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Updated: May 10, 2025
A pleasant pastoral country rather than romantic or picturesque is the Ban de la Roche, but close at hand is the lofty Donon, which may be climbed from Rothau or Foudai, and there are many other excursions within reach. Here, for the present, the romance of Alsace travel ends, and all is prose of a somewhat painful kind.
From Foudai, too, you may climb the wild rocky plateau known as the Champ de Feu no spot in the Vosges chain is more interesting from a geological point of view. After much pleasant talk we took leave of our kind hosts, not going away, however, without visiting the church.
Here, as at Foudai, the entire population is Protestant. The church and parsonage lie at the back of the village, and we were warmly welcomed by the pastor and his wife, a great-great-granddaughter of Oberlin. Their six pretty children were playing in the garden with two young girls in the costume of Alsace, forming a pleasant domestic picture.
We had a most delightful drive by the side of the river, flowing along the fertile meadows: the hills on each side variegated with trees of almost every color, and occasional vineyards added to the richness of the scene. After travelling twelve leagues, we arrived at Foudai, where we met with an affectionate and hearty welcome from the whole family of the Legrands.
From the sweet, fragrant valley of Rothau a road winds amid green hills and by the tumbling river to the little old-world village of Foudai, where Oberlin lies buried. The tiny church and shady churchyard lie above the village, and a more out-of-the-way spot than Foudai itself can hardly be imagined.
A tablet with medallion portrait of Oberlin bears the touching inscription that for fifty-nine years he was "the father of this parish." Then we drove back as we had come, stopping at Foudai to rest the horse and drink tea. We were served in a cool little parlour opening on to a garden, and, so tempting looked the tiny inn that we regretted we could not stay there a week.
The little river winding amid hayfields and fruit-trees leads us thither from Foudai in half-an-hour. It is Sunday afternoon, and a fete day. Young and old in Sunday garb are keeping holiday, the lads and lasses waltzing, the children enjoying swings and peep-shows. No acerbity has lingered among these descendants of the austere parishioners of Oberlin.
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