r neglect.

So on to Munich, where, during a whole week, I saw but one _Riegelhaube_,
a curious head-dress or chignon-cover of silver thread, once very common.
Even the old Bavarian dialect seemed to have almost vanished, and I was
glad to hear it from our porter. Many old landmarks still existed, but
King Louis no longer ran about the streets--I nearly ran against him
once; people no longer were obliged by law to remove cigars or pipes from
their mouths when passing a sentry-box. Lola Montez had vanished. _Mais
ou sont les neiges d'antan_?

So we went over the Brenner Pass, stopped at Innspruck, and saw the
church described by Heine in his _Reisebilder_, and came to Verona, the
Bern of the _Heldenbuch_. "_Ich will gen Bern ausreiten_, _sprach
Meister Hildebrand_."

It was a happy thought of the Italians to put picturesque Verona down as
the first stopping-place for Northern travellers, and I rather like
Ruskin's idea of buying the town and keeping it intact as a piece of
_bric-a-brac_. He might have proposed Rome while he was about it;
"anything there can be had for money," says Juvenal.

When we arrived at the station I alone was left to encounter the fierce
douaniers. One of them, inquisitive as to tobacco, when I told him I had
none, laid his finger impressively on the mouthpiece of my pipe,
remarking that where the tail of the fox was seen the fox could not be
far off. To which I replied that I indeed had no tobacco, but wanted
some very badly, and that I would be much obliged to him if he would give
me a little to fill my pipe. So all laughed. My wife entering at this
instant, cried in amazement, "Why, Charles! where did you ever learn to
talk Italian?" Which shows that there can be secrets even between
married people; though indeed my Italian has always been of such inferior
quality that it is no wonder that I never boasted of it even in
confidence. It is, in fact, the Hand-organo dialect flavoured with
Florentine.

There was an old lady who stood at the door of a curiosity-shop in
Verona, and she had five pieces of bone-carvings from some old _scatola_
or marriage-casket. She asked a fabulous price for them, and I offered
five francs. She scorned the paltry sum with all the vehemence of a
susceptible soul whose tenderest feelings have been outraged. So I went
my way, but as I passed the place returning, the old lady came forth,
and, graciously courtesying and smiling, held forth to me the earr