om the sinking sun. So he said, and gave his whole soul to
building this graceful capital and developing it with the arts of peace;
for heretofore he had thought only of war, and had meant to patch up a
seat of government in the little town of Durlach.

[Illustration: THE PIPERS.]

The Haardtwald still spreads around Carlsruhe ("Charles's Rest") to the
eastward, but the bracken and underbrush have given way to beaten roads,
which prolong with perfect regularity the fan of streets. An avenue of
the finest Lombardy poplars in Germany, the trees being from ninety to a
hundred and twenty feet high, extends for two miles to Durlach. Around
the city spread rich plum and cherry orchards, yielding the "lucent
sirops" from which is distilled the famous Kirschwasser.

The reputation for drunkenness, in my opinion, has been very erroneously
fastened upon the German population. During my sojourn in Carlsruhe I
have paid many a visit to the beer-shops, from the petty taverns
frequented by the poor to the lofty saloons where Ganymedes in white
skirts shuffled with huge tankards through a perfect forest of orange
trees in tubs; for, worse luck to my morals, I have not seen a single
frightful example, not one individual balancing dispersedly over his
legs. In the grand duchy of Baden the debauch is punished by a law of
somewhat harsh logic, which commits to prison both drunkards and those
who have furnished the wherewithal to excess. The common people form a
nation of drinkers, not drunkards. The beer-tables are usually placed in
the open air, with shelter for the patrons in case of bad weather. The
out-door air is almost indispensable to correct the evils which might
proceed from such an artillery of pipes all fired in concert.

[Illustration: INCENSE AT THE ALTAR.]

For Germany, if not a land of intoxication, is certainly one of
fumigation. The face of a German is composed invariably of the
following features: two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and a pipe. Whichever of
these features is movable, the pipe at least is a fixture. Fortified by
this vital organ, he lives, loves and moves.

EDWARD STRAHAN.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

AUTUMN VOICES.

Seemeth the chorus that greets the ear
A dirge for the dying hours,
That wake no more for the passing year,
Spring's voices of birds and flowers?
Or is it a psalm of love upborne
From this grateful earth of ours?

Unfold us the burden of your song,