ter dark, and as it was hot weather no one went to bed early. Even
in the dead of night the timber waggons drawn by oxen passed through
the town, and the driver did his best to wake us by cracking his long
whip. For though a Black Forest town is mediaeval in its ways, it is
not restful. It may soothe you by suggestion, the people seem so
leisurely and the life so easy going; but there is not an hour in the
twenty-four when you are secure from noise. The Sunday in question
began with the bustle occasioned in a country inn by an unusual strain
on its resources. There must be an extra good dinner for the expected
influx of guests, said the landlord's niece, who kept house for him,
while the wife and daughters ran a second hotel higher up the valley.
We escaped to the forest, where the morning hours of a hot June day
were fresh and scented, and we were sorry we had to return to the
hotel for a long hot midday dinner. When it was over, we sat in the
garden and wondered why people held a festival on the top of a hill on
such a sleepy afternoon. However, when the time came we joined the
leisurely procession making the ascent. An hour's stroll took us to
the concert hall, a forest glade where people sat about in groups
waiting for the music to begin. Barrels of beer had been rolled up
here, and children were selling _Kringel_, crisp twists of bread
sprinkled with salt. There were more children present than adults, and
we observed, as you nearly always will in Germany, that though they
belonged to the poorer classes they wore neat clothes and had quiet,
modest manners. The older people often let them drink out of their
glasses, for it was a thirsty afternoon, and when the singing began
the children joined in some of the songs. The occasion of the festival
was the friendly meeting of several choirs, and they sang fine anthems
as well as _Volkslieder_. The effect of the music in the heart of the
forest was enchanting, and we stayed till the end. These choral
competitions or reunions often take place on a Sunday in Germany, and
in summer are often held in an inn garden. They bring some custom to
the innkeeper, but drunkenness and disorder are almost unknown. In
fact, all the cases of drunkenness I have seen in Germany have been
in the Munich comic papers. You never by any chance hear of it as you
do in England amongst people you know, and you may spend hours at the
Berlin Zoo on a Whit-Monday and see no one who is not sober.
Univers