minary remarks we introduce the Doctor on the scene in propriâ personâ.

"As a preparative for a journey, let me recommend that prejudice be, as far as possible, laid on one side. This prejudice is very frequently found entertained against England and the English. Why the French are given to such a fallacy we may easily comprehend: history furnishes us the key. The French and English are neighbours who do not feel comfortable in one another's presence: prejudice is very natural between such neighbours. In this respect, however, the Briton stands in a freer position towards the German. The latter has no reason, with the exception of a few trade questions, to entertain such a feeling towards the English; but, spite of this, prejudice has hardened the hearts of many Germans against them. It is the mother of injustice. It is true, every man tries to justify it-speaks against the egotism, obstinacy, pride, avarice, spleen, and rudeness of the English, although their judgment is based on no more valid grounds than those of tradition. Many condemn all Englishmen through the individual specimens they have seen on their travels in Germany. It has almost become the fashion in Germany to abuse everything English. One exclaims, 'See how they treat the operatives; Look at the distinction between the aristocracy and the bourgeoisie,' says a second; a third refers to the conduct of the English towards Ireland; a fourth, finally, through a certain cosmopolitan sympathy, abused the whole British nation on account of the war against China. The most universal exponent of prejudice lies in Napoleon's remark, a nation of shopkeepers.' It is not necessary for me here to confute these opinions singly: the question must stand on a broader basis. Let the German nation, by some magic, be suddenly placed in the situation of the English, and the best thing they could probably do would be to act precisely like the English now act. Such prejudices call to mind the fable of the Fox and the Grapes.' If we cannot reach our neighbour's pre-eminence, we are apt to criticise it, or thrust it on one side, to bring his faults into a prominent position. It is not absolutely necessary to see the light side everywhere; but to wish purposely only to look on the dark, is unjust. Let, then, every traveller to England be endued with the humane principle, to think well of everything till he be convinced of the contrary. Through the unbounded liberty in England, the evil element displays itself more than in any other country; but the good, the excellent, the opportune, not less so. This truth must be clearly understood before treading on British soil-at least let the traveller declare an amnesty with his prejudice for an undetermined space of time; perhaps then he may arrive at a perfect truce, after the first aspect of men and things."

These be brave words, my masters, and may furnish a valuable lesson to others besides Germans. We as a nation are not entirely free from the same failing, though the many lessons we have lately received have knocked a good deal of conceit out of us, and shown us it is never too late to learn. But let the doctor proceed with his discourse.

"The next best advice I can give is to accommodate oneself to circumstances. The traveller in England must do as the English do. The Englishman is not so much mistrustful as circumspect. He lets the stranger follow his own road; he gives free play to his fellow-man. He

does not address him when not acquainted with him, or when not introduced to him. This trait astonishes the German, who is so fond of making acquaintances. The latter is open-hearted with any man whom he has reason to consider respectable; he talks with him, forms eternal friendship with him; in short, gives full scope to his bonhommie. He expects the same in return, but this expectation is usually deceived in England. He finds coldness, repelling behaviour, a really painful, or what appears more insolent still-no reply at all. The shock given to the feelings by such a reception easily changes to bitterness, the simplest consequences of which are to regard everything in a false light, and pour out the most unjust and frequently ridiculous abuse on things excellent in themselves.

"The Englishman must not be bored. When once gained, he is worth preserving. He does not affect the vapid phrases of ceremony or politesse. Whoever is accustomed to these-and unluckily nearly every German belonging to the educated classes is so-is badly off in England: the commonest phrase of this nature is repugnant to the Briton: he can scarce put up with it once. If necessary, on the first visit he is about one-half as polite and friendly as the German is accustomed to expect from his countryman or a Frenchman. On a second visit, when he expects to find himself quite at home, the plainness of his reception terrifies him. The Englishman receives the stranger as a countryman, for whom he has no occasion to put himself out of his way, and from whom he expects the same service. The German desires to be received with, I am immeasurably pleased to see you,' and a long et cetera of polite formulæ which the Englishman considers absolute nonsense. The German is astounded at his plain reception, and cuts a comical figure before the Englishman, who cannot understand the meaning of it. The estranged person, if I may use the phrase, often stays away altogether, and a probably very valuable acquaintance is broken off in consequence. gird on simplicity before venturing to England, and leave his stock of polite phrases at home."

