, the plays of Paris, the musty romance of old Wien,
he always comes back anon to such ease as a man may find in his inn.
"The stomach of Vienna," he says, "first interested me, not its soul."
And so, after a dutiful genuflexion to St. Stephen's ("Old Steffel," as
the Viennese call it), he proceeds to investigate the paprika-chicken,
the _Gulyas_, the _Risi-bisi_, the _Apfelstrudel_, the _Kaiserschmarrn_
and the native and authentic _Wienerschnitzel_. And from food to
drink--specifically, to the haunts of Pilsner, to "certain semi-sacred
houses where the ritual of beer-drinking is observed," to the shrines at
which beer maniacs meet, to "a little old house near a Greek church"
where "the best-kept Pilsner in Vienna may be found."

The best-kept Pilsner in Vienna! The phrase enchants like an entrance of
the horns. The best caviare in Russia, the worst actor on Broadway, the
most virtuous angel in Heaven! Such superlatives are transcendental. And
yet,--so rare is perfection in this world!--the news swiftly follows,
unexpected, disconcerting, that the best Pilsner in Vienna is far short
of the ideal. For some undetermined reason--the influence of the
American tourist? the decay of the Austrian national character?--the
Vienna _Bierwirte_ freeze and paralyze it with too much ice, so that it
chills the nerves it should caress, and fills the heart below with
heaviness and repining. Avoid Vienna, says Huneker, if you are one who
understands and venerates the great Bohemian brew! And if, deluded, you
find yourself there, take the first _D-zug_ for Prague, that lovely
city, for in it you will find the Pilsen _Urquell_, and in the Pilsen
_Urquell_ you will find the best Pilsner in Christendom--its colour a
phosphorescent, translucent, golden yellow, its foam like whipped cream,
its temperature exactly and invariably right. Not even at Pilsen itself
(which the Bohemians call Plezen) is the emperor of malt liquors more
stupendously grateful to the palate. Write it down before you forget:
the Pilsen _Urquell_, Prague, Bohemia, 120 miles S. S. E. of Dresden, on
the river Moldau (which the natives call the Vitava). Ask for Fraeulein
Ottilie. Mention the name of Herr Huneker, the American
_Schriftsteller_.

Of all the eminent and noble cities between the Alleghenies and the
Balkans, Prague seems to be Huneker's favourite. He calls it poetic,
precious, delectable, original, dramatic--a long string of adjectives,
each argued for with elo