The Prague Ghetto was one of the first to be established in Europe, and in the tiny synagogue, still standing, the Jew of Prague has worshipped for eight hundred years, his women folk devoutly listening, without, at the ear holes provided for them in the massive walls.

A Jewish cemetery adjacent, "Bethchajim, or the House of Life," seems as though it were bursting with its dead.

Within its narrow acre it was the law of centuries that here or nowhere must the bones of Israel rest.

So the worn and broken tombstones lie piled in close confusion, as though tossed and tumbled by the struggling host beneath.
The Ghetto walls have long been levelled, but the living Jews of Prague still cling to their foetid lanes, though these are being rapidly replaced by fine new streets that promise to eventually transform this quarter into the handsomest part of the town.
At Dresden they advised us not to talk German in Prague.

For years racial animosity between the German minority and the Czech majority has raged throughout Bohemia, and to be mistaken for a German in certain streets of Prague is inconvenient to a man whose staying powers in a race are not what once they were.