The Dickinson press., 1888-11-03
AMONG TIE ALPS.
AN AMERICAN TOURIST WRITES A
LETTER FROM scHAFFHAUsEN.

The Peculiar Dance Called LA Fran
caisc"-A Short Ride Into Germany.
Solitude of the Black Eorcst-A Party
of Woodchoppcrs-An Interior.
In former Years our little American colony
in Schaffhausen numbered in all six souls,
and, to use an excusable bull, two of these
Americans were Belgians, having resided in
New York some years. Now there is not
even a shadow of q colony here, and bcauti-
full as the tours about the cnvirons are, they
are quite abandoned by our countrymcn.
The average traveller arrives at Schatfhauscn,
is Immediately rushed into an omnibus,
driven over to Neuhausen, sees the falls of tho
Rhine, and then away again. Not so your
correspondent, for l quietly settled down at
the Hotel dc Ia Poste, a quiet hosiery in the
city itself, slipped into my smoking jacket
and slippers. and was soon chatting with
mine host, buchanan, just as if the seventeen
years since l last rested here We're yesterday.
"Ah!' said my genial host, you are just
in time, Herr Iilson. Tomorrow evening
the castle, the old Munoth, is TO be the scene
of n reception, given by the Stadtsrath to
tho singing societies Of Canton AppcnZell,
and l will see that you are specially invited"
And invited l was, and the following even
Ing found INT seated at the round table within
the %csplanadc of the castle. while the .Appen-
Zellels made merry music about me. Then
dancing was in order, and although l am not
IL dancer myself l will try to describe Il pc
culiar dance they call "La Francaisc,' which
Appeared Very pretty to lie as | sat and
looked on. Tho sets were formed as for our
ordinary German at home, but after u few
hon. ~ ,,,.;, 1,xi IL. T ..., = ,..,
to be quite different. Everybody is the pink
the honor::' the hat is raised, the lady courte-
sizes very low, and in fact more quiet polite
ness is displayed than one meets at a similar
Partisan gathering.
AT length all is ready. After the customs
airy salute the music falls into n veritable
minuet, us stately almost us the one of tine
French Louis. Follow it with me, dear
reader, i'll fancy, at least. The old minuct Of
our ancestors, forward and salute, the gen
tlcman holding the ladv's hand with q quite
Undesirable grace rs high us the shoulder,
then across and back again; but while | um
gazing dreainily Oh this scene, what do l
hear! Why, to be sure, one of Strauss raw
ishing waltzes, and presto! the whole is
changed from the sober to the gay, and | see
nothing but the rosy, healthy faces turning
about, while the tails of the gentlcmcn's dress
coats stand at nm angle of forty-tivc degrees,
so fast do tlesa South Germans and Swiss
waltz. And so the dance ends.
But | have promised, gentle reader. to take
you into the country, so let us take this train
for 4 short ride into Germany (for You must
remember Schatrhauscn lies on the German
side of the Rhine and We soon come to tho
village Of krotzingen, on the extreme south
-- Al Dbl ~ .t
called the Black Forest, for the tall pines
and ccdars grow o setogether, making night
of noon under Their shadows. Taking II car
riage, or, more properly, n sort of light cart,
I directed my driver to strike by tho most
unfrequcntcd road into the forest. In tf-
teen minutes we We're in u solitude so still
that it was oppressive. Not a sound save
that peculiar swaying noise of the pines that
only u Bret lIarte can describe, and an occa-
sional cry of u bird very similar to our cat
bird; otherwise all is I'M jestically.still.
l order the driver to halt, and while he is
opening the little hamper and spreading our
frugal luncheon l take my compass and make
n little inroad into the woods. l hear Il
brook trickling over the rocks, and as l APP
proach q frightened hare scalnpcrs through
the brush. Poor creature! l am as much
startled as he, for my head is full of such
stories us the Iron Ring, and l half look to
meet one of the old robber chiefs and his
band, that a couple of centuries ago made
this forest Il dangerous place, and whose
spirits, some of the more ignorant peasants
believe, are still to DO met with by the be-
lated traveller. But bark! l hear my guide
calling, SO back l so to luncheon. The wise
fellow has put our bottle of Macon into the
brook to cool, and we sit down together in
the best Of fellowship to our little luncheon
i'll the Black Forest. At length all is finished
and we drive along, and by n circuitous
route reach the village of Staufcn. 1t isl
more populous place than l expected to find
here. 1t has its own little hotel, called "The
Wild Man," and adjoining it a brewery, Il
little row of stores, and, in fact, is quite a
city in tho woods.
But we plunge into the woods again and
presently come to u party of woodchoppcrs,
their axes ringing merrily, but only against
such trees as the Herr Postmaster has given
permission to be cut, and still farther along l.
hear the dripping of water on q mill wheel,
and here we enter the little village of Inter
munstcrthal, u veritable Black Forest dorf.
l knock at the doorpost of a house, for the
door stands open, and n man with Il heavy
pair OF sabots appears, and l ask permission
to come in and see his house. He is natur-
ally surprised that any one should want to
see his house, but accords mo permission and
l enter. Against the wall stands a large
porcelain stove, at least eight feet high, while
just outside is his pile of brush md wood for
the winter. His cattle shed is just to the
rear, and his chamber above, reached by Il
short ladder. The odor of the cattle per
vades everything, so l make my adieus and
we arc soon on our way to Neukirch, where
l take the train back again to Schatfhausen,
which l reach not q bit fatigucd with my
beautiful journey.-George II. Elson in Bos-
ton Transcript.