The air was deliciously soft;--of that softness which produces no sensation either of warmth or cold, but which just seems to touch one with loving tenderness, as though the unseen spirits of the air kissed one's forehead as they passed on their wings.

The Rhine was running at her feet, so near, that in the soft half light it seemed as though she might step into its ripple.

The Rhine was running by with that delicious sound of rapidly moving waters, that fresh refreshing gurgle of the river, which is so delicious to the ear at all times.

If you be talking, it wraps up your speech, keeping it for yourselves, making it difficult neither to her who listens nor to him who speaks.

If you would sleep, it is of all lullabies the sweetest.
If you are alone and would think, it aids all your thoughts.