[Illustration: "Approaching Bingen we see vineyards covering the mountain side." (_See page 313._)]
This house is indeed delightfully located in the midst of a beautiful country. Bingen is a lovely town at the entrance of the romantic Nahe valley, looking out upon mountain, glen and river on every side, upon lofty castles and vine-embowered cottages. Quaint narrow streets and ancient buildings, whose history is buried in the distant centuries, tempt the lover of the picturesque to linger in this neighborhood. The place was known to the Romans, who erected a castle here, which was destroyed by the French in 1689, but which has been restored and extended. There is a beautiful view from the tower, and footpaths ascend to it both from the Nahe and the Rhine.
Here are old historic taverns, whose floors are composed of large slabs of stone. The primitive chairs and tables are of rude workmanship, and devoid of paint or style, but heavy and strong enough to support the weary travellers who resort thither.
We wander about, revelling in nature's enchanting pictures, and rejoicing in the mysterious atmosphere of the dense forests, which form the background. The smiling river, with its silver sheen beneath the moon, or its golden reflections of the setting sun, is ever an inspiration and a suggestion for some new trip or point of vantage. Yes, here are scenes for the artist, and pictures ready for the camera. Here too, on a quartz rock in the middle of the Rhine is the Mouse Tower which is said to owe its name to the well-known legend of the cruel Archbishop Hatto of Mayence.
In the year 914, a protracted rain ruined the harvest in this region, and a terrible famine ensued among the poor people, who in their distress finally applied to the archbishop, as his granaries were overflowing with the harvests of former years. But the hard-hearted prelate would not listen to them. At last they wearied him so with their importunities, that he bade them assemble in an empty barn, promising to meet them on a certain day and quiet their demands.
Delighted with the prospect of relief, the people gathered on the appointed day in such numbers that the barn was soon filled. The archbishop ordered his servants to fasten all the doors and windows so that none could escape, and then set fire to the building, declaring that they were as troublesome as rats, and should perish in the same way.