church was commenced by an architect
whose name has been forgotten, and who procured the design for the
building from Satan himself, upon the usual condition of giving a
promissory note for his soul. A certain Father Clement, however, a very
knowing priest, of whom the arch-tempter stood in almost as great awe as
he had ever done of St Dunstan of nose-pulling celebrity, came to the
assistance of the builder, and put him up to a stratagem, by which he
avoided signing away his spiritual part, although he still obtained
possession of the plan for the cathedral. Satan confessed himself
outwitted, but prophesied that the building should never be finished,
and that its builder's name should not go down to posterity. The latter
part of the prediction has been accomplished; but as the present King of
Prussia has declared his intention of finishing the work that has been
so magnificently begun, it seems probable Beelzebub may prove mistaken
in one portion of his prophecy.

Cologne being a large city, somewhat Frenchified in its ways, M. Dumas
manages pretty well as regards eating and drinking; but, as he ascends
the river, matters get worse. He arrives at Bonn at the hour of the one
o'clock meal, called the first dinner, and we find him expatiating on
the subject of German appetites and feeding.

"The Germans eat from morning till night. On opening their eyes, at
seven o'clock in the morning, they take their coffee--at eleven,
breakfast--at one, the little dinner, (a sort of luncheon)--at
three, dinner--at five, another meal, nondescript, nameless, and
abundant--at nine, a tremendous supper, preparatory to going to bed.
Tea, cakes, and sandwiches, fill up the intervals."

This is really only a moderate exaggeration on the part of M. Dumas.
Five meals a-day, three of them solid, meat-devouring, wine-bibbing
feeds, are the regular allowance of every well-conditioned, well-to-do,
comfortable Rhinelander. We do not consider Frenchmen small eaters,
whatever they may consider themselves--if they eat little of each dish,
they eat of a vast number; but for examples of positive voracity,
commend us to a German table-d'hote. A coachful of French _commis
voyageurs_, assembled, after a ten hours' fast, round the luxurious
profusion and delicacies of a Languedocian dinner, would appear mere
babes and sucklings in the eating way, compared to a party of Germans at
their one o'clock feed. The difference is nearly as g