position of the main figure. The face of the Martyr Saint is particularly fine; and, in order to aid the effect, the exhibitor produces a wooden machine, through which you look at the picture, stooping so that your own head is in nearly the same position as that of the Apostle; and thereby hangs a tale. My uncle had scarcely adjusted himself in the required attitude, and taken a glimpse at the painting, when he abruptly rose upright, muttering, in an under-tone, "That's done it at last, all my blood's gone to my head!" and withal walked off, and seated himself on a chair in the aisle, where he remained for some minutes, with his eyes closed, perfectly motionless and silent. As usual in such cases, we allowed the circumstance to pass unnoticed; and by and by, as I anticipated, two or three experimental hems, followed by a sonorous blowing of his nose, announced that our Hypochondriac had come, of his own accord, to himself. In fact, he soon stood again beside us, and pulling his hand from his pocket, presented a handsome gratuity to our attendant. "There, Mister, it's no doubt a very fine painting, though to my mind rather an uncomfortable object; as for that wooden invention," at the same time saluting it with a hearty kick, to the utter astonishment of our little Sacristan, "it ought to be indicted; it's nothing more or less, sir, than a trap for the apoplexy!" After this characteristic exhibition, we parted, my uncle preferring to return to the hotel, and leaving me to visit and report on the other sights of Cologne. Amongst the rest was the Masquerade Room, devoted to the Carnival balls. It is a fine room as to size, and supported in the middle by columns, intended to represent huge champagne glasses, whence the painted characters and groups which cover the walls and ceiling are supposed to effervesce. The idea, however, is better than the execution, the intent surpasses the deed. The designs display a good deal of dull pantomime and trite allegory, such as a heart put up to auction, and the like. But the Germans, even of Cologne, on the strength of a Roman origin, ought not to attempt a Carnival. The Italian genius and the Teutonic are widely asunder, as different as macaroni and sausage. Polichinello is quite another being to Hans Wurst: he is as puff-paste to solid pudding. The national spirit is not sufficiently volatile, airy, or mercurial. The wit of the Germans is not feather-heeled; their humor is somewhat sedate. The serious fantastic, the grave grotesque, is their forte, rather than the comic. In short, their animal spirits, like their animal frames, are somewhat solid; and I could not help fancying that the frolics of their Saturnalia must resemble the ponderous fun described by Milton: "The unwieldy Elephant, To make them mirth used all his might, and wreathed In my way homeward I was struck by a voice that seemed familiar to my ear, and looking in at a shop-door I saw what would be a subject for a picture of domestic interest. On one side of the counter stood my aunt, looking wonderfully blank and discomposed; on the other was a grave, broad-faced German, with his shoulders up to his ears, his eyebrows up to his crown, and the corners of his mouth down to his chin. On the counter itself, nearest my aunt, lay a small parcel of her purchases, with a sovereign intended to pay for them, while, next to the opposite party, were arranged three or four Prussian dollars and some smaller coins; the difficulty, whatever it might be, had evidently come to a dead-lock. My aunt cast her eyes upward, as if the case was beyond mortal arrangement. The shopkeeper gravely shook his head, and had re one course to his snuff-box. A glance towards your humble servant made my aunt look in the same direction, and in an instant I was clutched by the arm and hauled into the shop. "I'm so glad you 're come, Frank; I was never so served in my life." And hastily gathering up the Prussian dollars, she banged them singly down again, each after each, on the counter, with a vehemence little in keeping with her character. There," said she, when the operation was finished, can't be deceived in that; there's no more ring in them than in so many leaden dumps.” Of course, I guessed the matter at a glance, but having met with somebody who could understand her language, my aunt was more disposed to talk than to listen. “But, my dear aunt, it's the case with all the currency." "I know it is, I have rung the small pieces too, and they're no better than brass farthings. Mr. Grundy was quite right; they all cheat the English if they can." "Pooh, pooh, it's the proper currency of the country.' "Nonsense, Frank! look here, they're only washed over like bad sixpences; anybody can see that! The man must have taken me for a perfect fool." All this time the German had kept looking alternately in our faces as each happened to be talking, but he now inquired if I could speak his language; and, without waiting my answer, began anxiously explaining his own share in the transaction. The change, he said, was correct, he had counted it ten times over with the lady, but still she was dissatisfied; and as for the money, it was the standard coin of the country. All of which I duly interpreted to my aunt, who, at last, was prevailed upon to exchange her good sovereign for the bad dollars; and catching up her purchases she departed, compelled but unconvinced. Her secret opinion, indeed, transpired as she stepped from the threshold: "Well, I must say, Frank, it's the first time I ever heard of a King being a common coiner of bad money, and what 's worse, obliging all his own subjects to pass it off!” By a curious coincidence, on entering the hotel, we found my uncle engaged in precisely similar speculations." Here, Frank,” said he, holding out to me a small document, "look at that. Talk of rag-money! I wish old Cobbett was alive again, or that his ghost would come up the river Rhine, just to hear what he'd say on the subject. Why, here 's Mercury, and the Royal Arms, and the Spread Eagle, and Hercules, and all sorts of engine-turning, and filagree-work, and crinkumcrankums, and the value in three different languages, French, English, and High Dutch, and after all it's nothing but a three-shilling note!" "It's about as good as their German silver," murmured my aunt, as if talking to herself. " At least the Prussian money," said I, "has one convenience?" "And what's that?" asked my aunt, rather tartly; "it's both bad and heavy, as I know by my bag." "I alluded," said I, "to its almost infinite subdivision; no small consideration to your amateurs of cheap charity. In England, for instance, there are plenty of professedly benevolent persons who would, no doubt, contribute their 'mite,' as it is called, to any charitable object, provided there were any real coin of that denomination." "Cologne swarms with objects, sure enough," said my good aunt, with a very sincere sigh for the multitudinous miseries she was unable to relieve. "You have the comfort," said I, "my dear aunt, that with twelve pfennings to a groschen, you may give to nine beggars out of the dozen at the cost of an English penny." Of course this was only banter, but the subject set me thinking of the comparative misery of being poor in a rich country. For example, to give a pauper in England a farthing, which in Germany would purchase something, is literally to give him nothing at all. I am not aware of any article to be obtained at the price; what used to be, and is called a farthing candle, fetches a halfpenny. Still, I am not quite convinced but that the cheapest country may prove generally the dearest one; the difficulty of spending money alone must not be taken into account, but also the difficulty of obtaining it. Hence, it seems to me that the real dearness or cheapness of a country can only be properly weighed by a native. But I am no political economist; and besides, I think it as well to defer my local conclusions till I have had some experience of the premises. So, lest you should think my letter as long as an Eau de Cologne bottle without its spirit, I shall here close. The verses are for Emily, the sketch for yourself, with all loving remembrances from, bear Gerard, yours ever truly, FRANK SOMERville. TO * WITH A FLASK OF RHINE WATER. THE old Catholic City was still, And, methought, as I gazed on its shine, Surely, that is the Eau de Cologne ! " I inquired not the place of its source, TO MISS WILMOT. MY DEAR Margaret, Since my last, we have passed from Holland into Prussia, but, alas! a change of country has only brought a change of troubles. As I foretold, there was a plot against the Dutch linen, which, by my brother's and nephew's contrivance, was 1 |