CHAPTER XXI.
[Insolent Shopkeepers and Gabbling Americans] Baden-Baden sits in the lap of the hills, and the natural and artificial beauties of the surroundings are combined effectively and charmingly.
The level strip of ground which stretches through and beyond the town is laid out in handsome pleasure grounds, shaded by noble trees and adorned at intervals with lofty and sparkling fountain-jets.

Thrice a day a fine band makes music in the public promenade before the Conversation House, and in the afternoon and evening that locality is populous with fashionably dressed people of both sexes, who march back and forth past the great music-stand and look very much bored, though they make a show of feeling otherwise.

It seems like a rather aimless and stupid existence.

A good many of these people are there for a real purpose, however; they are racked with rheumatism, and they are there to stew it out in the hot baths.

These invalids looked melancholy enough, limping about on their canes and crutches, and apparently brooding over all sorts of cheerless things.