THE CITY OF OONSTANZ.

365

Round about the town tliere was, of course, the usual beltof old ricketty rampart-walls and dried-up moats, set atintervals with rooflcss watch-towers, rotten drawbridges,and city-gates falling f'rom their hinges; whilst in front ofevery one of these a dapper little Baden soldier was to be seenpacing up and down, restless as a caged hyena, near Ins red-and-yellow-striped sentry-box — waiting anxiously, we sup-pose, for the Quixotic general, who was to coine and sack themouldy old place.

But though there seemed to be little or nothing doingwithin the town, still you were sure to find posted at eachof the city-gates a couple of big-cloaked and heavy-pipedcustoms' officers, intent on interfering and stopping even thelittle business that went on; and we can vouch for the interestthe offieials took in their work, for we ourselves saw themturn two infants out of a child's chaise, so as to be surethat the " go-cart" was not made a vehicle for smuggling.

Were it not for the morning patrol of milk-women, withtheir huge churn-like vessels strapped to their backs, or eisewith their monster tin-cans slung on a kind of velocipede, andwheeled before them through the streets; were it not, too, forone or two straggling hawkers of " new wine," with their cartsladen with hogsheads that are ornamented with bunchcs offlowers at the bung-hole; and now and then a stray peep at awatchmaker at work in some peddling jeweller's shop window,—were it not for such rare sights as these, we repeat, thevisitor would really imagine that Constanz was another Zur-zach, and that 110 business was transacted in the city out ofthe fair time.

This same new wine, by the by, requires a word or twofrom us, it being unknown in England. It is a decoction that,to look at, has much the appearance of " Soyer's Nectar,''