Let each

Apropos de bottes, we remember hearing or reading somewhere a somewhat laughable anecdote, which deserves repeating. An Englishman and a German were travelling together in a diligence, and both smoking. The German did all in his power to draw his companion into conversation, but to no purpose; at one moment he would, with a superabundance of politeness, apologise for drawing his attention to the fact that the ash of his cigar had fallen on his waistcoat, or a spark was endangering his neck-handkerchief. At length the exhausted Englishman exclaimed, "Why the deuce can't you leave me alone? your coattail has been burning for the last ten minutes, but I didn't bother you about it."

In truth, our coldness is something too bad. We cannot condescend to step down from the pedestal on which popular vanity has planted us, even when by doing so we might do a stranger a kindness. We trust, however, this is wearing off, thanks to the great fraternal festival held in Hyde Park. A Frenchman may now walk through our streets unmolested, be he bearded like the pard; he no longer need fear having a "queue" of ragged boys at his heels, honouring him with the epithets of "scaly mounseer," and the other flowers of eloquence appertaining to our

street phraseology. We are decidedly becoming daily more cosmopolitan. We must not for our own credit omit relating an anecdote mentioned by our author in the course of his amusing work. He was one day outside the Observatory at Greenwich, and expressed his regret to a gentleman he met there, at not being able to enter it. The gentleman told him he was not acquainted with Professor Airey, but knew Faraday, who was a friend of the professor's. A few hurried words written on a leaf of his note-book procured the German a meeting with Faraday, and through him, admittance to the Observatory. We wish, for our own sakes, such anecdotes were more common, but are afraid the rule lies in the exception.

Let us now see the opinion Dr. Gambihler entertains of that splendid jargon, as some one termed it, the English language:

Many learn English only through the desire of once visiting England. These must be instructed in a very different method from that usually practised; they cannot succeed in the customary philological schoolmaster fashion, or at least will not gain the end they assigned themselves. It is very easy to form a perfect philological acquaintance with a language; many may be able to understand the English classics, read Shakspeare and Byron, Scott and Bulwer, readily, and in consequence of the studies" they have made, speak English fluently; but the greatest mistake lies in this very fact. They speak in a way they should not do: in common conversation they are irresistibly repugnant to a native ear through their Byronising. They can scarce address the Boots at an inn in anything but high-flown language. The conversational language is a very peculiar one; it is marked and stereotyped; the Englishman expects in the course of conversation this or that, but no other form of expression: he is more ready to pardon vulgarity than classicality. (?) A man taught philologically, out of twenty phrases or words will apply all, or the greater part of them, falsely or ridiculously. The most perfect acquaintance with English is displayed in the proper selection of words: without this all grammar and all fluency is half lost. The English language, in consequence of its historical origin and formation, for it contains all the elements of German and French, is very copious-I may say, in comparison with monetary wealth, rich as an Englishman. It possesses a whole group of synonymes, the application of which is the result of great practice; they are usually, not as in other languages, sentences approximatively contained in themselves: no, they absolutely bear the same significance through their historical descent. Let us take any word: it is originally found among the Britons: then the same word was introduced from Germany by the Anglo-Saxons: afterwards by the Normans under William the Conqueror: at another time the same word was brought in by the Danes: last of all it springs from good Latin soil, for instance, through the theologians, jurists, or physicians: in no case is the word dead; it lives everywhere, but cannot be applied arbitrarily. One style demands the word in the early English shape; another in the German; a third in the French, and so on. Any one, therefore, who does not attend to these variations, speaks incorrectly. Under such circumstances, what an amount of accuracy is required in speaking, and how few have been taught under the supposition of this necessity.

"A great portion of our philologians have to do penance for a great

sin in regard of the above circumstance. They furnish a very improper example in their method of teaching languages. Did Cicero, who spoke Greek so gloriously in Athens that the most distinguished Athenians, it is said, almost wept because a stranger excelled them in eloquence, learn the language in the same manner as our philologians wish to teach it? He must have acquired it practically. This practical method does not, however, exclude grammar; merely the manner and circumstances differ. In modern languages a certain copia verborum must be acquired before grammatical elegances need be thought of. These are not wanting in the English language. However simple grammatical etymology may be, just so difficult is the syntactical portion, when a person wishes to speak or write like an educated Englishman, especially as the English language contains so many classical elements, and in later years has brought them so prominently forward. I may mention the difficult and artistical construction of the accusative and infinitive, verbs governing a double accusative, the absolute case resembling the Latin ablative absolute, and finally the elegant elision of sentences through the use of the participle. The greatest and last difficulty in the English language is the variety of absolutely logical thinking, in which the English excel every nation in the world. To this I may add the most severe demand of clearness in ideas. In English it would be considered a great fault if it were necessary to ask oneself, in prose or verse, what is the meaning of this? The word furnishes the meaning, and reasoning consequence has given the word this and no other meaning. These are certainly honourable distinctions for the English language, which give grammar and logic full employment. How many Germans could employ such a style of language who have formed themselves on the model of certain native writers, who to be understood must be translated into conventional German?"

