end Schmallenberg and Oberkirchen, in the next
Cologne and Düren, then Witten, and Dortmund,
Mülheim and Elberfeldt, and so on.
Friendly feelings are doubtless aroused in the
breasts of the inhabitants of each sympathising
city—it is an approximation towards German
unity!

A doubt crosses our mind whether these
public notifications, in so far as verlobte are
concerned, might not hold good in law in case
of promise. We pass on through a
whole row of "Verlobte," and stumble upon an
indignant parent, who declares (in the usual bad
type) that there is not any truth in the
announcement of the "Verlobung" of his daughter.
We quote verbatim:

"I hereby declare that the announcement
that appeared in the Cologne Gazette of the
2nd of October of the present year, of the
Verlobung of my daughter Anna with Herr Heinrich
Montz is a knavish mystification (eine
schurkenhafte mystification)"—not a bad
expression of an injured parent. It is duly signed,
"Franz Reiners, 3rd Oct., 1866."

Whether the month of October is particularly
selected for "Verlobungs" we do not know;
but, as we take up paper after paper, they are
as thick as bees; they tread close upon each
other's heels, like people in a crowd on a Jenny
Lind night. We must, however, leave the
Verlobung purgatory, and, like Dante and Virgil,
visit other regions.

We come to the Heiraths-Anzeige! We
are too polite to quote in full the immortal bard
of Italy—the terrible words above a certain
portal:

Through me you pass into the City of Woe,
Through me you pass into eternal pain . . .
All hope abandon, ye who enter here.

Most of these are short and simple. They
denote happiness. For instance:

"Albert Rauch, Adèle Rauch—married."

The next is more explicit:

"H. Ferber, railway secretary, and Elizabeth
Ferber, born Klöcker, respectfully announce
their heute-vollzogene eheliche Verbindung"
—anglicè, "their-this-day's consummated
matrimonial alliance."

The matrimonial announcements all partake,
more or less, of the same character; they are
much tamer than our own. There are some
curious phases in German matrimonial life.
There is not any law against marriage with a
deceased wife's sister. We know a learned
professor who married three sisters successively,
beginning with the eldest. We have also been
present at an evening party where a lady was
present with one (reigning) and two ex-husbands
in the room, all chatting amicably together.

The "Geburts-Anzeige," or announcements
of births, are far more interesting. Here the
German heart expands. It is not the monotonous,
"On the—instant, Mrs. Smith, of a daughter."
The felicity of the proud father and of the happy
mother are made public in glowing language.
Domestic bliss emerges, as it were, from the
home fireside, and stalks forth into the broad
daylight. Not only is the population informed
that Mr. Seiler has a son; he is described as
"gesund" and "tüchtig"—healthy and strong
—with the addition that the hearts of both
parents are greatly rejoiced at that great fact.
The welcome little stranger enters public life
in swaddling-clothes. Some of these notifications
are very amusing.

A happy couple announce that, in consequence
of the birth of a fine boy, the hearts have been
greatly rejoiced of Emil Month and Appollonia
Month, born Kurth. Happy Appollonia! may
her boy prosper! The next is pretty and
playful:

"Mr. Aloys Weiler announces to his
relations and friends the joyful news that his own
dear little wife (mein liebes Fraüchen) Ottilia,
born Daniels, presented him with a sound strong
daughter on the third of October (mit einem
gesunden und kräftigen Tochter).

The third of October seems to have been very
prolific in healthy babes. No less than six in
a row in one column. Mothers and children
doing well.

Relations, friends, and acquaintances (says
Baumeister Kleckner) are most respectfully
informed—to avoid the necessity of special
notification—that my dear wife (meine liebe Frau)
Pauline, bom Kuke, has been safely delivered
(glücklich entbunden) of a healthy girl!

The next is a boy:

"This day ( 2nd October)," announces
Conrad Schneider, "my dear wife Francisca,
born Richter, was happily delivered of a sound
boy."

More rejoicings of hearts follow. A happy
father is particular about the exact time of the
auspicious event. It happened "gegen Mittag"
—about noon.

Mr. Hermann J. Klein and his wife, Bertha
Klein, born Schnitzler, announce the happy
birth of a little daughter—eines gesunden
Tochterchens. She is gesund; and so their
hearts rejoice. Decidedly Lilliputian. Klein
means small, and Schnitzler is the diminutive of
a diminutive.

It comes in context with the very next one:

"This morning, my dear wife Elise, born
Schmachtenberg, was easily and happily
delivered of a strong sound boy."

We leave the sound healthy strong boys and
girls, and enter on more delicate ground.

Some young gentlemen have not the courage
to propose; some young ladies cannot induce
them to come forward. An advertisement is
the last resource of these unhappy individuals.
Some of these effusions are highly poetical and
romantic, others more practical, especially as
regards the number of thalers required for
happiness. Matrimonial agencies flourish in
Germany. You pay so much per cent to the
Galeotto who manages the business.

The following is a bonâ fide marriage
advertisement (reelles Heiraths-Gesuch). We quote
it in extenso, as a sample of that peculiar style