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sticks of wood； to mock the dreariness of their poverty with these
flaunting raiments。 It did not seem like them； or rather；
consistent with my idea of them。 There was incongruity deeper than
their bizarre externals； a half…melancholy； half…crazy absurdity in
their action； the substitution of a grim spasmodic frenzy for
levity； that rightly or wrongly impressed me。 When the increasing
gloom of the evening made their figures undistinguishable； I turned
into the first cross…street。 As I lifted my hat to my persistent
young friend with the Pritsche； I fancied she looked as relieved as
myself。 If； however； I was mistaken； if that child's pathway
through life be strewn with rosy recollections of the unresisting
back of the stranger American； if any burden； O Gretchen！ laid upon
thy young shoulders； be lighter for the trifling one thou didst lay
upon mine；know； then； that I； too； am content。
And so； day by day； has my Spion reflected the various changing
forms of life before it。 It has seen the first flush of spring in
the broad allee； when the shadows of tiny leaflets overhead were
beginning to checker the cool； square flagstones。 It has seen the
glare and fulness of summer sunshine and shadow； the flying of
November gold through the air； the gaunt limbs； and stark； rigid；
death…like whiteness of winter。 It has seen children in their
queer； wicker baby…carriages； old men and women； and occasionally
that grim usher of death； in sable cloak and cocked hat；a baleful
figure for the wandering invalid tourist to meet；who acts as
undertaker for this ducal city； and marshals the last melancholy
procession。 I well remember my first meeting with this ominous
functionary。 It was an early autumnal morning； so early； that the
long formal perspective of the allee； and the decorous； smooth
vanishing…lines of cream…and…gray fronted houses； were unrelieved
by a single human figure。 Suddenly a tall black spectre； as
theatrical and as unreal as the painted scenic distance； turned the
corner from a cross…street； and moved slowly towards me。 A long
black cloak； falling from its shoulders to its feet； floated out on
either side like sable wings； a cocked hat trimmed with crape； and
surmounted by a hearse…like feather； covered a passionless face；
and its eyes； looking neither left nor right； were fixed fatefully
upon some distant goal。 Stranger as I was to this Continental
ceremonial figure； there was no mistaking his functions as the grim
messenger； knocking 〃with equal foot〃 on every door； and； indeed；
so perfectly did he act and look his role； that there was nothing
ludicrous in the extraordinary spectacle。 Facial expression and
dignity of bearing were perfect； the whole man seemed saturated
with the accepted sentiment of his office。 Recalling the half…
confused and half…conscious ostentatious hypocrisy of the American
sexton； the shameless absurdities of the English mutes and
mourners； I could not help feeling； that； if it were demanded that
Grief and Fate should be personified； it were better that it should
be well done。 And it is one observation of my Spion； that this
sincerity and belief is the characteristic of all Continental
functionaries。
It is possible that my Spion has shown me little that is really
characteristic of the people； and the few observations I have made
I offer only as an illustration of the impressions made upon two…
thirds of American strangers in the larger towns of Germany。
Assimilation goes on more rapidly than we are led to imagine。 As I
have seen my friend Karl； fresh and awkward in his first uniform；
lounging later down the allee with the blase listlessness of a
full…blown militaire； so I have seen American and English residents
gradually lose their peculiarities； and melt and merge into the
general mass。 Returning to my Spion after a flying trip through
Belgium and France； as I look down the long perspective of the
Strasse； I am conscious of recalling the same style of architecture
and humanity at Aachen； Brussels； Lille； and Paris； and am inclined
to believe that； even as I would have met； in a journey of the same
distance through a parallel of the same latitude in America； a
greater diversity of type and character； and a more distinct flavor
of locality； even so would I have met a more heterogeneous and
picturesque display from a club window on Fifth Avenue； New York；
or Montgomery Street； San Francisco。
End