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Schneckenburger can scarcely be called a poet, for these verses are probably the only ones of any account he ever wrote—at least, no others have been preserved—and they came from his pen at the age of twenty-one. Nine years later, in 1849, he died, having become established as a small merchant, after several years’ experience as a commercial traveller. From the accounts given of him by his widow, the distinctive feature of his character was patriotic fervor, which found its earliest expression in his choice of a motto, “Deutsch,” in his school-boy days, and later in the sentiments of “Die Wacht am Rhein.” The ever-active discussion in our camp, whether the extraordinary popularity of the patriotic song is due to the verses or to the music, is hereby passed on for final settlement to the readers of this narrative. We never could agree about it.

Hut for duck shooting

Neidingen.

As it was already late when we reached Tuttlingen, we proposed to hurry our dinner so as to have plenty of daylight to shoot the great weir which filled the air with its roaring. But the deliberate ways of German landlords are not easily changed, and we only succeeded in getting off in the late twilight. With some misgivings we paddled out into mid-stream, towards the sound of the falling water, between the two great bridges. The fame of our expedition