Here the mischievous rascal amused himself by shouting to the ferrymen, “Fetch over! Fetch over!” They, thinking it the voice of a voyager, willingly crossed; then Maurus jeered them, clapping his hands: at last the priests attacked him again, and drove him into the forest. Still, at times the wicked Maurus sneaks into town, and sits on the doorstep of his old house, and his voice is yet heard in the forest, where he wanders for ever.
A charming mountain walk of about four miles leads to Trarbach. Up through the vines we climb, no longer wondering where all the wine comes from; above the vines is a bare crest of heath-covered turf, then a steep descent leads into the valley, at the mouth of which Trarbach is placed: but by going this road, beautiful as it is, more interesting scenery is omitted. The distance by river from Berncastel to Trarbach is about fifteen miles, while by land it is only, as we have said, about four, so great are the bendings of the stream; which, however, we shall follow, being by no means tired of her society. It was at Berncastel that the following verses were written, after admiring the lovely effects there produced by the
MORNING MISTS.
I love the river when the sunshine gay
Kisses the waves, which joyful seem to play,
Dancing like elves so merrily around,
Rippling and gurgling with many a happy sound.
I love the river when the dewdrops fall,
When rocks re-echo to the herdsman’s call,