above all, distinguished him was an extreme devotion, the minute practices of which he scrupulously followed. He went to mass every day of the week, and on Sundays attended every service. At night he brought with him to the Opera orchestra pious books, which he read with unction whenever he was permitted to quit his bow for a moment. You will ask why so devout an artist had engaged at the Opera. He deplored it, but had been obliged to enter the band. Urban had at first devoted his talents to sacred music, but it had not yielded him enough to live upon, and necessity had thrown him into the dramatic world a theatrical musician. All the resources of his mind were employed in reconciling his ideas with the exigencies of his profession. Whilst accompanying with his violin the song and the dance, he had remained a complete stranger to the spectacle, and to its pomp and fascinating attractions. He had made it a rule to keep his head constantly bent on his chest, and his eyes lowered on his music or prayer-book. On no account would he have infringed the duty he had imposed on himself, for the slightest infraction would have been to him an enormous sin. Never did his eyes venture across the proscenium; never did he see the end of the foot, or the lower part of the leg of a dancer, even when she executed her liveliest pirouettes or most celestial entrechats. He had a holy horror of such abominations. We do not exaggerate; it is literally true that Christian Urban was many years in the Opera orchestra without ever having seen the stage. He was as unacquainted with the cantatrices as with the danseuses. One day, in a drawing-room, he met a young and pretty woman, who addressed him as a person whom one often sees, and complimented him on his talents in flattering terms. "Who is that lady!" asked Urban. "What, don't you know her!" replied the master of the house. "I have never seen her." "Impossible! look at her well." "In vain do I look at her," reiterated Urban: "I assure you that I have never seen her before." He told the truth; and it was necessary to name Madame Dorus, whom he actually saw for the first time, although he had heard her sing for the last ten years. Urban knew no faces on the Opera stage, and knew as little of the plays as of the performers. He carefully avoided paying the least attention to those works of Satan; and the pious meditations into which he was plunged prevented his hearing the words of the lyric drama. Several modern works have exhibited on the stage the ceremonies and pomp of the Church. Urban considered it a profanation, and shuddered when he heard the chorus utter Church music. One evening, whilst a procession moved across the stage, he was seen to kneel in the orchestra, cross himself, and pray with joined hands, as if he had been at Notre Dame. At the moment death struck him, Urban was about to retire on a pension, and devote himself to monastic life, which promised him unmingled felicity. He has died, leaving the reputation of a very intelligent man, who, during Italian Peasant Girl Page twenty-five years never missed a single performance at the Opera, and never saw Guillaume Tell, Robert le Diable, the Huguenots, the Juire, Sylphide, nor Giselle of a musician of the Opera band who was faithfully at his post every night during those twenty-five years, and who, though provided with excellent eyes, never saw Mademoiselles Falcon, Nourrit, Taglioni, Madame Stoltz, Duprez, Carlotta Grisi, or any other of the gods and goddesses of either song or ballet.—Paris paper.

SOME Scotch officers were coasting along the shores of the Mediterranean in a felucca; when a woman's voice came warbling on their ears from the bosom of a grove; the air was that lovely, simple, and touching melody of their native land, The Broom of the Cowdenknowes. The associations it awakened were such as to make every chord of their manly hearts vibrate with emotion, and they wept. They landed in quest of the songstress, when, to their surprise, they discovered an old Scottish woman, seated at her cottage door, twirling her distaff, and lightening her task with these longcherished strains of her youth. She was the widow of a soldier who had been killed in battle, and she had been thrown by the tide of accident into the spot where the gentlemen found her. Their grateful feelings prompted them to offer to convey her to her native country, in return for the delight they had experienced from the pleasurable associations with home which her But, alas all her friends were notes had awakened.

dead, her native country was no longer her country,she was, as it were, rooted in the soil where she now vegetated, and, perhaps, she enjoyed her indulgence in those visionary visitations to the scenes of her youth which the singing of its ballads procured for her, more than she could have done the really visiting her native

land.

free of postage, on application to the Publisher, for the conve N.B.-A Stamped Edition of this Periodical can be forwarded nience of parties residing at a distance, price 2s. 6d. per quarter. CONTENTS.

in

Prison (with Illustration
by Warren)
Sketch of the Traditions

of Germany

Some account of Dr. Rad-
cliffe

The Festival of All-Saints'
Day

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82

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PRINTED by RICHARD CLAY, of Park Terrace, Highbury, in the Parish of St. Mary, Islington, at his Printing Office, Nos. 7 and 8, Bread Street Hill, in the Parish of St. Nicholas Olave, in the City of London, and published by THOMAS BOWDLFR SHARPE, of No. 15, Skinner Street, in the Parish of St. Sepulchre, in the City of London-Saturday, June 3, 1847.

