THE TOWN OF MANY GABLES 



109 



grateful ; but I am not sure that we were. 

 Did we think longingly of the quiet, lux- 

 urious caravansary at the station? Per- 

 haps so. One always has to choose, in 

 the smaller European towns at least, be- 

 tween the luxuries of the "best" hotel, 

 with remoteness from the Schensivilrdig- 

 keiten (objects of interest), and the 

 quaintness in situation or structure of its 

 older inns, with a walk to the station. 



NEW HOTELS AND OLD ONES 



Of course, there are usually omni- 

 busses, carriages, even occasionally mo- 

 tor-busses and taxicabs, to bridge the dis- 

 tances. The newest and finest hotels are 

 usually built close to the station, upon 

 that ring promenade, very likely, where 

 once was the city's wall and beyond 

 which the railroads never intrude ; but 

 the older inns cluster in the center about 

 the market-places ; old guild-houses some- 

 times, occasionally ancient palaces, oft- 

 ener yet the town's ancient hospice, en- 

 tertaining travelers since the days of 

 pilgrimage and crusade. 



While less luxurious than the newer 

 houses, they are in themselves vastly 

 more interesting, while their windows, 

 small though they may be, look down 

 upon livelier scenes than even the path 

 to a railway station may offer. No ele- 

 mental quaintness nor fragrant history 

 lingers, however, about this particular 

 hostelry upon Mi^inster's Markt ; neither 

 does it house any of the discomforts of 

 primitive times or inns. Less picturesque 

 than many an other, it compensates with 

 great comfort, and perhaps that noisy 

 evening we were more pleased to observe 

 its thoroughly modern furnishings than 

 disappointed in its lack of "medieval at- 

 mosphere." 



So comfortable were we that, in spite 

 of noise from steam-piano, carrousel, 

 horn, whistle, and drum ; in spite of the 

 glare of thousands of lights just beyond 

 our broad windows, we soon fell asleep. 



STREET-CLEANING DONE PROMPTLY 



Sunday morning dawned with wet 

 streets and threatening skies. We went 

 out upon our balcony and looked up and 

 down the silent street. Had we dreamt 

 all the noise and gaiety of the night? 

 The pavements, shining with wet reflec- 



tions, were clean ; no trace of litter, no 

 peanut shells, no fruit rinds, no tattered 

 ribbons or crushed flowers, such as usu- 

 ally remain for hours upon home streets 

 after an outdoor festival, were anywhere 

 visible. Either Miinster does its street- 

 cleaning promptly or keeps its streets 

 clean. 



The Prinzipal Markt, upon which our 

 windows opened, is not, as its name sug- 

 gests, a great open square, but an arcaded 

 street, one link in a chain of curving 

 streets and markets, which incloses the 

 cathedral, the university, and other an- 

 cient buildings. 



To the right we see the tall, delicate 

 tower of the Lamberti Kirche thrust for- 

 ward where the Roggenmarkt turns out 

 of sight behind the tall gables. To the 

 left, beyond the jutting balcon}^ of the an- 

 cient weigh-house, the Rotenburg curves 

 from view — a jumble of steep gray gables 

 and scarlet roofs. We cannot decide 

 which way lies the lovlier picture. 



SUNDAY MORNING STILLNESS 



The city is very quiet. A few early 

 church-goers hurry under cover of the 

 arcades to the cathedral or to St. Lam- 

 bert's. A little girl trips by, in her arms 

 a loaf of bread almost as long as herself. 

 A small detachment of soldiers go down 

 the center of the street with loftg, quick 

 strides, turn a corner, and are gone. In 

 the middle of the open space before the 

 church a dog sits, yawning dismally. Is 

 this all the "liveliness of the market- 

 place" that we came to see? Miinster 

 sleeps late after its revels of the night, 

 just gone. 



Across the way are some charming 

 houses, four or five stories tall, gray and 

 gabled ; some frankly old, other mani- 

 festly "restored." The ground floor is a 

 shop, but the upper stories of the house 

 extend above the pavement, resting upon 

 pillars and arches ; the effect is very 

 pleasing to the eye, and in stormy 

 weather the arcade is, for foot-farers, a 

 great comfort. Watching one's neigh- 

 bors is deplorable ; only a showery morn- 

 ing in a strange town can pardon such 

 lapse of good manners ; any one too sen- 

 sitive about such matters must not read 

 the next lines. 



