GLIMPSES OF WESTERN EUROPE. 
128 
scienists of modern or medieval times. The institution was founded over 
600 years ago by Elector Rupert I. Its library numbers nearly a quarter of 
a million of books and 2,000 valuable MSS. The University embraces not 
only theological, medical and law departments, but likewise includes a School 
of Agriculture and Forestry—in which, however, the instruction is rather be¬ 
hind the times. 
The town itself is barely worth looking at; at least, its two or three prin¬ 
cipal streets, lined with old, dingy, and rather slipshod stores, workshops and 
saloons, do not fo impress me as to awaken much enthusiasm. To-day, that which 
interests me most is the query as to how the people subsist. Literally speak¬ 
ing, the question is easily enough settled, for at any hour of the day, and at 
almost any hour of the night, not less than about one half of the entire pop¬ 
ulation may be seen in the numerous restaurants, demonstrating their res¬ 
pective capacities for beer! But, unlike the Yankee, who slides into the 
whiskey shop, swallows his poison, and then either goes out to his business or 
staggers into the gutter, the Germans sit over their beer for hours at a time, 
jabbering, playing at games of chance, and smoking their monstrous pipes. 
The question of how they secure the means to live is, therefore, still in doubt, 
being but partially solved by the discovery that they live much more simply 
and inexpensively than do the people of America. One moderate roll of 
hard-baked bread and a few quarts of beer is ample satisfaction for a full 
meal here, while the Yankee must have three kinds of meat, other things in 
proportion, and five courses of pastry and knick-knacks to finish off with. 
The true mode of living lies between these two extremes. If people will 
drink beer, and may be allowed to congratulate themselves on a superior 
quality of that article, then blessed are these Germans, for no better beer 
ever flowed into the bottomless pit of the most lucky Teutonic stomach than 
is perpetually foaming in the great liberal mugs of this beer-making and 
beer-drinking city. ******* 
At length we approach Frankfort. The city of all others in Germany re¬ 
markable for its historic associations. It was here where, for many years, 
the Emperors of Germany were crowned—where the greatest of German 
poets, Goethe, was born—where the immortal Luther, the world’s greatest 
reformer, lived and wrote—and it is here where that peculiar enterprise, so 
characteristic of the American people, has made its way more effectually 
than in any part of the continent I have yet seen. The streets, the archi¬ 
tecture of the more recent buildings, the sale-shops and public houses constant¬ 
ly suggest, to the American traveler. New York and other cities of the United 
State. It is a free town, with 70,000 inhabitants, and the seat of the German 
Diet. The evening shades close around me, and yet I have visited none of the 
distinguished public buildings, none of the fine promenades so characteristic 
of Frankfort, none of the several private residences remarkable for their as¬ 
sociation with some of the greatest men of the dead past; I have thus far 
endeavored simply to gain a general idea of the city as a whole. But the 
streets are bright with the light of burning gas, and I must improve the 
hours between this and midnight, for in the early morning I turn my face 
westward. ****** 
Have seen the Domkirche, where the Emperors of aneient Germany were 
crowned (a fine old cathedral, the last remaining specimen of the ancient 
German style of architecture); have walked round and round the monuments 
of Goethe and Guttenberg in the Hop Market; have stood before the modest 
old two-story mansion in the Hirschgraben, where Goethe was born, and 
thought of the wonderful sway of Poetry over the human mind in all genera¬ 
tions; have sought out the quaint old house of Luther, with its three stories 
and high steep roof, each story so projecting over the narrow street that one 
could almost shake hands with his third-story neighbor on the opposite side ; 
paused at the dwelling in the Judenstrasse where Rothschild and his children 
were born, and at the present counting house of Rothschild, ruler of all the 
money kings and dictator to the thrones of Europe; have lunched and slept, 
and am now on my way down the picturesque valley of the Main and through 
the famous vineyards of Hocheim, source of the popular Hock wines, to 
Mayence, on the Rhine. 
