or rather ellipse of human kind, which daily
congregates round that festive board.

The inn is kept by an elderly woman, who
has been for many years past in a state of
widowhood. She is of a pleasant and jocose
disposition, albeit her voice is occasionally to
be heard in a loud key proceeding from the
kitchen, especially when an undue delay
occurs in the serving of the dinner. She is
seconded by her niece, a very pretty little
specimen of German womankind; who, with
two handmaids (there are no waiters) and an
odd man, who combines the duties of butler,
boots, and ostler, form all the visible
establishment. There are, to be sure, one or two
hangers-on, whose duty does not seem to be
clearly defined. They are chiefly employed in
transporting your luggage from the steamer
to the inn, or vice versâ, and hanging about
the stables, making themselves generally
useless.

The Speise-Saal, or dining and coffee-room,
fronts the street, and does not present any
particularly distinctive features from that of
any other small German inn. It is
ornamented, amongst other things, with a picture
of Cologne Cathedral, the effect of which is
slightly marred by a clock-dial of large
dimensions being placed exactly in the middle
of the painting. A strong odour of stale
tobacco smoke and soup pervades the apartment;
a supply of the former being kept up
with great assiduity by the majority of the
guests.

The company does not much resemble that
which is to be found at the great tables
d'hôte of the principal Rhine hotels.
Comparatively few English, armed to the teeth with
Murray's Hand-books, Panoramas of the
Rhine, Sketch and Conversation Books,
uglies, and—by the fair much loved—
mushroom hats of portentous dimensions, make
their appearance in this place. The greater
part of the society is formed of
inhabitants of the town, some of whom have
dined at the Golden Plough regularly for
twenty years past. Occasional travellers,
mostly natives, join the circle, which is not
unfrequently brightened by a military uniform
or two.

About one o'clock (the hour of dinner) the
habitués are to be seen strolling in, singly, or
by twos and threes; if it be fine, sitting on
the benches which, according to old custom,
are placed by the door; or if the weather be
bad, standing round the stove, for the most
part smoking, chatting, and reading the
small single-sheet newspaper. The greater
number of these individuals have been getting
an appetite by consuming divers glasses of
beer at the various Bierwirthschafts in the
town. By the way, the amount of small
beer (all malt liquor is small here) some
Germans manage to imbibe, is calculated to
impress a stranger with considerable
astonishment. Some of the Bonn students have
been known to swallow two or three gallons
in the course of an evening, apparently without
much difficulty.

In the course of events the soup has made
its appearance, and we are seated. At the head
of the table has sat from time immemorial
an old gentleman of great importance,
Chamberlain to the Durchlaucht, or Serene
Highness, in whose principality the town is
situated. The Herr Cammerade is a very
Lord Chesterfield and Brummel combined, in
point of ceremony and deportment. He is
not, however, I grieve to say, invariably
treated with that reverence and respect
which are  due to his years and position by
certain of the younger branches of the
society; nay, he is occasionally made the
butt, or vehicle for the "chaff" of a
ponderous and Germanic character, of certain
members of the legal profession, who are
among the constant frequenters of mine
hostess's board. Next to the Chamberlain
sits the Herr Doctor Stolberg Lozengefels,
who has practised medicine in the town with
good repute for many years past. This
personage is invariably the first to arrive at the
Golden Plough, and the last to depart. He is of
a taciturn mood, and when not engaged at
dinner, is always to be seen in a favourite
chair in the corner, reading the paper. On
the other side, the Herr Cammerade is
supported by a gentleman who holds the important
position of district judge. His personal
appearance always reminds me of an elephant.
He has large ears and small grey eyes; a
slow or solemn manner of moving himself,
and a massive proboscidiform character of
mouth, which is heightened by a pair of large
prominent moustachios, by no means impressing
the judicial character on English eyes.
The judge, moreover, affects a gallant
demeanour towards the fair sex, and especially
the pretty niece before-mentioned.
Another important member of the Tafel is the
Captain von Donnerblitz, a retired
unwounded officer of tne Prussian service.
The captain is tremendously perpendicular
in his carriage, and employs his leisure, when
not talking very loud, chiefly in twirling his
moustache, which is strongly developed. In
contrast with this militaire is an old major,
on half-pay, lame from a wound received at
Ligny: a mild, quiet, and amiable gentleman.
I ought to have given him precedence
in the list, but his more obtrusive brother
officer first forced himself on my recollection.
Then comes a knot of the aforesaid avocats,
as they are called. These are remarkable for
clinging together with great pertinacity;
they are always to be seen in a cluster, either
before dinner or supper, in the beer-houses or
perambulating the riverside. They are, for
the most part, of a lively temperament, and
are not particular about cravats in hot
weather. Next to myself for some time sat
the young Count von Dibsdorff, who, though
reputed very rich, invariably dined here at
the cost of about a shilling; he wore