ands: there is continually a parade somewhere, and the
streets are full of military music, and finely executed too. Then of
beer-gardens there is literally no end, and there are nightly concerts
in them. There are two brothers Hunn, each with his band, who, like the
ancient Huns, have taken the city; and its gardens are given over to
their unending waltzes, polkas, and opera medleys. Then there is the
church music on Sundays and holidays, which is largely of a military
character; at least, has the aid of drums and trumpets, and the whole
band of brass. For the first few days of our stay here we had rooms near
the Maximilian Platz and the Karl's Thor. I think there was some sort of
a yearly fair in progress, for the great platz was filled with temporary
booths: a circus had set itself up there, and there were innumerable
side-shows and lottery-stands; and I believe that each little shanty
and puppet-show had its band or fraction of a band, for there was never
heard such a tooting and blowing and scraping, such a pounding and
dinning and slang-whanging, since the day of stopping work on the Tower
of Babel. The circus band confined itself mostly to one tune; and as
it went all day long, and late into the night, we got to know it quite
well; at least, the bass notes of it, for the lighter tones came to us
indistinctly. You know that blurt, blurt, thump, thump, dissolute sort
of caravan tune. That was it.

The English Cafe was not far off, and there the Hunns and others also
made night melodious. The whole air was one throb and thrump. The only
refuge from it was to go into one of the gardens, and give yourself over
to one band. And so it was possible to have delightful music, and see
the honest Germans drink beer, and gossip in friendly fellowship and
with occasional hilarity. But music we had, early and late. We expected
quiet in our present quarters. The first morning, at six o'clock, we
were startled by the resonant notes of a military band, that set
the echoes flying between the houses, and a regiment of cavalry went
clanking down the street. But that is a not unwelcome morning serenade
and reveille. Not so agreeable is the young man next door, who gives
hilarious concerts to his friends, and sings and bangs his piano all day
Sunday; nor the screaming young woman opposite. Yet it is something to
be in an atmosphere of music.

THE MILITARY LIFE OF MUNICH

This morning I was awakened early by the strains of a mili