id, it was eleven o'clock of a clear and not very severe night;
for Munich had had no snow on the ground since November. A deputation of
our friends were at the station to see us off, and the farewells between
the gentlemen were in the hearty fashion of the country. I know there
is a prejudice with us against kissing between men; but it is only a
question of taste: and the experience of anybody will tell him that
the theory that this sort of salutation must necessarily be desirable
between opposite sexes is a delusion. But I suppose it cannot be denied
that kissing between men was invented in Germany before they wore full
beards. Well, our goodbyes said, we climbed into our bare cars. There
is no way of heating the German cars, except by tubes filled with hot
water, which are placed under the feet, and are called foot-warmers. As
we slowly moved out over the plain, we found it was cold; in an hour the
foot-warmers, not hot to start with, were stone cold. You are going to
sunny Italy, our friends had said: as soon as you pass the Brenner you
will have sunshine and delightful weather. This thought consoled us,
but did not warm our feet. The Germans, when they travel by rail, wrap
themselves in furs and carry foot-sacks.

We creaked along, with many stoppings. At two o'clock we were at
Rosenheim. Rosenheim is a windy place, with clear starlight, with a
multitude of cars on a multiplicity of tracks, and a large, lighted
refreshment-room, which has a glowing, jolly stove. We stay there an
hour, toasting by the fire and drinking excellent coffee. Groups of
Germans are seated at tables playing cards, smoking, and taking coffee.
Other trains arrive; and huge men stalk in, from Vienna or Russia, you
would say, enveloped in enormous fur overcoats, reaching to the heels,
and with big fur boots coming above the knees, in which they move like
elephants. Another start, and a cold ride with cooling foot-warmers,
droning on to Kurfstein. It is five o'clock when we reach Kurfstein,
which is also a restaurant, with a hot stove, and more Germans going on
as if it were daytime; but by this time in the morning the coffee had
got to be wretched.

After an hour's waiting, we dream on again, and, before we know it, come
out of our cold doze into the cold dawn. Through the thick frost on
the windows we see the faint outlines of mountains. Scraping away the
incrustation, we find that we are in the Tyrol, high hills on all sides,
no snow in the