ver
this inscription:--

"The Sovereign to his People, who at his summons magnanimously poured
forth their Blood and Treasure for the Country. In Memory of the Fallen,
in Gratitude to the Living, as an Incitement to every future Generation."

One is tempted to add, "and of sacred promises still unfulfilled." There
is a beautiful garden and saloon called the Tivoli, close at hand, and
from our heroics we soon slide into the peaceful enjoyment of a "baisser"
and a cup of coffee; lounging luxuriantly among the flowers till the hour
approaches for our departure.

We are a snug little party of a dozen, not including Herr Kupferkram and
the Frau, who will insist upon waiting on us. There is the smug
master-butcher from round the corner, who has a very becoming sense of
his own position in society; two mild-spoken bookseller's clerks, who
scarcely find their voices till the evening is far advanced; my friend
and fellow-tramp the glovemaker; a spruce little model of a man, with the
crispest hair, and the fullest and best trimmed moustache in the world,
and who is no doubt a great man somewhere; a tremendous fellow of a
student, who talks of cannon-boots, rapiers, and Berliner Weiss Bier; and
an individual whose only distinguishing feature is his nose, and that is
an insult to polite society. The rest have no characteristics at all.

But ah! shall I forget thee, the beautiful Louise!--the affianced of
Gottlob, the blonde, the coquettish, and the gay! Have you not asked me,
in half confidence (Alcibiade being present), whether the German
"_geliebte_," is not changed in English into "_susses herz_,"
"sweet-heart," as Gottlob had told you in his last letter from London?
And you think the sentiment "so pretty and poetical!" And so it is; but
we dunderheads in England have used the word so often that we have half
forgotten its meaning.

Down we sit to supper; commencing with a delicate gravy soup and liver
fritters; following up with breaded pork-chops and red saurkraut;
continuing upon baked veal and prunes; not forgetting the _entremets_ of
green pease and finely-sliced carrots stewed in butter together; going on
with a well-made sallad; and winding up with a syllabub and preserves.
Hah! Bread unlimited, and beer without discretion. How can we sing
after all that and yet we do, and talk unceasingly. The tables are
cleared; and, accompanied by a beautiful tinkling of tiny bell-shaped
glasses, the china punch-bowl, odor