says it is poor sport to
eat your chicken with a knife and fork, because the best part sticks
to the bones. Then her friend stops her from drinking fruit syrup out
of her plate, and her neighbour on the other side, a stout guzzler who
has not been taught by his aunt to eat properly, encourages Gretchen
to drink too much champagne.

After these early adventures the education of the _Backfisch_ proceeds
quickly. She has to learn at her aunt's tea-parties not to fill cups
to overflowing in sheer exuberance of hospitality; and she is also
instructed not to press food on people. "In good society," says the
aunt, "people decline to eat because they have had enough, and not
because they require pressing." She is obliged also to discourage
Gretchen from waiting too attentively on the young men who visit at
the house; and Gretchen, who does not care about young men, but only
yearns to be serviceable, devotes herself in future to the old ladies,
their foot-stools, their knitting, and their smelling bottles. This
touch is one of many that makes the book, in spite of its obvious
shortcomings, valuable as a picture of German character and manner. It
is impossible to imagine Gretchen in a French or English story of the
same class. The French girl would be more adroit and witty; the
English girl would expect young men to wait on her; and neither of
them would gush as Gretchen did about her old ladies. "My readiness to
serve them knew no bounds. To arrange their seats to their liking, to
give them stools for their feet and cushions for their backs, to rush
for their shawls and cloaks, to count the rows in their knitting, to
help them pick up their stitches, to thread their needles, to wind
silk or wool, to peel fruit, to run for smelling bottles and cold
water,--all these things I did with delight the instant my watchful
eye discovered the smallest wish, and I was always cordially thanked."

Tastes differ. Some old ladies would be made quite uncomfortable by
such fussy attentions. The _Backfisch_ goes on to say that she was
equally assiduous in waiting on the old gentlemen. She picked up
anything they dropped, polished their spectacles for them, and
listened to their dull stories when no one else would. I consider the
portrait of Gretchen in this story a literary triumph. I can see the
girl; I can hear her voice and laugh. I know exactly how she behaved
and what the old ladies and gentlemen said to her, how she dressed and
how she d