"Not that I know of, my dear. Oh, no; here come the singers."

There were four of them, two men and two women, dressed in Tyrolese costume. Two immediately stepped into the centre of the circle, and began the oddest medley of singing and dancing that ever you heard. Their voices were sweet, and wondrously ingenious in their running up and down, whilst their attitudes were the funniest imaginable; if every part of their body were being galvanized they couldn't have twitched and curled about more. Evidently part of the song had a humorous vein in it, for peals of laughter followed some verses, which, at this sign of applause, were repeated with renewed vigour.

When they sat down, a single performer stood up. He immediately began shaking his arms violently, as if some peas or shot had got under his sleeves, and he wished to rattle them out in a great hurry.

Tyrolese stick-music is a marvellous accomplishment. With two sticks this musician played more tunes than I can count, and every one as quickly as possible. Music, or rather musical sounds, you could hardly expect, but the tune, notes, and airs were given plainly and correctly enough. What will Professor Scales, R.A.M., say to this?

"He plays nothing but click, clack, clack, uncle; wont he ever change the tune?" asked Jessie, getting rather sleepy.

At this moment two handsome Tyrolese, accompanied by a boyish-looking Prussian soldier, entered the stall and took the opposite side of our table. Immediately Jessie's eyes fastened on the dress of the former, and she forgot the click and clack in her admiration of them.

I don't think I ever saw a finer pair of fellows, and their

costume was spick and span in every particular.

Their peaked hats, with long feathers, their fine shirts, overlaid with silk bars, their gorgeously embroidered vests, loose velvet jerkins, starched cambric sleeves, black small-clothes, shining knee-buckles and garters, spotless white stockings and polished shoes, made Jessie's eyes open as if some of the people had walked straight out of her Picture-book of All Nations.

"What pretty men, uncle! Do give them some beer," she whispered.

The admiration seemed to be mutual; for all three new comers cast interested looks on the little thing, with her blue eyes and curly golden hair. They observed too that we spoke English, and watched us curiously, though without the slightest impertinence.

Of course Uncle John must enter into conversation with them. What they talked about I have not the least idea, but at last I discovered that kind Uncle John was inviting them by many signs and wonders to take another glass of beer. They nodded pleasantly. My uncle called "Kellner!” and pulled out his purse with delight when the frothing glasses came. The kellner took about the value of threepence from his palm, and the business was happily settled.

Not quite, however. The men, in their gratitude, were not content by touching their foreheads with their fingers and bowing low. They must chink glasses with my uncle in token of good fellowship, which accordingly they did, smiling honest smiles of pleasure.

Jessie looked at them quite lingeringly as we came away. "I like that better than a grand theatre," she said; "how nice and quiet the people are, and how happy they seem."

Jessie was right. No aristocratic company could have enjoyed themselves in a more moderate and irreproachable way. Amongst the hundreds of people, we did not hear one loud laugh or one brawling voice, and we left the beer garden, quite glad to have made its acquaintance. John's mistake proved to be a lucky one this time.

Uncle

You can imagine how interestedly papa listened to our account, and how he teazed us all for our love of beer and low company.

Next day was a very busy one. Coblentz seems to be full of tourists and soldiers, and lively enough, between both. Early in the morning we walked to see the Moselle Bridge, and you would have been amused at observing the milk-women coming in from the country. All the milkpails go on the top of their heads, as indeed do water-tubs, wash-baskets, and everything else. The unmarried ones had metal arrows fastening their back hair, which was neatly braided; and each one gave a cheery smile to the sentinels in passing.

.

They looked to be very cheery, bonnie young ladies.

Many little things strike you on walking through a German town. The numerous stalls, for instance, at every corner, where bread, vegetables, fruit, pastry, and cakes are sold at the cheapest rate. Then the brunnen, or pumps, give the German servants such opportunities of gossiping as they never get in England. What would you say, Mistress Edith, if cook couldn't get a drop of water without going to the bottom of the street for it? This is the case here. You see clusters of maids round every brunnen, resting their pails on the stone-work enclosing it, and chatting away as fast as their tongues can go. By-and-bye one makes a movement, up rise the water-tubs to their heads, and in

companies of twos and threes they return to their abodes. The shops too are managed differently to ours. If you want to buy a dress, you tell the shopman of what colour and material you desire it to be, on which he hauls down a cumbersome book as large as a parish register. Here are pasted, according to shade and price, patterns of every dress in their possession; after turning over a leaf or two, you are sure to come to the variety of the genus you want. It spares the shopman a good deal of trouble. How often, in England, papa has bought Jessie the ugliest frock in the world, because he did not like to trouble Mr. Brothers' assistants to get out so many kinds!

I wish I could draw you some carts and baskets that I saw to-day. The former are just like hay-racks set on wheels, or the inverted framework of a roof before the tiles are overlaid; the cows that draw them "make music wherever they go," having bells, not on their toes, but on their harness.

The baskets remind you of Brobdignag strawberry pottles, only that they are rounder in their extremities. Fancy these strapped to men's backs, full of ducks and chickens, the most enterprising of which scramble to the top and peep out ! Thus poultry is brought to market, instead of being packed in pony and donkey-carts, as with us. I daresay intelligent quacklers like the German mode best, as thereby they can see something of the world en passant.

I know that you feel more interest in hearing of people than of places, yet I am in duty bound to describe Coblentz before leaving it.

Imprimis, it is one of Uncle John's "fifty." He has therefore with much joy cut another notch in his Drusus