Our indifferent eyes looked unmoved on all these nests of human life, after which many an exile's lonely heart may have yearned in vain. At length we slowly emerged from the dark, crooked, compact, old German kernel of the city, into the bright, variegated, gaudy, shell of its suburbs. The pavement grew better, the horses more active, and we soon left the subui'bs for the flat open country. I looked back to old Riga, that now lay far on the horizon, — the houses gradually lost themselves in the morning mist — the gilt cupola of St. Peter's, and the tower of the Domkirche alone remained. At length a low thicket hid these giants — the last traces of Riga were lost, and we were alone in the barren and monotonous wilderness.
I now turned to examine my travelling companions. They consisted of a few students of Dorpat, some inhabitants of St. Petersburg, and two Finland merchants, returning from their travels in Germany. The St. Petersburgers were perfectly silent the whole time, and the students merry and riotous. The merchants related to me many amusmg particulars of the society of the northern towns of Wiborg, Willmanstrand, Helsingfors, and Nystadt. They spoke of Germany with the bitterness of disappointed men. To the inhabitants of the north, Germany is what Italy is to us. They expect every thing, and find of course less than they expect. Experiencing every day the rude ungenial aspect of Nature in their o\^ti country, and hearing constantly of the warm smiling south, they imagine Germany to be the loveliest of countries, with the mildest air, and most dehcious climate. Civilization having advanced but little in their northern latitudes, they imagine the lowest classes even in Germany, perfect in agriculture, education, arts, and sciences. Many imagine that roses gi'ow there in every corner, that every hut is surrounded by beautiful gardens, and hung with creeping vines ; that all fields and forests are in perfect order, and every man, woman, and child, is sensible, honest, faithful, refined, and polite.
Finding among us, on the contrarv, not a few ugly districts, many illkept fields and gardens, and no lack of rogues and blockheads, there is no end to their disappointment.
" Ah!" said a Russian, who had never been in Germanv, to me onco, ' in Russia things are not as in your country, whore tlie daughters of overy mechanic play the piano, where almost every peasant receives a learned education, and where the poorest inhabitant cau converse sensibly of history and politics." " In your happy Germany," said another, " one may indeed live freely. There every one has what he deserves, the poor are fiiithful, free, and incorruptible, and the great, mild, merciful, and unoppressing.
When such enthusiasts come to Germany they are disappointed because every village girl cannot welcome them with the symphonies of Mozart and Beethoven, nor every country schoolboy talk Latin, nor every peasant discuss the career and history of Napoleon, Ca?sar, or Alexander the Great. The disappointed travellers return surly and ill-humoured, cursing the falsehood of all they have heard concerning German refinement, intelligence, and freedom, and having before entertained far too Utopian an idea of us, they revenge themselves by unjust and absurd detraction. This applies not merely to the natives of Esthonia, Livonia, and Finland, but to the Russians, Danes, Swedes, and Norwegians also. Sand, marsh, heath, and forest, followed incessantly by more sand, marsh, heath and forest, form, in monotonous and unbroken order, the dreary road to Dorpat. This is the most barren and ugliest district in Livonia. Behind it lies the fertile shore of the Dwina, to the left the magnificent ocean, and to the right the Livonian paradise, as it is called ; but these were all unseen to us, and contributed nothing towards the enlivening of our journey.
The Livonian paradise lies along the Aa, surrounding the town of Wenden, and the estates of Ki-emon, Trelden, and Segewolde. This fertile district is surrounded by hills, crowned by majestic old oaks and birch-trees. The cheerful little town of Wenden reposes in the valley like a smIHng infant in its cradle ; and the small stream of the Aa sparldes in its windings around the liills.