ht, and smothered with photographs. Possibly, he will
have his outer walls painted by the local artist: a sanguinary battle, a
good deal interfered with by the front door, taking place below, while
Bismarck, as an angel, flutters vaguely about the bedroom windows. But
for his Old Masters he is quite content to go to the public galleries;
and "the Celebrity at Home" not having as yet taken its place amongst the
institutions of the Fatherland, he is not impelled to waste his, money
turning his house into an old curiosity shop.

The German is a gourmand. There are still English farmers who, while
telling you that farming spells starvation, enjoy their seven solid meals
a day. Once a year there comes a week's feast throughout Russia, during
which many deaths occur from the over-eating of pancakes; but this is a
religious festival, and an exception. Taking him all round, the German
as a trencherman stands pre-eminent among the nations of the earth. He
rises early, and while dressing tosses off a few cups of coffee, together
with half a dozen hot buttered rolls. But it is not until ten o'clock
that he sits down to anything that can properly be called a meal. At one
or half-past takes place his chief dinner. Of this he makes a business,
sitting at it for a couple of hours. At four o'clock he goes to the
cafe, and eats cakes and drinks chocolate. The evening he devotes to
eating generally--not a set meal, or rarely, but a series of snacks,--a
bottle of beer and a Belegete-semmel or two at seven, say; another bottle
of beer and an Aufschnitt at the theatre between the acts; a small bottle
of white wine and a Spiegeleier before going home; then a piece of cheese
or sausage, washed down by more beer, previous to turning in for the
night.

But he is no gourmet. French cooks and French prices are not the rule at
his restaurant. His beer or his inexpensive native white wine he prefers
to the most costly clarets or champagnes. And, indeed, it is well for
him he does; for one is inclined to think that every time a French grower
sells a bottle of wine to a German hotel- or shop-keeper, Sedan is
rankling in his mind. It is a foolish revenge, seeing that it is not the
German who as a rule drinks it; the punishment falls upon some innocent
travelling Englishman. Maybe, however, the French dealer remembers also
Waterloo, and feels that in any event he scores.

In Germany expensive entertainments are neither offered nor expe