The master under whom Hans serves at
Hamburgh is a pleasant, affable gentleman;
his apprentice Peter may be of a different
opinion, but that is of no consequence. The
master has spent the best years of his life in
England and France; has learned to speak
the languages of both countries with perfect
facility, and is one of the lucky monopolists of
his trade. He employs three workmen; one
of them, who is possessed of that peculiar cast
of countenance generally attributed to the
children of Israel. He has been demurred to
by the guild,— and why ? Because a Jew is
legally incapable of working in Hamburgh.
He is, however, allowed the usual privileges
on attesting that he is not an Israelite.

Our master accommodates under his own
roof one workman and his apprentice Peter.
The others, whom he cannot lodge, are allowed
each one mark-banco (fourteen pence) per
week, to enable them to find a bed-chamber
elsewhere. They suffer a pecuniary loss by
the arrangement. Hans sleeps in a narrow
box, built on the landing, into which no ray of
heaven's light had ever penetrated. His
bedding is a very simple affair. He is troubled
with neither blankets nor sheets. An "under"
and an "over" bed, the latter rather lighter
than the former, and both supposed to be of
feathers, form his bed and bedding. Hans is
as well off as others, so he does not complain.
As for the apprentice, Peter, it was known
that he disappeared at a certain hour every
evening; and from his appearance when he
turned out in the morning, Hans was under
the impression that he wildly shot himself
into some deep and narrow hole, and slept the
night through on his head.

And how does Hans fare under his master's
roof? Considering the reminiscences of his
apprenticeship, he relishes his cup of coffee in
the morning, his tiny round roll of white
bread, and the heavy black rye-loaf, into
which he is allowed to hew his way unchecked,
and beautiful Holstein butter. Not being
accustomed to better food, it is possible that
he enjoys the tasteless fresh boiled beef, the
sodden baked meat, with no atom of fat, which
form the staple food at dinner. Whether he
can comprehend the soups which are sometimes
placed before him,—now made of
shredded lemons, now of strained apples, and
occasionally of plain water, with a sprinkling
of rice, is another matter; but the sour-
kraut and bacon, the boiled beef and raisins,
and the baked veal and prunes, are certain
to be looked upon by him as unusual
luxuries.

The master presides at the table, and
blesses the meat with the air of a father of
his people. Although workmen in Germany
are little better than old apprentices, this
daily and familiar intercourse has the effect of
breaking down the formal barriers which in
England effectually divide the capitalist and
the labourer. It creates a respectful
familiarity, which raises the workman without
lowering the master. The manners of both
are thereby decidedly improved.

Hans gradually learns other trade customs.
His comrade falls sick, and is taken to the
free hospital, a little way out of the city.
This hospital is clean and well kept, but
fearfully crowded. The elder journeymen
of the guild are there too, and they comfort
the sick man, and hand him the weekly
stipend, half-a-crown, allowed out of the
sick-fund. Hans contributes to this sick-fund
two marks— two shillings and fourpence— a
quarter. He does it willingly, but the master
has power to deduct it from his wages in the
name of the guild. His poor sick friend dies;
away from home and friends—a desolate being
among strangers. But he is not, therefore, to
be neglected. Every workman in the trade
is called upon to contribute his share— about
sevenpence— towards the expenses of the
funeral; and the two senior, assisted by four
other journeymen, in full evening dress, attend
his funeral. His effects are then carefully
packed up, and sent— a melancholy memorial
of the dead— to his relations.

From the same fund which relieves the sick,
are the "wandering boys" also assisted. But
the "Geschenk" (gift), as it is called, is a mere
trifle; sometimes but a few pence, and in a large
city like Berlin it amounts to but twenty
silver groschen— little more than two
shillings. It is not considered disgraceful to
accept this donation; as all, when in work,
contribute towards the fund from which it is
supplied.

And what is the amount of wages that
German workmen receive ? In Hamburgh
wages vary from five to eight marks per
week, that is, from seven shillings to ten
and sixpence, paid monthly. In Leipsic
they are paid fortnightly, and average
about ten shillings per week. In Berlin
wages are paid by the calendar month, and
average twenty-four dollars (a dollar is rather
more than three shillings) for that period;
so that a workman may be said to earn about
eighteen shillings a week, but is dependent
on his own resources for food and lodging.
In Vienna the same regulation exists, and
wages range from five to eight guldens— ten
to sixteen shillings per week— paid weekly, as
in England. But a workman in Vienna may
be respectably lodged, lighted, and washed
for at the rate of half-a-crown a week. In
Berlin and Vienna married journeymen are
to be met with, but not in great numbers,
and in smaller towns they may almost be said
to be unknown. Dr. Korth, in his address to
his young friends. the "travelling boys," on this
subject, emphatically says—"Avoid, in God's
name, all attachments to womankind, more
especially to those of whom your hearts
would say, 'These could I love.'" And then
the quaint old gentleman proceeds to say a
number of ungallant things, which are not
worth translating.

No! the German workman is taught to