her. It wor no use gettin’ to be fond on her when I had no chance o’ seein’ her in the next place, an’ so she’s better goan. I dare say it wor a tempting o’ the Bad One to mak’ me mak’ an idol on her, but I resisted him, an’ now young Harry Bentley will hav’ it all his own way. Nay, nay, not so! If he don’t do t’ raight thing by her, he shall suffer for’t. I’ll be to him as that other woman of God wor to Sisera. He shan’t crow ower me nor mine. An’ she be lost in t’ next world, more cause to gi’e her some’at in this. Poor bairn, I’d hav’ kep’ her, but I fancied it wor a sin. God forgi’e me if I’m wrang, but no—I can’t hev made a mistak’.”
NUREMBERG.
n a summer so severe as the one which is now something more than past, the ardour for Alpine climbing flags, except in the very hardened tourist. Yet the long vacation and the recess of Parliament have to be bridged over, and travel of some sort must be accomplished. It is of importance, therefore, to find places in Europe where one may be dry and yet interested; cities, for example, like Nuremberg, which, lying a little out of the main track, are, exactly in proportion to that deviation, less visited by summer pilgrims in their annual search after health and relaxation, or their flight from ennui.
Nuremberg, or Nürnberg, is far from being beautifully situated. Its entourage is flat. The level landscape, however, allows the tall spires of its churches to be seen from a distance, and, on a nearer approach, displays the towers which protect its wall, one hundred and twenty in number, as well as the castle, and the buildings of inferior height. Neither has Nuremberg, within, that picturesque crowding together of houses which is necessitated in many walled towns, and which imparts to Rouen such antique .png)
Dormer Window, Nuremberg.beauty and Prout-like effect. It is better to make these two preliminary remarks, lest when visited for the first time by those who think they know the appearance of the city well by report, a slight feeling of disappointment be felt, a hidden want, arising from the open and scattered plan of the town, compared with fancy’s more romantic presentation. It is with architecture as it is with pears. There is an hour of perfect ripeness. After that is attained, the fruit rots and drops—the building becomes a ruin—
“ whose only business is to perish.”
It is difficult to lay the finger on the exact line of demarcation, because none exists in reality. Who, for instance, can say precisely when the imperceptibly increasing embonpoint ceases to add fuller beauty to woman? Who can tell the very measure of love, when—
“Altho’ it could not live with less,
The heart would burst with more?”
We cannot decide theoretically, but we know intuitively; and, knowing, we desire to arrest that mellow stage of the pear, the abbey, the figure, and the affections, which is æsthetically the best..png)
Oriel Window, Nuremberg.
