Heremembered，beforeheslept，thehourofhisyouthwhenhewasinMayencebefore，andwassocarefreethathehadheardwithimpersonaljoytwoyoungAmericanvoicesspeakingEnglishinthestreetunderhiswindow。Oneofthembrokefromthecommontalkwithagayburlesqueofpathosintheline：
　　“Ohheavens！shecried，myHeedingcountrysave！”
　　andthenwithalaughinggood-nighttheseunseen，unknownspiritsofyouthpartedanddeparted。Whowerethey，andinwhatdifferentplaces，withwhatcaresorills，hadtheirjoyousvoicesgrownold，orfallensilentforevermore？Itwasamoonlightnight，Marchremembered，andherememberedhowhewishedhewereoutinitwiththosemerryfellows。
　　Henursedthememoryandthewonderinhisdreamingthought，andhewokeearlytoothervoicesunderhiswindow。Butnowthevoices，thoughyoung，weremanyandwereGerman，andthemarchoffeetandthestampofhooveskepttimewiththeirsinging。Hedrewhiscurtainandsawthestreetfilledwithbrokensquadsofmen，someafootandsomeonhorseback，someinuniformandsomeincivildresswithstudents’caps，looselystragglingonandroaringforththatsongwhosewordshecouldnotmakeout。Atbreakfastheaskedthewaiterwhatitallmeant，andhesaidthatthesewereconscriptswhoseservicehadexpiredwiththelatemanoeuvres，andwhowerenowgoinghome。HepromisedMarchatranslationofthesong，buthenevergaveit；andperhapsthesenseoftheirjoyfulhome-goingremainedthemorepoeticwithhimbecauseitsutteranceremainedinarticulate。
　　MarchspenttherainySunday，onwhichtheyhadfallen，inwanderingaboutthelittlecityalone。Hiswifesaidshewastiredandwouldsitbythefire，andhearaboutMayencewhenhecamein。Hewenttothecathedral，whichhasitsrenownforbeautyandantiquity，andhethereaddedtohisstockofusefulinformationthefactthatthepeopleofMayenceseemedveryCatholicandverydevout。TheyproveditbypreferringtoanyofthedivineoldGothicshrinesinthecathedral，anuglybaroquealtar，whichwaseverywherehungaboutwithvotiveofferings。Afashionablydressedyoungmanandyounggirlsprinkledthemselveswithholywaterasreverentlyasiftheyhadbeenoldandragged。Sometouristsstrolledupanddowntheaisleswiththeirredguide-books，andstudiedtheobjectsofinterest。Aresplendentbeadleinacockedhat，andwithalongstaffofauthorityposedbeforehisownecclesiasticalconsciousnessinblueandsilver。Atthehighaltarapriestwassayingmass，andMarchwonderedwhetherhisconsciousnesswasaswhollyecclesiasticalasthebeadle’s，orwhethersomewhereinithefeltthehistoricalmajesty，thelonghumanconsecrationoftheplace。
　　HewanderedatrandominthetownthroughstreetsGermanandquaintandold，andstreetsFrenchandfineandnew，andgotbacktotheriver，whichhecrossedononeoftheseveralhandsomebridges。Theroughriverlookedchillunderaskyofwindyclouds，andhefeltoutofseason，bothastothesummertravel，andastothejourneyhewasmaking。Thesummeroflifeaswellasthesummerofthatyearwaspast。BetterreturntohisownradiatorinhisflatonStuyvesantSquare；tothegreatuglybrutaltownwhich，ifitwasnothometohim，wasasmuchhometohimastoanyone。AlongingforNewYorkwelleduphisheart，whichwasperhapsreallyawishtobeatworkagain。Hesaidhemustkeepthisfromhiswife，whoseemednotverywell，andwhomhemusttrytocheerupwhenhereturnedtothehotel。
　　Buttheyhadnotaveryjoyousafternoon，andtheeveningwasnogayer。
　　TheysaidthatiftheyhadnotorderedtheirletterssenttoDusseldorftheybelievedtheyshouldpushontoHollandwithoutstopping；andMarchwouldhavelikedtoask，WhynotpushontoAmerica？Butheforbore，andhewasafterwardsgladthathehaddoneso。
　　Inthemorningtheirspiritsrosewiththesun，thoughthesungotupbehindcloudsasusual；andtheywerefurtheranimatedbytheimpositionwhichthelandlordpractiseduponthem。Afteradistinctandrepeatedagreementastothepriceoftheirroomshechargedthemtwiceasmuch，andthenmadeameritofthrowingofftwomarksoutofthetwentyhehadplunderedthemof。
　　“NowIsee。”saidMrs。March，ontheirwaydowntotheboat，“howfortunateitwasthatwebakedhisclock。Youmaylaugh，butIbelieveweweretheinstrumentsofjustice。”
　　“Doyousupposethatclockwasneverbakedbefore？”askedherhusband。
　　“Thelandlordhashisownarrangementwithjustice。Whenheoverchargeshispartingguestshesaystohisconscience，Well，theybakedmyclock。”
　　Themorningwasraw，butitwassomethingnottohaveitrainy；andthecloudsthathunguponthehillsandhidtheirtopswereatleastasfineasthelongboardsignsadvertisingchocolateontheriverbanks。ThesmokerisingfromthechimneysofthemanufactoriesofMayencewasnotsobad，either，whenonegottheminthedistancealittle；andMarchlikedthewaytheriverswamtothestemsofthetreesonthelowgrassyshores。ItwasliketheMississippibetweenSt。LouisandCairointhat，anditwasyellowandthick，liketheMississippi，thoughhethoughtheremembereditblueandclear。AfriendlyGerman，ofthosewhobegantocomeaboardmoreandmoreatallthelandingsafterleavingMayence，assuredhimthatbewasright，andthattheRhinewasunusuallyturbidfromtheunusualrains。MarchhadhisownbeliefthatwhateverthecoloroftheRhinemightbetherainswerenotunusual，buthecouldnotgainsaythefriendlyGerman。
