the dreary, almost tenantless hostelry, told
their own sorrows. But we got good soup,
with an unlimited supply of bread, which
formed a dinner of the best description; for
besides that the adopted doctrine in Germany
is that soup is the best meat for the legs, we
found that it also agreed well with our
pockets. While in the full enjoyment of our
rest, we observed that an earnest conversation
had sprung up between the landlord and a
ruddy-featured fellow in a green half-livery.

"Whither are you going, friends?" inquired
the landlord at length, advancing towards us.

"We were going to Brünn by the high-road,"
we answered.

"This man will carry you beyond Chradim
for a zwanziger a head," said the landlord,
pointing to the half-liveried fellow, who began
gesticulating violently, and marking us off
with his fingers as if we were so many sheep.
This was a tempting offer for foot travellers,
each burthened with a heavy knapsack.
Chradim was eleven German miles on our
road—a good fifty miles in English measurement
and we were all to be transported
this distance for a total of about three
shillings and sixpence. We therefore inspected
the furwerk, which did not promise much;
but as it was drawn by a neat, sturdy little
horse, who rattled his harness with a sort of
brisk independence that spoke well for a
rapid journey, we readily decided upon the
acceptance of the offer made by the Bohemian
driver. That worthy shook his head when
we addressed him, and grunted out "Kein
Deutsch"—"No German." Indeed we found
that, excepting people in official situations,
innkeepers and the like, the German language
was either unknown to, or unacknowledged
by, the natives. In less than half an hour we
had tumbled our knapsacks into the cart—
which was a country dray, of course without
either springs or seats—and disposing
ourselves as conveniently as we could on its
rough edges, were rattling and jolting off over
the uneven road towards Collin, our station
for the night.

The country through which we passed was
uncultivated and uninteresting; but, like the
rest that we had seen, it spoke of a poverty
rather induced than natural. With the
exception of the two villages of Planinam and
Böhnishbrod we scarcely saw a house, and
human creatures were extremely scarce. As
we approached Collin we halted for a moment
to look at a column of black marble erected
on the road side to commemorate the devotion
of a handful of Russian troops who had at
this spot checked the progress of the whole
French army for many hours. A little later,
and we were lodged at our inn in the market
town of Collin, where we supped on bread
and cheese and good Prague beer. A wild
chorus of loud voices, and an overwhelming
odour of tobacco and onions, were the
accompaniments of our meal. The morrow
being market-day in Collin, the whole
population of the district had flocked to the town,
and the houses of accommodation were all
full. Our common room was quite choked
up with sturdy forms in white; broad
country faces, flushed with good humour, or
beer, shone upon us from all sides. Our
driver, who had been very sedate and
reserved during the whole of the day, soon
joined a cluster of congenial spirits in one
corner, and was the thirstiest and most
uproarious of mortals. As for ourselves, we
seemed to be made doubly strangers, for
there was not a word of German spoken in
our hearing. Hours wore on, and the country
folks seemed to enjoy their town excursion
so extremely well, that there were no signs of
breaking up, till mine host made his appearance
and insisted upon the lights being put
out, and upon the departure of his guests to
bed. But beds—where were they? Our
military Lübecker laughed at the idea.

"There are never more than two beds in a
Bohemian house of entertainment," said he,
"and the landlord by law claims the best of
the two for himself. The other is, for the
first comer who pays for it. Perhaps we
shall get some straw, perhaps not. At the
worst there are the boards."

But we did get some straw, after
considerable trouble, and the whole crowd of
boozers (with the exception of our driver, who
went to bed with his horse) set about
preparing couches for themselves, with a tact
that plainly showed how well they were
accustomed to it. The straw was spread
equally over the whole chamber, and each
man turned over his heavy oaken chair,
so that its back became a pillow. Divested
of boots and coats, we were soon stretched
upon our litters, thirty in a room.

Our morning duty was to shake the loose
straw out of our hair and ears, and then to
clear away every vestige of our night
accommodation, in order that a delicious breakfast
of rich black and thick coffee and plain bread
might be spread before us in the same room.
The country folks were all at market, and, as
far as we could see, so was our driver. He
was nowhere to be found. We had vague
notions of his having decamped, but
considering that we had only paid him two
zwanziger out of the five bargained for, the
supposition seemed hardly a reasonable one.
After seeking him in vain through every
room in the house, in the crowded market-
place, and in the neat little town, full of low,
square-built houses, and whitened colonnades,
we thought of the stable, and there we found
our friend, stretched on his back among the
hoofs of his horse, who, careful creature,
loving him too well to disturb him, never
stirred a limb.

We saw our guide in a new light that day.
In spite of all our urging, it was nine o'clock
before we fairly quitted Collin, and he was
then already in an exhilarated state, having
taken several strong draughts to cool his