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The broad mountains of the Black Forest rear their fronts on the east, and the blue lines of the French Vosges meet the clouds on the west. The night before, in walking over the plain, I saw distinctly the whole of the Strassburg minster, whose spire is the highest in Europe, being four hundred and ninety feet, or but twenty-five feet lower than the Pyramid of Cheops.

He is not a learned man, but a man of experience, and we live together like children. When he thinks of his wife and family whom he has left in Paris, I try to comfort him, and when I think of my own people he speaks comfort to me. Now you see what Strassburg is!

Once I saw some storks that had flown down from Strassburg and were standing on their long legs in the marshes. But our side of the train was truly the more pleasant one. There were grape-vines and mulberry trees and wheat-fields; and also cypress trees, which you did not mention, but which we were glad to see.

But what will happen if we should quarrel with the western powers on this account? You may count on my vote in the Bundestag until war is at hand. Then conditions will be altered. I am as ready as the next man to fulfil my obligations. But take care lest you judge people differently from what they are. Give us Strassburg, and we shall be with you at all hazards.

Her charms, the attractions of the chase, the society of a small circle of French émigrés, and an occasional secret visit to the theatre at Strassburg, formed the chief diversions to an otherwise monotonous life, until he was fired with the hope of a speedy declaration of war by Austria and Russia against Napoleon.

"Brethren! Let us have some speeches!" "Musicians, bush!" "Come up to the bank and I'll explain to you why I didn't discount it." "A speech! Silence!" "Musicians, cease playing!" "Strike up 'In the Meadows." "Madame Angot!" "No! Yakov Tarasovich, we beg of you!" "That's called Strassburg pastry." "We beg of you! We beg of you!" "Pastry? It doesn't look like it, but I'll taste it all the same."

It seemed to the peasants that thus they had deserved better of their country than Belfort and Strassburg, that they had set an equally valuable example, and that the name of their little village would become immortalized by that; but with that exception, they refused their Prussian conquerors nothing.

I was once foolish enough to ask an old Alsatian soldier who was patiently holding his rod over a most unpromising canal near Strassburg, what kind of fish he was fishing for. "All kinds," was his rebuking answer, and I took off my hat to the veteran romanticist. The words "romance" and "romanticism" have been repeated to the ears of our generation with wearisome iteration.

Save this cathedral, Strassburg has nothing except peaked-roofed houses, dotted with six or seven rows of gable windows. Mrs. Stowe published this work in 1854, after returning from the tour she made soon after achieving great fame with "Uncle Tom's Cabin."

Before she left Strassburg she received a visit from the Elector of Baden, whose grandson, the hereditary prince, was, the next year, to marry Mademoiselle Stephanie de Beauharnais, in spite of the opposition of his mother, the Margravine.