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“Oh!” exclaimed Samuel in a passionate tone, pressing his right hand on his heart, and looking with all the tenderness he could assume at the young lady, —“Oh! that indeed is a face whose delicacy is better fitted to receive the gales of Eden, than the fumes of tobacco /* “Did you never smoke yourself?” asked the Fräulein, in her pretty broken English. “NEveR l’” said Samuel, with as much solemn earnestness as if he had been disclaiming a murder. “Never! — and so help me God! I never will !” . . The Fräulein dropped the cloth she was embroidering, and stared at the speaker till her light blue eyes seemed to dilate to twice their natural size. But she did not utter a word. “No l’’ resumed Samuel, with increasing energy; “this mouth was never contaminated with pipe-clay, and never shall be . Never will I fumigate the woman I love with sighs that make her turn her head right round with disgust 1” “Do you tink to smoke is so bad?” inquired the Fräulein, with all the innocent simplicity of a child. “Bad l’” echoed Samuel. “I think it a vile, abominable, filthy, dirty practicel — Don't you?” “I never tink of de matter at all, one way or anoder,” replied the placid Fräulein. “But you consider it a hateful, loathsome, nasty habit?” “Habit? O no l For de Germans to smoke is so natural as to eat, as to drink, as to sleep !” “At least,” said Samuel, now getting desperately alarmed, “you would not allow a smoker to approach very near your person; for instance, to whisper to you, much less to — to — to embrace you, or offer you a salute?” “Why for not?” inquired the lovely Fräulein, with unusual vivacity. “I have been so accustomed to since I was borned. When I was one leetle child — a bibi — mine dear fader did smoke whiles he holded me on his two knees. Mine dear broder did take his pipe from out his mouth to give me one kiss. Mine cousin, Albrecht, — do you see dis piece of work I am making?” and she held up the embroidered cloth ; “dis shall be one tobacco-bag for mine good cousin l’” “Is it possible?” exclaimed Samuel, his voice quivering with agitation, —“born in smoke nursed in smoke bred in smoke l’”

“It is all so, everywhere,” said the quiet Fräulein.

“Once more l’ cried the trembling Samuel. “Excuse me, but if I may ask, would you bestow your hand—your heart — your lovely person, on — on — on — on a fellow that

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“I am verlobt,” murmured the pretty Fräulein, blushing and casting down her light blue eyes. “That means to say I am one half married, to my cousin Albrecht.” •

“Betrothed, I suppose,” muttered the disappointed Samuel. “And—and other German young ladies?” he asked in a croaking voice, —“are they of the same opinions?— the same tolerant opinions as to smoking?”

“Jawohl l—yes, certainly, - so I believe.”

Poor Samuel could bear no more. Taking a hurried leave of the adorable Fräulein, he jumped up from his chair, dashed along the Allée, climbed the hill, plunged into the woods, and never halted till he was stopped by the stream. Then taking a hasty glance around to make sure that he was alone, he plucked the fatal book from his pocket, and repeated aloud the following passage : e- “Could these young men be fully aware of the effect this habit produces on their charming countrywomen, I am greatly tempted to believe that it would soon get out of fashion.” The next moment the leaf he had been reading from was plucked out, torn into a hundred fragments and scattered to the winds. Another, and another, and another, followed, till the whole volume was completely gutted; and then, with an oath too dreadful to be repeated, he tossed the empty cover into the Schwalbach | In five days afterwards, Mr. Samuel Brown was back in his old chambers in the Adelphi, and in five more he had engaged a housekeeper and set in for an old bachelor.

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AT Schwalbach I dined with a solitary companion, who was carried into the room, like a child, and seated at the table. By his physiognomy he was a Jew, and in spite of his helpless, crippled condition, so good-humored and so cheerful, that I felt a blush of self-reproach and shame to think that, with good health and the use of all my limbs, I could be accessible to spleen or impatience. Ere re-entering the coach, which by rights should carry no outside passengers, I saw our merry Cripple carried up a ladder and deposited in a low chair of peculiar construction, which was fastened on the roof, and not a few jokes were bandied between him and the spectators on his unusual elevation. As soon as he was secured, the little, fat postilion raised his horn with its huge tassels to his lips, and after blowing till his red face turned purple and the whites of his eyes to pink, there came out of the tube a squeak so thin, so poor, and so pig-like, that I involuntarily looked round for the Schwein General, his huge whip, and its victim. Few persons would believe, on hearsay, from such an instrument, that the Germans are a musical people, or that there is a royal prize or pool of a silver watch, or the like, for the performer who “plays the best trump.” To hear a postilion taking advantage of the long Rhine Bridge, where, by law, he must walk his horses, to play a solo on this impracticable instrument to the mocking echoes from the neighboring moun

