Some of them go, with wife and children, to a beer hall and sit quietly and genteelly drinking a mug or two of ale and listening to music; others walk the streets, others drive in the avenues; others assemble in the great ornamental squares in the early evening to enjoy the sight and the fragrance of flowers and to hear the military bands play--no European city being without its fine military music at eventide; and yet others of the populace sit in the open air in front of the refreshment houses and eat ices and drink mild beverages that could not harm a child.

They go to bed moderately early, and sleep well.

They are always quiet, always orderly, always cheerful, comfortable, and appreciative of life and its manifold blessings.

One never sees a drunken man among them.

The change that has come over our little party is surprising.