and they were conspiring to kill him and the two passengers and
seize it.--M.T.

AT THE APPETITE-CURE

This establishment's name is Hochberghaus. It is in Bohemia, a short
day's journey from Vienna, and being in the Austrian Empire is of course
a health resort. The empire is made up of health resorts; it distributes
health to the whole world. Its waters are all medicinal. They are
bottled and sent throughout the earth; the natives themselves drink
beer. This is self-sacrifice apparently--but outlanders who have drunk
Vienna beer have another idea about it. Particularly the Pilsner
which one gets in a small cellar up an obscure back lane in the First
Bezirk--the name has escaped me, but the place is easily found: You
inquire for the Greek church; and when you get to it, go right along
by--the next house is that little beer-mill. It is remote from all
traffic and all noise; it is always Sunday there. There are two small
rooms, with low ceilings supported by massive arches; the arches and
ceilings are whitewashed, otherwise the rooms would pass for cells in
the dungeons of a bastile. The furniture is plain and cheap, there is no
ornamentation anywhere; yet it is a heaven for the self-sacrificers, for
the beer there is incomparable; there is nothing like it elsewhere in
the world. In the first room you will find twelve or fifteen ladies and
gentlemen of civilian quality; in the other one a dozen generals and
ambassadors. One may live in Vienna many months and not hear of this
place; but having once heard of it and sampled it, the sampler will
afterward infest it.

However, this is all incidental--a mere passing note of gratitude for
blessings received--it has nothing to do with my subject. My subject
is health resorts. All unhealthy people ought to domicile themselves in
Vienna, and use that as a base, making flights from time to time to the
outlying resorts, according to need. A flight to Marienbad to get rid
of fat; a flight to Carlsbad to get rid of rheumatism; a flight to
Kalteneutgeben to take the water cure and get rid of the rest of the
diseases. It is all so handy. You can stand in Vienna and toss a biscuit
into Kaltenleutgeben, with a twelve-inch gun. You can run out thither at
any time of the day; you go by phenomenally slow trains, and yet inside
of an hour you have exchanged the glare and swelter of the city for
wooded hills, and shady forest paths, and soft cool airs, and the music
of birds, and th