over. The king's carriage was brought round, the people again shouted,
the cannon roared, the six black horses reared and plunged, and away he
went.

After all, says the artist, "the King of Bavaria has not much power."

"You can see," returns a gentleman who speaks English, "just how much he
has: it is a six-horse power."

On other days there was horse-trotting, music production, and for
several days prize-shooting. The latter was admirably conducted: the
targets were placed at the foot of the bank; and opposite, I should
think not more than two hundred yards off, were shooting-houses, each
with a room for the register of the shots, and on each side of him
closets where the shooters stand. Signal-wires run from these houses
to the targets, where there are attendants who telegraph the effect
of every shot. Each competitor has a little book; and he shoots at any
booth he pleases, or at all, and has his shots registered. There was
a continual fusillade for a couple of days; but what it all came to,
I cannot tell. I can only say, that, if they shoot as steadily as they
drink beer, there is no other corps of shooters that can stand before
them.

INDIAN SUMMER

We are all quiet along the Isar since the October Fest; since the young
king has come back from his summer castle on the Starnberg See to live
in his dingy palace; since the opera has got into good working order,
and the regular indoor concerts at the cafes have begun. There is no
lack of amusements, with balls, theaters, and the cheap concerts, vocal
and instrumental. I stepped into the West Ende Halle the other night,
having first surrendered twelve kreuzers to the money-changer at the
entrance,--double the usual fee, by the way. It was large and well
lighted, with a gallery all round it and an orchestral platform at
one end. The floor and gallery were filled with people of the most
respectable class, who sat about little round tables, and drank beer.
Every man was smoking a cigar; and the atmosphere was of that degree of
haziness that we associate with Indian summer at home; so that through
it the people in the gallery appeared like glorified objects in a
heathen Pantheon, and the orchestra like men playing in a dream. Yet
nobody seemed to mind it; and there was, indeed, a general air of social
enjoyment and good feeling. Whether this good feeling was in process of
being produced by the twelve or twenty glasses of beer which it is not
unusual for a Germ