, and next to them the bakers'. A favorite toy of the
season is a little crib, with the Holy Child, in sugar or wax, lying
in it in the most uncomfortable attitude. Babies here are strapped
upon pillows, or between pillows, and so tied up and wound up that they
cannot move a muscle, except, perhaps, the tongue; and so, exactly like
little mummies, they are carried about the street by the nurses,--poor
little things, packed away so, even in the heat of summer, their little
faces looking out of the down in a most pitiful fashion. The popular toy
is a representation, in sugar or wax, of this period of life. Generally
the toy represents twins, so swathed and bound; and, not infrequently,
the bold conception of the artist carries the point of the humor so
far as to introduce triplets, thus sporting with the most dreadful
possibilities of life.

The German bakers are very ingenious; and if they could be convinced of
this great error, that because things are good separately, they must
be good in combination, the produce of their ovens would be much more
eatable. As it is, they make delicious cake, and of endless variety; but
they also offer us conglomerate formations that may have a scientific
value, but are utterly useless to a stomach not trained in Germany.
Of this sort, for the most part, is the famous Lebkuchen, a sort of
gingerbread manufactured in Nurnberg, and sent all over Germany: "age
does not [seem to] impair, nor custom stale its infinite variety." It is
very different from our simple cake of that name, although it is usually
baked in flat cards. It may contain nuts or fruit, and is spoiled by
a flavor of conflicting spices. I should think it might be sold by the
cord, it is piled up in such quantities; and as it grows old and is much
handled, it acquires that brown, not to say dirty, familiar look, which
may, for aught I know, be one of its chief recommendations. The cake,
however, which prevails at this season of the year comes from the
Tyrol; and as the holidays approach, it is literally piled up on the
fruit-stands. It is called Klatzenbrod, and is not a bread at all, but
and amalgamation of fruits and spices. It is made up into small round or
oblong forms; and the top is ornamented in various patterns, with split
almond meats. The color is a faded black, as if it had been left for
some time in a country store; and the weight is just about that of
pig-iron. I had formed a strong desire, mingled with dread, to t