Our author, as is natural for a German, speaks in high terms of our liberty of the press, and even finds praise for our law of libel, evidencing the case of the Times when prosecuted by a gang of sharpers, whom it had exposed when trying to pass forged letters of credit on the Continent. We, however, cannot quite agree with him in finding our English law of libel faultless; it affords too many facilities for a scamp to display his litigiousness; and even if unsuccessful, he puts his victim to great and unnecessary expense.

One of the occupations a German in London may usefully indulge himself in, is to try and find the end of London: this is to be accomplished by taking an omnibus to Shoreditch Church, and thence walking on through Hackney. We fancy this would be no bad amusement for Englishmen as well; for our own part, we cannot tell where London begins or where it ends, and did not even know it was thirty-two miles in circumference, or six more than the city of Pekin.

Dr. Gambihler speaks also in very high terms of Murray's "Handbook for Travellers." He says:

"What accuracy, what fidelity, and what historical treasures! Through this travelling literature our way of living has been revealed to the English in the most minute details; and we must not be angry if they tell us the truth a little, do not take everything for gold that glitters, point out our want of comfort, our uncleanliness, our disgusting use of tobacco, our literary phantasms, want of union, and other unamiable weaknesses. If

they are now and then unjust, have we not been so to them? We will not believe that the injustice is intentional and 'errare est humanum.'"

He speaks, too, with all becoming admiration of our domestic arrangements; and among them none seem to please him more than the portion concealed beneath the pavement, namely, the water, gas, and sewer pipes. He recommends no traveller to leave unnoticed any repairs that are going on in the streets, which shows our customary abuse of them is somewhat too widely extended. We knew there were sermons in stones, but must confess we never thought of this application of the apothegm. The doctor calls it anatomising, for veins and arteries are laid bare during the work. We have known many Germans in London, and our great delight has been to ask them what caused the most vivid impression upon them among the countless objects of interest they witnessed for the first time? With one, it was the bridges; with another, the splendid horses and carriages; with a third-gently be it spoken-the extraordinary number of beggars; in short, we seldom found two struck by the same thing, except in the matter of comfort. This we believe is conceded to us by every nation in the world. So much is this the case, that the French, to express a feeling they could not by any possibility understand, were obliged to coin the word confortable. But in what does the secret consist? We agree with our author in allowing it to arise from our extraordinary domesticity, and that inherent feeling of religious respect that fortunately distinguishes us. A French or German is never happy chez lui; his first wish is to rush off to the estaminet as soon as he has swallowed a hurried meal. He does not understand the feeling that animates an Englishman when he sees his olive-branches round about his table. This it is that makes Dr. Gambihler write as follows, when alluding to the diversions to be found in London :

"In St. James's Park, in the centre of a pleasant landscape, nature is more fully revealed, especially on Sunday afternoons. The healthy children roll about on the velvety grass, under the eye of their affectionate parents and friends. The imagination cannot form a more pleasing picture. The Englishman, surrounded by his children, represents domestic virtue and unspeakable happiness-it is a sight that fills the heart with joy. A stroll through such groups is surely balsam to a mentally suffering stranger; for the sound-minded, perfect delight. Let no stranger, then, neglect visiting this park, if he wish to form the acquaintance of the English. Here too it is easy for him to induce the usually most unbending Englishman to commence a friendly and voluntary conversation, Nature and feelings expand the heart and loosen the tongue."

The author strongly advises his compatriots to be diligent in their visits to our theatres for the sake of learning the language. This we consider sage counsel, and have ourselves found the benefit of it in learning foreign tongues. His remarks about our stage are worth quoting:

"It seems that generally the French are greater friends to theatres than the English. A visit to the seven playhouses in Paris is more frequently made than in London. The Sunday holiday furnishes an occasion in the former city for visiting a theatre. Many thousands during the week have no time in England for theatres, and on Sunday they are closed. It is true, half-price furnishes some help, for plenty may be seen