There is but one drawback to all this, and that is the smoking.
Mythologically represented, these Germans might be considered as a
race born of chimneys, with a necessity for smoking in their very
nature. A German walking without his pipe is only a dormant volcano;
it is in him to smoke all the while; you may be sure the crater will
begin to fume before long. Smoking is such an acknowledged attribute
of manhood, that the gentler sex seem to have given in to it as one of
the immutable things of nature; consequently all the public places
where both sexes meet are redolent of tobacco! You see a gentleman
doing the agreeable to a lady, cigar in mouth, treating her
alternately to an observation and a whiff, both of which seem to her
equally matters of course. In the cars some attempt at regulation
subsists; there are cars marked "_Nich rauchen_" into which
_we_ were always very careful to get; but even in these it is not
always possible to make a German suspend an operation which is to him
about the same as breathing.
On our way from Frankfort to Halle, in a "_nich rauchen_" car,
too, a jolly old gentleman, whose joyous and abundant German sounded
to me like the clatter of a thousand of brick, wound up a kind of
promiscuous avalanche of declamation by pulling a matchbox from his
pocket, and proceeding deliberately to light his pipe.
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