st not go too fast. You must not get in anybody's way with a
perambulator, and if anybody gets in your way you must get out of their
way. If you want to stop with a perambulator, you must go to a place
specially appointed where perambulators may stop; and when you get there
you _must_ stop. You must not cross the road with a perambulator; if you
and the baby happen to live on the other side, that is your fault. You
must not leave your perambulator anywhere, and only in certain places can
you take it with you. I should say that in Germany you could go out with
a perambulator and get into enough trouble in half an hour to last you
for a month. Any young Englishman anxious for a row with the police
could not do better than come over to Germany and bring his perambulator
with him.

In Germany you must not leave your front door unlocked after ten o'clock
at night, and you must not play the piano in your own house after eleven.
In England I have never felt I wanted to play the piano myself, or to
hear anyone else play it, after eleven o'clock at night; but that is a
very different thing to being told that you must not play it. Here, in
Germany, I never feel that I really care for the piano until eleven
o'clock, then I could sit and listen to the "Maiden's Prayer," or the
Overture to "Zampa," with pleasure. To the law-loving German, on the
other hand, music after eleven o'clock at night ceases to be music; it
becomes sin, and as such gives him no satisfaction.

The only individual throughout Germany who ever dreams of taking
liberties with the law is the German student, and he only to a certain
well-defined point. By custom, certain privileges are permitted to him,
but even these are strictly limited and clearly understood. For
instance, the German student may get drunk and fall asleep in the gutter
with no other penalty than that of having the next morning to tip the
policeman who has found him and brought him home. But for this purpose
he must choose the gutters of side-streets. The German student,
conscious of the rapid approach of oblivion, uses all his remaining
energy to get round the corner, where he may collapse without anxiety. In
certain districts he may ring bells. The rent of flats in these
localities is lower than in other quarters of the town; while the
difficulty is further met by each family preparing for itself a secret
code of bell-ringing by means of which it is known whether the summons is
ge