Scores of little boys of eight or ten are breaking stones by the road-side,
at which I somewhat marvel, since there is a compulsory school law in
Germany; but perhaps to-day is a holiday; or maybe, after school hours,
it is customary for these unhappy youngsters to repair to the road-sides
and blister their hands with cracking flints. "Hungry as a buzz-saw" I
roll into the sleepy old town of Rothenburg at six o'clock, and, repairing
to the principal hotel, order supper. Several flunkeys of different
degrees of usefulness come in and bow obsequiously from time to time,
as I sit around, expecting supper to appear every minute. At seven o'clock
the waiter comes in, bows profoundly, and lays the table-cloth; at 7.15
he appears again, this time with a plate, knife, and fork, doing more
bowing and scraping as he lays them on the table. Another half-hour rolls
by, when, doubtless observing my growing impatience as he happens in at
intervals to close a shutter or re-regulate the gas, he produces a small
illustrated paper, and, bowing profoundly; lays it before me. I feel
very much like making him swallow it, but resigning myself to what appears
to be inevitable fate, I wait and wait, and at precisely 8.15 he produces
a plate of soup; at 8.30 the kalbscotolet is brought on, and at 8.45 a
small plate of mixed biscuits. During the meal I call for another piece
of bread, and behold there is a hurrying to and fro, and a resounding
of feet scurrying along the stone corridors of the rambling old building,
and ten minutes later I receive a small roll. At the opposite end of the
long table upon which I am writing some half-dozen ancient and honorable
Rothenburgers are having what they doubtless consider a "howling time."
Confronting each is a huge tankard of foaming lager, and the one doubtless
enjoying himself the most and making the greatest success of exciting
the envy and admiration of those around him is a certain ponderous
individual who sits from hour to hour in a half comatose condition,
barely keeping a large porcelain pipe from going out, and at fifteen-minute
intervals taking a telling pull at the lager. Were it not for an occasional