DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62134#0034
26
AN ART-STUDENT IN MUNICH.
larks., we pursued our way. And now we were in a birch-
wood ; heath was in crimson bloom in the open parts of the
wood; soft elastic moss beneath the trees ; here and there
a group of birches gleaming out like trees of silver• and
sprinkled over a steep, mossy bank shining out among
those red fallen birch-leaves, what can be those myriads
of azure stars ! blue hepaticas ! our dear old English garden
hepaticas ! In myriads they rose from the mossy ground,
staring up through the grey, leafless branches of the
birch-trees, with wide open blue eyes, into a heaven as
deeply blue. How lovely they are, and the whole
woods are now brilliant with them ! I shall love my
blue hepaticas as Wordsworth loved his host of “Golden
Daffodils. ”
The Baron and Signor L. were deep in a discussion
about “ high pressure,” and about “ what the Englishman
had said on the subject;” and when I held up in triumph
my handful of flowers, I fancy they thought me rather
gone out of my mind.
And now, though we were in the midst of the wood,
and close upon the steep bank of the river, we came upon
a large house, or rather a group of buildings; one very
like a quaint chapel. This was another Wirthshaus, with
scores of benches and tables placed beneath the trees, with
a pavilion for dancing, with rows of old-fashioned summer-
houses, or rather booths, along the edge of the river-bank
for the distance of some hundred yards. The ground was
undulating and very sylvan. Baron H. said that last May
he witnessed a village fete here, which produced a capital
effect among the trees ; all was dancing, music, beer drink-
ing, shooting, that day; now all was silent as death, or
rather sleep,—a most peaceful sleep. The sun showered
down beams as warm as in an English June. We were
soon seated at a little table on the very edge of the steep
AN ART-STUDENT IN MUNICH.
larks., we pursued our way. And now we were in a birch-
wood ; heath was in crimson bloom in the open parts of the
wood; soft elastic moss beneath the trees ; here and there
a group of birches gleaming out like trees of silver• and
sprinkled over a steep, mossy bank shining out among
those red fallen birch-leaves, what can be those myriads
of azure stars ! blue hepaticas ! our dear old English garden
hepaticas ! In myriads they rose from the mossy ground,
staring up through the grey, leafless branches of the
birch-trees, with wide open blue eyes, into a heaven as
deeply blue. How lovely they are, and the whole
woods are now brilliant with them ! I shall love my
blue hepaticas as Wordsworth loved his host of “Golden
Daffodils. ”
The Baron and Signor L. were deep in a discussion
about “ high pressure,” and about “ what the Englishman
had said on the subject;” and when I held up in triumph
my handful of flowers, I fancy they thought me rather
gone out of my mind.
And now, though we were in the midst of the wood,
and close upon the steep bank of the river, we came upon
a large house, or rather a group of buildings; one very
like a quaint chapel. This was another Wirthshaus, with
scores of benches and tables placed beneath the trees, with
a pavilion for dancing, with rows of old-fashioned summer-
houses, or rather booths, along the edge of the river-bank
for the distance of some hundred yards. The ground was
undulating and very sylvan. Baron H. said that last May
he witnessed a village fete here, which produced a capital
effect among the trees ; all was dancing, music, beer drink-
ing, shooting, that day; now all was silent as death, or
rather sleep,—a most peaceful sleep. The sun showered
down beams as warm as in an English June. We were
soon seated at a little table on the very edge of the steep