ried
away. The intelligent omnibus set me down before the best hotel in the
town, and there, as circumnavigators say in their journals, "I held a
parley with the natives." Among them was a waiter who spoke French in a
way that was transparent enough to give me an occasional glimpse of his
meaning; and who--a much rarer thing!--even sometimes understood what I
said to him.

My name upon the hotel register was a ray of light. The hostess had been
notified of my expected arrival, and I was to be sent for as soon as my
appearance should be announced; but it was now late in the evening, and
I thought it better to wait till the next day. There was served for
supper a "chaud-froid" of partridge--without confiture--and I lay down
upon the sofa, hopeless of being able to sleep between the two
down-cushions which compose the German and the Danish bed....

I explored Schleswig, which is a city quite peculiar in its appearance.
One wide street runs the length of the town, with which narrow cross
streets are connected, like the smaller bones with the dorsal vertebrae
of a fish. There are handsome modern houses, which, as usual, have not
the slightest character. But the more modest dwellings have a local
stamp; they are one-story buildings, very low--not over seven or eight
feet in height--capped with a huge roof of fluted red tiles. Windows,
broader than they are high, occupy the whole of the front; and behind
these windows, spread luxuriantly in porcelain or faience or earthen
flowerpots, plants of every description; geraniums, verbenas,
fuchsias--and this absolutely without exception. The poorest house is as
well adorned as the best. Sheltered by these perfumed window-blinds, the
women sit at work, knitting or sewing, and, out of the corner of their
eye, they watch, in the little movable mirror which reflects the
streets, the rare passer-by, whose boots resound upon the pavement. The
cultivation of flowers seem to be a passion in the north; countries
where they grow naturally make but little account of them in comparison.

The church in Schleswig had in store for me a surprise. Protestant
churches in general, are not very interesting from an artistic point of
view, unless the reformed faith may have installed itself in some
Catholic sanctuary diverted from its primitive designation. You find,
usually, only whitewashed naves, walls destitute of painting or
bas-relief, and rows of oaken benches well-polished and shining. It is
ne