After a refreshing
halt, three boats were hired. On their passage to the river, they
encountered a procession of monks headed by the Archbishop of Andernach,
bearing a small figure of Christ carved in blackthorn and varnished: said
to work miracles, and a present to the good town from two Hungarian
pilgrims.
'Are ye for Cologne?' the monks inquired of them.
'Direct down stream!' they answered.
'Send, then, hither to us Gregory, the conqueror of Darkness, that he may
know there is gratitude on earth and gratulation for great deeds,' said
the monks.
So with genuflexions the travellers proceeded, and entered the boats by
the Archbishop's White Tower. Hammerstein Castle and Rheineck they
floated under; Salzig and the Ahr confluence; Rolandseck and Nonnenwerth;
Drachenfels and Bonn; hills green with young vines; dells waving fresh
foliage. Margarita sang as they floated. Ancient ballads she sang that
made the Goshawk sigh for home, and affected the Club with delirious love
for the grand old water that was speeding them onward.
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