The river is in parts so shallow that breakwaters are built out from the banks, in order to deepen the centre of the stream; this, of course, makes the water run swifter, and it requires great toil of many horses to tug the barges up the stream. Floating down these rapids is agreeable enough, and the descent is made with very little labour, towns and villages succeeding each other on the banks, the approaches to them being lined with fruit-trees, of which the walnut and cherry are the most conspicuous.
The cherries are excellent, and so plentiful that children will often refuse a handful when offered, having previously gorged themselves at home. Numbers are exported, going by river to Coblence, and so on down the Rhine.
Apricots are also abundant in good seasons. They are grown on standard trees.
Garden produce of all sorts abounds, and apples and pears drop unheeded to the ground.
Through incidents like these, on bank and river, we glide on. We have, perhaps, halted during the midday heat at some inviting spot, where the cool shadows reposed beneath the walnuts; now the evening draws near, and rounding a corner, our resting-place for the night appears. The thin mist rising from the river obscures the base of the church, whose sharply-pointed spire is conspicuous above the trees; lights fall in tremulous lines from the high windows, and in the air is the sound of—
CHURCH MUSIC.
From the church the anthem pealing,
O’er the wave is gently stealing:
Now it swells, now dies away,
Making holy harmony.