　　MostofthepassengersatstartingwereEnglishandAmerican；buttheyshowednoprescienceoftheinternationalaffinitionwhichhassincerealizeditself，intheirbehaviortowardoneanother。Theyheldsilentlyapart，andmingledonlyintheeffectofoneyoungmanwhokepttheMarchesinperpetualquestionwhetherhewasaBostonianoranEnglishman。HislookwasBostonian，buthisaccentwasEnglish；andwasheaBostonianwhohadbeeninEnglandlongenoughtogettheaccent，orwasheanEnglishmanwhohadbeeninBostonlongenoughtogetthelook？
　　Heworeabelatedstrawhat，andathinsack-coat；andintherushoftheboatthroughtherawairtheyfanciedhimverycold，andlongedtoofferhimoneoftheirsuperabundantwraps。AttimesMarchactuallyliftedashawlfromhisknees，feelingsurethatthestrangerwasEnglishandthathemightmakesoboldwithhim；thenatsomeglacialglintintheyoungman’seye，oratsomepetrificexpressionofhisdelicateface，hefeltthathewasaBostonian，andlostcourageandlettheshawlsinkagain。
　　MarchtriedtoforgethiminthewonderofseeingtheGermansbegintoeatanddrink，assoonastheycameonboardseitherfromthebasketstheyhadbroughtwiththem，orfromtheboat’sprovision。Butheprevailed，withhissmilethatwaslikeasneer，throughalltheeventsofthevoyage；andtookMarch’smindoffthescenerywithasuddenwrenchwhenhecameunexpectedlyintoviewafteramomentarydisappearance。Atthetabled’hote，whichwasservedwhenthelandscapebegantobelessinteresting，theguestswereexpectedtohandtheirplatesacrossthetabletothestewardsbuttokeeptheirknivesandforksthroughoutthedifferentcourses，andateachofthesepartialchangesMarchfelttheyoungman’schillyeyesuponhim，inculpatinghimforthesemi-
　　civilizationofthemanagement。AtsuchtimesheknewthathewasaBostonian。
　　Theweathercleared，astheydescendedtheriver，andunderaskyatlastcloudless，theMarcheshadmomentsofswiftreversiontotheirformerRhinejourney，whentheywereyoungandthepurplelightoflovemantledthevineyardedhillsalongtheshore，andflushedthecastledsteeps。
　　Thescenehadlostnothingofthebeautytheydimlyremembered；therewerecertainfeaturesofitwhichseemedevenfairerandgranderthantheyremembered。ThetownofBingen，whereeverybodywhoknowsthepoemwasmoreorlessborn，wasbeautifulinspiteofitsfactorychimneys，thoughtherewerenocompensatingcastlesnearit；andthecastlesseemedasgoodasthoseofthetheatre。Hereandtheresomeofthemhadbeenrestoredandwereoccupied，probablybyrobberbaronswhohadgoneintotrade。Otherswerestillruinous，andtherewasnowandthensuchameregraysnagthatMarch，atsightofit，involuntarilyputhistonguetothebrokentoothwhichhewaskeepingfortheskillofthefirstAmericandentist。
　　FornaturalsublimitytheRhinescenery，astheyrecognizedoncemore，doesnotcomparewiththeHudsonscenery；andtheyrecalledonepointontheAmericanriverwheretheCentralRoadtunnelsajuttingcliff，whichmightverywellpassfortherockoftheLoreley，whereshedreamsSolesittingbytheshoresofoldromance。
　　andthetrainsruninandoutunderherkneesunheeded。“Still，stillyouknow。”Marchargued，“thisistheLoreleyontheRhine，andnottheLoreleyontheHudson；andIsupposethatmakesallthedifference。
　　Besides，theRhinedoesn’tsetuptobesublime；itonlymeanstobestoriedanddreamyandromanticanditdoesit。AndthenwehavereallygotnoMouseTower；wemightbuildone，tobesure。”
　　“Well，wehavegotnodenkmal，either。”saidhiswife，meaningthenationalmonumenttotheGermanreconquestoftheRhine，whichtheyhadjustpassed，“andthatissomethinginourfavor。”
　　“Itwastoofaroffforustoseehowuglyitwas。”hereturned。
　　“ThedenkmalatCoblenzwassonearthatthebronzeEmperoralmostrodeaboardtheboat。”
　　Hecouldnotanswersuchapieceoflogicasthat。Heyielded，andbegantopraisetheorchardedlevelswhichnowreplacedthevine-purpledslopesoftheupperriver。Hesaidtheyputhiminmindoforchardsthathehadknowninhisboyhood；andthey，agreedthatthesupremecharmoftravel，afterall，wasnotinseeingsomethingnewandstrange，butinfindingsomethingfamiliaranddearintheheartofthestrangeness。
　　AtColognetheyfoundthisinthetumultofgettingashorewiththeirbaggageanddrivingfromthesteamboatlandingtotherailroadstation，wheretheyweretogettheirtrainforDusseldorfanhourlater。Thestationswarmedwithtravellerseatinganddrinkingandsmoking；buttheyescapedfromitforaprecioushalfoftheirgoldenhour，andgavethetimetothegreatcathedral，whichwasbuilt，athousandyearsago，justroundthecornerfromthestation，andisthereforeveryhandytoit。
　　Sincetheysawthecathedrallastithadbeenfinished，andnowunderacloudlesseveningsky，itsoaredandsweptupwardlikeapaleflame。