ur and glory of their _Verein_; and you find that
they are the gymnasts or the fire brigade, or the architects or what
not of an adjacent town, and that once a year they make an excursion
together, beginning with a walk or a journey by rail or by steamer,
and culminating in a restaurant where they dine and drink and
speechify. Every age, every trade, and every pastime has its _Verein_
and its anniversary rites. I was much amused and puzzled in Berlin one
afternoon by a procession that filed slowly past the tram in which I
sat, and was preceded and attended by such a rabble of sightseers that
the ordinary traffic was stopped for a time. I thought at first it was
a demonstration in connection with temperance or teetotalism, because
there were so many broad blue ribbons about, and I was surprised,
because I know that Germans club together to drink beer and not to
abstain from it, and that they are a sober nation. At the head of the
procession came a string of boys on bicycles, each boy carrying a
banner. Then came four open carriages garlanded with flowers. There
was a garland round each wheel, as well as round the horses' necks and
the coachmen's hats, and anywhere else where a garland would rest. In
each carriage sat four damsels robed in white, and they wore garlands
instead of hats. After them walked a large, stout, red-faced man in
evening dress, and he carried a staff. After him walked the music, men
puffing and blowing into brass instruments, and, like their leader,
wearing evening dress and silk hats. They were followed by a
procession that seemed as if it would stretch to the moon, a
procession of elderly, portly men all wearing evening dress, all
wearing broad blue ribbons and embroidered scarves, and all marching
with banners bearing various devices. The favourite device was _Heil
Gambrinus_, and when I saw that I knew that the blue ribbons had
nothing to do with total abstention. The next banner explained things.
It was the _Verein_ of the _Schenkwirte_ of Berlin,--the publicans, in
fact, of Berlin having their little holiday.

All through the summer the German nation amuses itself out of doors,
and leads an outdoor life to an extent unknown and impossible in our
damp climate. A house that has a garden nearly always has a garden
room where all meals are served. Sometimes it is a detached summer
house, but more often it opens from the house and is really a big
verandah with a roof and sides of glass. In country