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"My servant has a very good place of it, Sir. Why, besides her board and lodging, she has

all my left-off clothes."

VOL. IV.

ACCOUNT OF THE GREAT FLOOD AT

DRESDEN, IN THE YEAR 1845.

[The following vivid description, embodying the personal experience of a native of Dresden, during the calamity referred to, has been communicated to one of the contributors to this Magazine, and now appears in print for the first time.]

THE year 1845 has been, and ever will be, especially memorable to the dwellers on the banks of the Elbe, on account of the high floods which, at the commencement of spring, overspread vast tracts of country, and caused much misery and loss of life, with the desolation of many a smiling valley and peaceful habitation. In no part of their course were these floods more terrific, or more awfully grand, than in the lovely valley of Dresden; where, however, they were happily less destructive than in some other parts of their wild

career.

mind, you will the better understand the details of the calamity I am about to describe.

It cannot be forgotten that the chief feature in that remarkable winter was the enormous fall of snow in many of the continental countries, and the long continuance of that fleecy mantle, even to a period far beyond that which has been fixed on as the commencement of spring. Such masses of snow were drifted together, that, in the glens and ravines of the SaxonSwitzerland, as well as in the Silesian and Bohemian mountains, it lay to the depth of from twenty to thirty feet, and upwards. In the upper districts of the Saxon the Elbe) it completely stopped up the roads, which had Erz-mountains (all along the Bohemian frontier left of

to be cleared at immense cost and labour. The cottages, in the highest parts of these mountains, were for weeks immersed in the downy billows to the very chimney tops, and the inmates had literally to cut their passage out like miners.

For the benefit of these poor people, a pamphlet, with descriptive woodcuts, was offered for sale; and though in the latter the truth was somewhat overstepped, and an exaggerated picture was given of the wild wintry scenes of these desolate tracts, yet a better idea was given of the sad reality than could have been conveyed by words.

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That you may understand my description the better, let me recall to your recollection the situation of Dresden and its environs with respect to the river Elbe. From Pirna, where the river breaks forth from the rocky walls which fetter its course all the way through the Saxon and Bohemian Switzerland, it rolls its waters along a wide open valley, which stretches in a northwesterly direction, nearly as far down as Meissen, a distance of about four German miles. At first, the river seems to prefer the vine-clad hills on its right bank to the cultivated fields and gardens on its left; but, about the middle of the valley, it appears to take a sudden fancy to the left side, and crosses over to it in an oblique direction. Midway on this oblique line stands the attractive little capital of Saxony, being situated in a plain, not much above the level of the river, but soon rising gently from it on either side. Thus portions of Neustadt (the New Town), which is on the right bank of the river, and portions of Altstadt, and Friedrichstadt (Old Town, and Frederic's Town), on the left bank, are comprised in the low-lying district close upon the Elbe, while the adjacent rising grounds are occupied by the chief part of the town. Facing the river on the Altstadt side, is the Brühlische Terrace, one of the great attractions of Dresden. This formed part of the ancient fortifications, and consists of bastions and high walls, rising nobly from the stream, whose waters vainly dash and murmur against its strong foundations. This terrace extends about eight hundred feet, and, at its western end, a handsome flight of steps leads down to the fine old bridge, overarching the river, and forming the only solid means of communication between the two chief portions of the town, Alt and Neustadt. Below the bridge, on both banks, are landingplaces and wharfs for the goods brought up and down the river in boats. Farther down, on the left side, Raging storms came on, accompanied by thickly extends a low but lovely meadow ground, interspersed whirling showers of snow, now and then changing into with avenues of lime-trees, called the gehege (preserves), drizzling rain. Mists and heavy clouds at other times which is embraced by a large circuit of the river to freezing point. On the first day of the Easter holydays obscured the sun, the thermometer still keeping the wards the north. Shoals of pebbles and sand, between the river was crowded with skaters, sliders, and sledging the gehege and the wharfs, indicate the mouth of aparties, and a fair was even talked of, as likely to be small tributary of the Elbe, called the Weisseritz, shortly established on the frozen stream. A friend emerging from a rocky glen among the south-western of mine, who had long been confined to his room by hills. This little stream separates Friedrichstadt, the illness, had set his mind on a skating expedition on the "west end" of Dresden, from Altstadt, the easterly portion. At the same spot also terminates a channel of (1) The general breaking up of the ice is thus denominated in the Weisseritz, called the Mühlgraben, or the Mill-Germany. stream, after having run through the western suburbs ing glance of Spring; the joy of hope is verdant in the valleys; old (2) Rivers and brooks are liberated from ice by the gentle, vivifyof Altstadt. If you bear these several particulars in Winter in his weakness withdraws to desolate mountains.

