You must not suppose the stream to be
clear like the Aar, for it is as thick as pea-soup, and about the same
colour, being in fact a river of trass in solution. The banks, however,
are picturesque and well wooded, particularly at Schweppenbourg, an old
castle of peculiar architecture, built on an elevated rock, and formerly
belonging to the family of Metternich, (God save the mark!) The tower is
surrounded with caverns and halls, hollowed out of the trass stone, and
profusely ornamented with fine oaks, pines, and spreading beech trees.
You may almost fancy yourself on magic ground, and looking on a fairy
castle, so peculiar is the effect. I next reached Burgbrohl and
Wassenach, passing several of the trass mills, for the stone is in many
places hard enough for mill-stones, and there is a considerable trade in
them to Holland, and thence to England and other countries. Half an hour
next brought me to the summit of the Feitsberg, one of the hills forming
the circumference of the lake; here I enjoyed a magnificent prospect on
the one side of the lake, well clothed with wood, with the old
six-towered abbey on its bank, and the heights of the Eiffel chain
enclosing it; on the other side, the view was so extensive as to give me
a glimpse of Ehrenbreitstein, and of the line of hills from thence to
the Siebengebrige.
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