ty smell of cheese, that goes up to heaven.
If the eating of cheese were a religious act, and its odor an incense, I
could not say enough of the devoutness of the Bavarians.

Of the picturesqueness and oddity of the Bavarian peasants' costumes,
nothing but a picture can give you any idea. You can imagine the men in
tight breeches, buttoned below the knee, jackets of the jockey cut,
and both jacket and waistcoat covered with big metal buttons, sometimes
coins, as thickly as can be sewed on: but the women defy the pen; a
Bavarian peasant woman, in holiday dress, is the most fearfully and
wonderfully made object in the universe. She displays a good length of
striped stockings, and wears thin slippers, or sandals; her skirts are
like a hogshead in size and shape, and reach so near her shoulders as to
make her appear hump-backed; the sleeves are hugely swelled out at
the shoulder, and taper to the wrist; the bodice is a stiff and
most elaborately ornamented piece of armor; and there is a kind of
breastplate, or center-piece, of gold, silver, and precious stones,
or what passes for them; and the head is adorned with some monstrous
heirloom, of finely worked gold or silver, or a tower, gilded and
shining with long streamers, or bound in a simple black turban, with
flowing ends. Little old girls, dressed like their mothers, have the air
of creations of the fancy, who have walked out of a fairy-book. There
is an endless variety in these old costumes; and one sees, every moment,
one more preposterous than the preceding. The girls from the Tyrol, with
their bright neckerchiefs and pointed black felt hats, with gold cord
and tassels, are some of them very pretty: but one looks a long time
for a bright face among the other class; and, when it is discovered, the
owner appears like a maiden who was enchanted a hundred years ago, and
has not been released from the spell, but is still doomed to wear the
garments and the ornaments that should long ago have mouldered away with
her ancestors.

The Theresien Wiese was a city of Vanity Fair for two weeks, every
day crowded with a motley throng. Booths, and even structures of some
solidity, rose on it as if by magic. The lottery-houses were set up
early, and, to the last, attracted crowds, who could not resist the
tempting display of goods and trinkets, which might be won by investing
six kreuzers in a bit of paper, which might, when unrolled, contain a
number. These lotteries are all author