henian
who should see it into the belief that he was restored to his beautiful
city. The color holds, too, toward sundown, and seems to be poured, like
something solid, into the streets of the city.

You should see then the Maximilian Strasse, when the light floods the
platz where Maximilian in bronze sits in his chair, illuminates the
frescoes on the pediments of the Hof Theater, brightens the Pompeian
red under the colonnade of the post-office, and streams down the gay
thoroughfare to the trees and statues in front of the National Museum,
and into the gold-dusted atmosphere beyond the Isar. The street is
filled with promenaders: strangers who saunter along with the red book
in one hand,--a man and his wife, the woman dragged reluctantly past the
windows of fancy articles, which are "so cheap," the man breaking his
neck to look up at the buildings, especially at the comical heads and
figures in stone that stretch out from the little oriel-windows in the
highest story of the Four Seasons Hotel, and look down upon the moving
throng; Munich bucks in coats of velvet, swinging light canes, and
smoking cigars through long and elaborately carved meerschaum holders;
Munich ladies in dresses of that inconvenient length that neither sweeps
the pavement nor clears it; peasants from the Tyrol, the men in black,
tight breeches, that button from the knee to the ankle, short jackets
and vests set thickly with round silver buttons, and conical hats with
feathers, and the women in short quilted and quilled petticoats, of
barrel-like roundness from the broad hips down, short waists ornamented
with chains and barbarous brooches of white metal, with the oddest
head-gear of gold and silver heirlooms; students with little red or
green embroidered brimless caps, with the ribbon across the breast, a
folded shawl thrown over one shoulder, and the inevitable switch-cane;
porters in red caps, with a coil of twine about the waist; young fellows
from Bohemia, with green coats, or coats trimmed with green, and green
felt hats with a stiff feather stuck in the side; and soldiers by
the hundreds, of all ranks and organizations; common fellows in blue,
staring in at the shop windows, officers in resplendent uniforms,
clanking their swords as they swagger past. Now and then, an elegant
equipage dashes by,--perhaps the four horses of the handsome young
king, with mounted postilions and outriders, or a liveried carriage of
somebody born with a von before