Linz is a clean and interesting city. Distinguished as the capital of Upper Austria, it is renowned for loyal men and lovely women, and has a history reaching over two millenniums. Bearing the name of Lentium, it was the principal Roman station on the Danube. The rich and fertile plains adjoining it, from which important roads, now railways, branched in all directions, were valued by them highly, and here they drew the boundary line between the two great sections of their province, Noricum. For several centuries Linz proved impregnable, and yielded to barbarians only when the empire tottered to its fall. Walls, castles, towers, bastions, moats, and palisades succeeded one another, therefore, on this southern bank; while at the junction of the river Enns, not far away, the Romans built the famous manufactory which furnished shields for all the legions on this northern frontier. Here, too, were always anchored several vessels of the Roman fleet, which was continually cruising up and down the stream, conveying soldiers, food, and weapons from one station to another, and bringing messages from point to point. Linz was for me an object lesson. For many years, so far as the modern city was concerned, a name upon the map was all that it had meant to me. But on the morning after my arrival, I found here fifty thousand of my fellow-creatures, intelligent, polite, and happy, living and loving, buying and selling, working and worshiping, and evidently proud of their fine country and attractive city, as well as of their friends and families, and possibly of themselves. Lawyers were hurrying to the courts, and merchants to their counting-rooms; patients were on their way to doctors, penitents to priests, children to schools, and soldiers to the drill-ground. When shall I ever learn, I asked myself, that human interests are vaster than our dreams; that Austria is something more than Innsbruck, Carlsbad, and Vienna, as Paris, Nice, and Pau are not the whole of France; that rapid traveling to a few large cities never can reveal the character and soul of any land; that individuals, with their loves, hates, duties, tragedies, and comedies, are as the grains of sand upon the shore; and only as we live among a people can we know them; and that the greatest benefit of travel is the acquisition of a broader knowledge, wider sympathies, and ampler toleration toward all races, colors, customs, and religions?

The Old Cistercian Abbey Of Wilhering, Near Linz.

The Bridge At Linz.

The New Cathedral At Linz.

On my last night in Linz I lingered long upon the silent strand, and watched the mighty river roll away beneath the stars. Upon its storied flood the shadows thrown by bridge and buildings lay like unsolved mysteries. Its broad, unruffled surface, flecked with light and shade, suggested an immense mosaic emblematic of the facts and fables of its history. As I reviewed in memory the scenes which I had witnessed in its course, - its princely cradle, white-walled convents, immemorial forests, towering cliffs, romantic ruins, and,' dominating all, its awe-inspiring Umbra nominis Romani, the grand old river, disappearing in the void of night, seemed more than ever typical of a human life. Because the sun had set upon its ample flood, its course was not completed here. We who had journeyed with, and loved it thus far, lingered for a little on its banks, but the great river made no pause. Our vision failed to follow it beyond the sable curtain that concealed its flight, but its majestic current was continuous. In God's great universe it was as little lost as is the moon between its waning and its reappearance; the sun between the evening and the morning star; the lily between snow and summer; the oak between the falling and the budding leaf. To us who watched it passing into darkness it appeared to end; but it was merely leaving us in temporary gloom, and sweeping onward toward another dawn.

In The Capital Of Upper Austria.

Sweeping Onward toward Another Dawn.

Elizabeth, Empress Of Austria.