LETTER IV.
We left Baden-Baden a little before seven. The scenery had exactly the same character—level to the right, to which indeed was now added a view of distant high mountains; on the left, wooded hills; often picturesque with peak or precipice crowned by ruined castles. We dined at Offenberg, at the inn, “La Fortune,”—a very excellent one—where we had a good dinner; the host had lived in England, and now frequently exported wine thither. He showed us a book containing the names of his English customers, and took my companions into his cellars, to taste his vintage. He was a jovial, good-humoured man.[1]
Before dinner at Offenberg, we had walked towards a ruin on the hills, but had not time to reach it; it was picturesque, and continued long to grace the landscape as we proceeded along the plain;
- ↑ We have since imported wine from him, and the transaction has turned out quite successful.
