isn't every day one _can_ get a cool mug and see the beer drawn fresh
and foaming like that. I felt like a Holbein painting."

Bee, as at Baden-Baden, plaintively gave the attendant a double fee to
show that meanness had not caused my apparently thrifty act. Then for
the first time in our lives we found what fresh beer really meant.

Even Bee and Mrs. Jimmie admitted that it was worth while coming, and
let me record in advance that when we got to Vienna, and they served us
an equally delicious beer in long thin glasses as delicate as an
eggshell, Bee grew so enthusiastic in the process of beer drinking that
Jimmie grew absurdly proud of his pupil, and professed to think that she
was "coming round after all." But Bee declared that it was the thinness
of the glasses which attracted her, and insisted that beer out of a
German stein was like trying to drink over a stone wall.

We went many times after that, generally in the evening, when the
concert was held in a hall which must have contained two thousand
people, even when all seated at little tables, and where the band would
have deafened you if the hall had not been so large. Here Jimmie and the
waitress prevailed upon us to taste the most inhuman dishes with names a
yard long, which the maid declared we would find to be "wunderschoen."

We began in a spirit of adventure, but Jimmie's taste in food is so
depraved that if he followed the precedent all through his life,
Lombroso would class him as a degenerate. As it was, he soon had us
distanced. But we let him eat pickles and cherries and herring and cream
and tripe and garlic and pig's feet all stewed up together, while we
listened to the music, and planned what we would bury him in.

The pictures in Munich we loved. I must say that I enjoy the atmosphere
of the Munich school better than any other. There is a healthiness about
German realism that one is not afraid nor ashamed to admire. French
realism is like a suggestive story, expunged of all but the surface fun
for girls' hearing. You are afraid of the laugh it raises for fear there
is something beneath it all that you don't understand. But the modern
Munich galleries were not the task that picture galleries often are.
They were a sincere delight, and let me pause to say that Munich art was
one thing that we four were unanimous in praising and enjoying as a
happy and united family.

It was here that Jimmie proceeded to go mad over Verboeckhoven's sheep
picture