Just as the
fish came, the band started a quick polka, and the consequence of
that was that we had not time to pick out the bones. We gulped down
white wine to the "Blacksmith's Galop," and if the tune had lasted
much longer we should both have been blind drunk. With the advent
of our steaks, the band struck up a selection from Wagner.
I know of no modern European composer so difficult to eat beefsteak
to as Wagner. That we did not choke ourselves is a miracle.
Wagner's orchestration is most trying to follow. We had to give up
all idea of mustard. B. tried to eat a bit of bread with his steak,
and got most hopelessly out of tune. I am afraid I was a little
flat myself during the "Valkyries' Ride." My steak was rather
underdone, and I could not work it quickly enough.
After getting outside hard beefsteak to Wagner, putting away potato
salad to the garden music out of Faust was comparatively simple.
Once or twice a slice of potato stuck in our throat during a very
high note, but, on the whole, our rendering was fairly artistic.
We rattled off a sweet omelette to a symphony in G - or F, or else K;
I won't be positive as to the precise letter; but it was something
in the alphabet, I know - and bolted our cheese to the ballet music
from Carmen. After which we rolled about in agonies to all the
national airs of Europe.
If ever you visit a German beer-hall or garden - to study character
or anything of that kind - be careful, when you have finished
drinking your beer, to shut the cover of the mug down tight. If you
leave it with the cover standing open, that is taken as a sign that
you want more beer, and the girl snatches it away and brings it back
refilled.
B. and I very nearly had an accident one warm night, owing to our
ignorance of this custom. Each time after we had swallowed the
quart, we left the pot, standing before us with the cover up, and
each time it was, in consequence, taken away, and brought back to
us, brimming full again. After about the sixth time, we gently
remonstrated.
"This is very kind of you, my good girl," B. said, "but really I
don't think we CAN. I don't think we ought to. You must not go on
doing this sort of thing. We will drink this one now that you have
brought it, but we really must insist on its being the last."
After about the tenth time we expostulated still more strongly.
"Now, you know what I told you four quarts ago!" remarked B.,
severely. "This can't go on for ever. Something serious will be
happening. We are not used to your German school of drinking. We
are only foreigners. In our own country we are considered rather
swagger at this elbow-raising business, and for the credit of old
England we have done our best. But now there must be an end to it.
I simply decline to drink any more. No, do not press me. Not even
another gallon!"
"But you both sit there with both your mugs open," replies the girl
in an injured tone.
"What do you mean, 'we sit with our mugs open'?" asks B. "Can't we
have our mugs open if we like?"
"Ah, yes," she explains pathetically; "but then I think you want
more beer. Gentlemen always open their mugs when they want them
filled with beer."
We kept our mugs shut after that.
MONDAY, JUNE 9TH
A Long Chapter, but happily the Last. - The Pilgrims' Return. - A
Deserted Town. - Heidelberg. - The Common, or Bed, Sheet, Considered
as a Towel. - B. Grapples with a Continental Time Table. - An
Untractable Train. - A Quick Run. - Trains that Start from Nowhere. -
Trains that Arrive at Nowhere. - Trains that Don't Do Anything. - B.
Goes Mad. - Railway Travelling in Germany. - B. is Taken Prisoner. -
His Fortitude. - Advantages of Ignorance. - First Impressions of
Germany and of the Germans.
We are at Ostend. Our pilgrimage has ended. We sail for Dover in
three hours' time. The wind seems rather fresh, but they say that
it will drop towards the evening. I hope they are not deceiving us.
We are disappointed with Ostend. We thought that Ostend would be
gay and crowded. We thought that there would be bands and theatres
and concerts, and busy table-d'hotes, and lively sands, and thronged
parades, and pretty girls at Ostend.
I bought a stick and a new pair of boots at Brussels on purpose for
Ostend.
There does not seem to be a living visitor in the place besides
ourselves - nor a dead one either, that we can find. The shops are
shut up, the houses are deserted, the casino is closed. Notice-
boards are exhibited outside the hotels to the effect that the
police have strict orders to take into custody anybody found
trespassing upon or damaging the premises.
We found one restaurant which looked a little less like a morgue
than did the other restaurants in the town, and rang the bell.
After we had waited for about a quarter of an hour, an old woman
answered the door, and asked us what we wanted. We said a steak and
chipped potatoes for two, and a couple of lagers. She said would we
call again in about a fortnight's time, when the family would be at
home? She did not herself know where the things were kept.
We went down on to the sands this morning. We had not been walking
up and down for more than half an hour before we came across the
distinct imprint of a human foot.
