ut the Grand Duke never could honour us
with his presence, as every one in town would have felt cheated if he
had.

The shopping in Darmstadt was really quite remarkable. We always thought
it an excellent thing that after eleven o'clock in the morning not a
scrap of meat was visible in the white-tiled butcher shops, everything
being put away on ice.

Food is taken very seriously, of course, and asparagus is honoured above
any other vegetable by having its own subscription season. That is, you
subscribe at the beginning of the season, so much a day, and asparagus
is delivered to you daily while it lasts at that price, the sum not
varying with the fluctuations of the market.

The old market place was a delight on full market days. The grumpy old
women would sit in the middle of their piles of fruit and vegetables,
while you threaded your way along the uneven cobblestone lanes they had
left in between their stalls. Brilliant awning umbrellas have been
adopted and glow in the sun, against the darkly moist, old walls of the
frowning castle just behind. The old Dames call out to you, "Well,
Madamsche', nothing from me today? Aren't my things good enough for
you?" "Madamsche'" is a left-over from ancient French times, and the
final "n" is left off, as are all "n's" in Hessen dialect.

This dialect also lacks "r's." They tell a tale of the Railroad
conductors calling out "Station Daaaaamstadt!" so loudly and
persistently as to annoy Grand Ducal ears, and they were ordered to pay
more attention to their "r's." Now they call out in a superior tone
"Starrrr-rtion--Damstadt!" and feel sure every one is satisfied.

We had exceptional opportunities of knowing Germans of all classes, from
the cleaning women in the theatre to royalty. The military types are
most varied, ranging from the Prussian Junker to the _gemuetlicher
Bayer_, with his easy South German ways. We met many officers and their
families, both in Metz and Darmstadt. In Metz, during the last year, we
grew to know and be fond of a young Bavarian lieutenant. With him we
drove and picnicked in the lovely Metz country. It was early spring, and
we would take the train to some little village near by, and have our tea
in the woods or at one of the thousands of _Gasthaeuse_ that dot Germany.
I remember one Sunday afternoon in a still, steep-sided ravine, the
walls of it rising sharply on either side, thickly wooded with giant
beeches; the sun-flecked grass aquiver with myria