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tains, you not only think that he must be a crazy Fanatico in music, but that his trumpet is cracked too. Q. Our postilion, however, whatever his merits on the horn, was a good, kind-hearted fellow, and paid great attention to his paralyzed passenger, repeatedly turning round in the saddle to point out to him what was worthy of notice on the road: at last, with a very justifiable pride in his country, he fairly pulled up on the summit of a hill called the Hohe Wurzel, which I presume to translate the Turnip Top, — commanding a superb view over the Rheingau, in all the glory of its autumnal coloring, and, like other beauties, greatly enhanced by its meandering blue veins, the Rhine and the Maine. I will only say of the view, that five minutes of it justified the whole tediousness of the journey. It was still glowing in my mind's eye when we entered Wiesbaden, where we suddenly passed under an archway, like those that admit you into the yard of some of our London inns. I was struck, on turning into the gateway, by the very hilarious faces of the bystanders; and finding, on alighting, a similar circle of grinning men, women, and boys, with their eyes cast upwards to the roof of the coach, I looked in the same direction, and saw our merry Cripple laughing, as heartily as any of them, and re-adjusting himself in his lofty chair. It appeared that his good friend the Postilion, unaccustomed to outside passengers, and doubly engaged in guiding his vehicle into the town, and blowing a flourish on his horn, had totally forgotten his lame charge on the roof, who only saved himself from destruction in the archway by an extraordinary activity in prostration We left the patient Patient at Wiesbaden, most probably to make trial of the baths; and he had so won my heart by his sweet, cheerful resignation, that I could not help wishing an angel might come down and trouble the waters, like those of Bethesda, for his sake. The mere glimpse I had of Wiesbaden produced in me a feeling the reverse of love at first sight. It looked to my taste, too, like an inland Brighton; and I was not sorry to get away from it by even an uninteresting road, lined with fruittrees on each side. It was dusk when I arrived at Frankfort; so, having supped, I booked myself onward, by the night coach. The Prince of Thurm and Taxis, a sort of Postmaster-general, has here his head-quarters, and nothing could be better than his travelling regulations, if they were only enforced. Thus by one article it is forbidden to smoke in the public vehicles, without the consent of the whole company, whereas, instead of regularly publishing the banns between himself and his pipe, I never yet knew a German proceed even so far as the first time of asking. Imagine, then, the discomfort of sitting all night with both windows up, and five smoking, or smoked fellow-travellers in an un-Rumfordized Eilwagen l Nothing, indeed, seems so obnoxious to German lungs as the pure ether, and I can quite believe the story of a Prussian doctor, who recommended to a consumptive countryman to smoke Virginian tobacco instead of the native sort, just as an English physician in the like case would advise a change of air. I suppose it was the effect of the narcotic, but though I certainly breakfasted bodily at Saalmünster, my mind did not properly wake up till we arrived at Fulda, an ecclesiastical city, with a bishop's palace, a cathedral, and a great many beggars. The old religious establishments, like our old Poor Laws, indubitably relieved a great number of mendicants, but made quite as many more, — as witness, Fulda and Cologne. One little beggar had planted himself with his flute by the road-side, and, with a complimentary anticipation of English charity and loyalty, was blowing with all his might at “God Save the King.” And now for a little episode. One of our wheelers chose to run restive, if such a phrase may be applied to standing as stock-still as if you had said “Burr-r-r-r-r-r!” to him; which, by the way, is a full stop to any horse in Germany. The postilion could make nothing of him, for the Germans are peculiarly and praiseworthily tender of their cattle; so out jumped the conducteur, a little, florid, punchy man, and first taking a run backward, made a rush at the obstinate horse, at the same time roaring like a bear. That failing, he tried all the noises of which the human organs are capable; he hooted at the obstinate beast; he howled, growled, hissed, screamed, and grunted at him. He danced at him, anticked at him, shook his fist and his head, and made faces at him. Then he talked to him, and chirped to him. But the horse was not to be bullied or cajoled. So the little man, losing patience, made a kick at him; but owing to the shortness of his own legs, came

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