parterre, all the rippling flow of
stream and fountain, have been just as artistically devised, and as much
"got up," as the transparencies or the Tyrolese singers, the fireworks
or the fancy fair, or any other of those ingenious "spectacles" which
amuse the grown children of fashion. The few who yet linger seem to have
undergone a strange transmutation.

The smiling landlord of the "Adler" we refer particularly to Germany
as the very land of watering-places is a half-sulky, farmer-looking
personage, busily engaged in storing up his Indian corn and his firewood
and his forage, against the season of snows. The bland "croupier," on
whose impassive countenance no shade of fortune was able to mark even
a passing emotion, is now seen higgling with a peasant for a sack of
charcoal, in all the eagerness of avarice. The trim maiden, whose golden
locks and soft blue eyes made the bouquets she sold seem fairer to look
on, is a stout wench, whose uncouth fur cap and wooden shoes are the
very antidotes to romance. All the transformations take the same sad
colors. It is a pantomime read backwards.

Such was Baden-Baden in the November of 182-. Some weeks of bad and
broken weather had scattered and dispersed all the gay company. The
hotels and assembly-rooms were closed for the winter. The ball-room,
which so lately was alight with a thousand tapers, was now barricaded
like a jail. The very post-office, around which each morning an eager
and pressing crowd used to gather, was shut up, one small aperture alone
remaining, as if to show to what a fraction all correspondence had been
reduced. The Hotel de Russie was the only house open in the little town;
but although the door lay ajar, no busy throng of waiters, no lamps,
invited the traveller to believe a hospitable reception might await him
within. A very brief glance inside would soon have dispelled any such
illusion, had it ever existed. The wide staircase, formerly lined with
orange-trees and camellias, was stripped of all its bright foliage;
the marble statues were removed; the great thermometer, whose crystal
decorations had arrested many a passing look, was now encased within a
wooden box, as if its tell-tale face might reveal unpleasant truths, if
left exposed.

The spacious "Saal," where some eighty guests assembled every day, was
denuded of all its furniture, mirrors, and lustres; bronzes and pictures
were gone, and nothing remained but a huge earthenware stove,
within who