For fifty miles before one reaches Munich, the land is flat, stale,
and apparently very unprofitable, and there is little to interest
the looker-out. He sits straining his eyes towards the horizon,
eagerly longing for some sign of the city to come in sight.
It lies very low, however, and does all it can to escape
observation; and it is not until he is almost within its streets
that he discovers it.
THE REST OF SUNDAY, THE 25TH
We Seek Breakfast. - I Air My German. - The Art of Gesture. - The
Intelligence of the Premiere Danseuse. - Performance of English
Pantomime in the Pyrenees. - Sad Result Therefrom. - The "German
Conversation" Book. - Its Narrow-minded View of Human Wants and
Aspirations. - Sunday in Munich. - Hans and Gretchen. - High Life v.
Low Life. - "A Beer-Cellar."
At Munich we left our luggage at the station, and went in search of
breakfast. Of course, at eight o'clock in the morning none of the
big cafes were open; but at length, beside some gardens, we found an
old-fashioned looking restaurant, from which came a pleasant odour
of coffee and hot onions; and walking through and seating ourselves
at one of the little tables, placed out under the trees, we took the
bill of fare in our hands, and summoned the waiter to our side.