In the same way all Bohemia-from the mountaintops, encircling this fine country, down to the bed of the Elbe, which receives their numerous streams-was loaded with the same dense wintry garment. From the end of February one thick layer of snow was buried by another and heavier one; and now, even over the minds | of the least concerned persons, the secret fear of a dangerous eisgang' began to creep. This apprehension was more than confirmed by reference to the chronicles weather had always proved fatal in its consequences to of past centuries, which showed that a similar state of the districts bordering on the rivers, especially the Elbe. To meet the impending evil, government now began to take vigorous measures for the security of life and property. At different points along the river, officials were stationed to warn those of the inhabitants most exposed to danger, and to arrange and direct the families to retreat in time, with all their moveables, to proper measures of safety by word and action, causing places of refuge prepared for them. To these wise precautions it is chiefly to be attributed that the loss of human life, and the destruction of property, were so small, compared with the great extent of the calamity. At proper distances pieces of ordnance were stationed, to announce, with the alacrity of thunder, the breaking the Prussian frontiers. Amidst these apprehensions and up of the ice at any point, from the Bohemian down to || preparations holy Easter had drawn near, and at last appeared, but with it no sign of genial spring, not as Göthe so beautifully has it :—

"Vom Eise befreit sind Strom und Bäche
Durch des Frühlings holden, belebenden Blick;
Im Thale grünet Hoffnungs-Glück;
Der alte Winter in seiner Schwäche,
Zog sich in rauhe Berge zurück." (2)

GÖTHE.-Faust.

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second Easter holyday; and he was enabled to perform | a glimpse of the river, and a very surprising one it was. it, although under very unfavourable circumstances. Below the bridge the river presented its clear and For it was on that day early in the morning that the quiet mirror nearly as far as the eye could reach, only weather changed decidedly, and earth, air, and sky in the distance a compact mass of ice slowly and majesindicated that the last day of surly winter was at hand. tically made its retreat, like a defeated enemy who The streaming rain, however, was, for nearly the whole reluctantly gives way after stout resistance. Above the of this and the following day, quite unavailing over bridge, however, the river was still firmly fettered the thick masses of snow, which imbibed it like by the ice, and no immediate sign of its delivery thousands of sponges; and it was not until a warm appearing, the multitude dispersed to their homes, southerly gale began to breathe over the vast expanse with the exception of those who, unwilling to be absent that the solid mass began to dissolve by degrees into when the catastrophe occurred, took possession of the its original form. No sooner had this melting com- taverns on the high ground, whence they could obtain menced, than torrents of water came pouring down the a good view of the bridge and of the river. Incredible roofs, rushing from every corner and recess of houses, would it have appeared to them, had any one stood up and soon turning streets and squares into lakes and and declared, that in two days the wild waves should pools of water, from which bubbling rivulets ran out occupy the very place on which they stood, and spread in every direction. The sewers were wholly insufficient a desolation hitherto unknown. to swallow the hundreds of small torrents, and indeed soon became choked up.

As matters stood, a general feeling began to prevail that all would go off well, the open state of the stream below the bridge having, as it appeared, removed the danger of a stoppage across the river, and thus given promise of the general safety.

