ed out and
jerked the poor little old man inside, and we heard him say, "But I
was only blaming the French. I ain't happy over here." And a sharp
voice said, "Well, you've said enough. Don't talk any more at all."
Then she let him out again, but he did not find me in the corridor. He
found his open window, and he leaned against our closed door and again
aimed at the flying landscape, as he pondered over the disadvantages
of Europe.

The sun was just rising over the cathedral as we reached Cologne.

"Let's get out here and have our breakfast comfortably, see the
cathedral, and take the next train to Berlin," I said to my companion.

She is the courier and I am the banker. She hastily consulted her
_indicateur_ and assented. We only had about two seconds in which to
decide.

"Let's throw these bags out of the window," she said. "I've seen other
people do it, and the porters catch them."

"Don't _throw_ them," I urged. "You will break my toilet bottles. Poke
them out gently."

She did so, and we hopped off the train just at daybreak, perfectly
delighted at doing something we had not planned.

A more lovely sight than the Cologne cathedral, with the rising sun
gilding its numerous pinnacles and spires, would be difficult to
imagine. The narrow streets were still comparatively dark, and when we
arrived we heard the majestic notes of the organ in a Bach fugue, and
found ourselves at early mass, with rows of humble worshippers
kneeling before the high altar, and the twinkle of many candles in the
soft gloom. As we stood and watched and listened, the smell of incense
floated down to us, and gradually the first rays of the sun crept
downward through the superb colored-glass windows and stained the
marble statues in their niches into gorgeous hues of purple and
scarlet and amber.

And as the priests intoned and the fresh young voices of an invisible
choir floated out and the magnificent rumble of the organ shook the
very foundation of the cathedral, we forgot that we were there to
visit a sight of Cologne, we forgot our night of discomfort, we forgot
everything but the spirit of worship, and we came away without
speaking.

* * * * *

From Cologne to Dresden is stupid. We went through a country
punctuated with myriads of tall chimneys of factories, which reminded
us why so many things in England and America are stamped "Made in
Germany."

We arrived at Dresden at five o'clock, and decid