A strange sight it was when at last the tiles and slates on the roofs of houses and churches re-appeared! Not so quickly were the pavement and ground restored to view. With pickaxes, spades, and every kind of break- The Elbmesser, an instrument to mark the height of ing implement, they had to be freed from their burden, the water in the Elbe, and which was affixed to the and heavy cart-loads of icy matter were constantly middle pillar of the bridge, now became an object of moving towards the river, and crowds of workmen general interest, but there was nothing yet to excite were busy all over the town making, at least, the foot-apprehension. The Elbmesser is divided into ten parts ways passable. Out of town all remained apparently or ellen, and at close of day the water did not reach unmoved and stationary. The highways seemed, as it higher than the fourth elle. Night came on and were, Macadamized with compact snow, wedged quietly passed over; but at five o'clock in the morning together into an icy substance. Only the tops of the of Friday, the thunder of cannon broke the rest of the most prominent hills were peeping forth their melan-people all along the river from the Bohemian to the choly dark heads, looking over the white waste, now Prussian frontier. At seven o'clock the ice was in full changing by degrees into a muddy, greyish coloured motion near Dresden. The darkness of the morning had dress. But the smaller rivers, swelled by the incessant hidden the interesting sight of the first heaving up and rains and melting snows, now began to uplift and break bursting asunder of the icy coat by the swell of waters their icy crust. The Weisseritz and Briesseritz-river in beneath; but the view of the river was still imposing the immediate neighbourhood of Dresden, the Lock- and beautiful. Not a glimpse of the water bearing the witz-Bach, and several others, soon succeeded in throwing heavy load could be obtained; and so thickly was it off the fetters which had chained them in such a long thronged with, for the most part, very large pieces of bondage. The harmless manner in which this was ice, that it appeared as if the whole contents of the effected seemed to many persons a good omen respecting stream were solid, yet in motion. There was no room the Elbe Eisgang; but, alas! this proved a mere delu- for what Bürger beautifully describession, very soon to be overthrown. Towards the evening of Mary (Lady) day the thaw became rapid, and here and there the fields on the hill-sides were laid bare; several instances of little avalanches likewise occurred

in the hilly districts of the surrounding country. As a remarkable phenomenon, it was observed that near the lovely village of Kreische, nine miles distant from Dresden, in the afternoon of the said day, the whole mass of snow covering one side of the hills was suddenly lifted up, and tumbled down with a crashing noise. This was owing to the numerous little springs which stud this slope, and of which there are great numbers in the hilly districts generally. Rumours from the Bohemian frontier now asserted that the breaking of the ice was about to take place. To numbers of people this was a cause of anxiety and watchfulness, while to others it merely served as a zest to their curiosity and love of sight-seeing. Every ear was now intent for the sound of cannon, the signal that the ice was moving. Yet the whole of Wednesday passed without the expected sign, and not a few grew tired and impatient of watching for it.

It was not until late in the afternoon of Thursday, 27th of March, that a deep and awful sound rolled over the town. It struck every ear and heart. In a few minutes thousands of inhabitants were roused, and poured forth from every house and street towards the river. When I arrived there, which was scarcely more

than a quarter of an hour from the firing of the first shot, every point along the whole extent of the Brühlische Terrace, as well as both sides of the bridge, was closely occupied by spectators, on whose faces curiosity mixed with traces of anxiety was the prevailing feature. After several attempts I succeeded in catching

"Die Schollen rollten Schuss auf Schuss
Von beiden Ufern hier und dort."1

Towards five o'clock in the afternoon, twelve hours after the early signal, the water had already risen seven ellen over the usual level, and as the rain continued it

was very much to be feared that a still higher rising would take place. A crack down one of the middle pillars of the bridge was now a truly awful sight. The far-spread torrent with majestic grandeur bore downwards enormous blocks of ice, which, arriving at the sistance they found, then like giants leaned against the bridge, seemed to pause in astonishment at the renoble building which trembled and groaned under their weight.

Yet it bravely withstood their shocks, and gradually crushed and crumbled its powerful enemies, which were then driven furiously through the narrowed arches and whelmed in the roaring whirlpools below. Listlessly stared the thousands of spectators on this grand spectacle when night again closed the scene.

On the following morning, (Saturday the 29th,) there was a return of cold. The thermometer stood at thirty, and the rain changed into a heavy fall of snow. Every one eagerly sought the Elbmesser, but turned in disappointment away on finding that inch after inch was being lost in the swelling waters. The increase at this time was generally attributed to the junction of the Elbe waters with those of the Eger, which poured down The dark yellowish colour of the waters was indicative the melted snows of an extensive mountain region. of this having taken place. The river was not now so densely crowded with masses of ice, but in the intervals

(1) The noise of contending flakes of ice resounded from both banks hither and thither.

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