Happily, though, we came in good season for the green filbert,
which is gathered in the fall of the year, being known then as the
Kentish cobnut. The Kentish cob beats any nut we have except the
paper-shell pecan. The English postage stamp is also much tastier
than ours. The space for licking is no larger, if as large--but
the flavor lasts.
As I said before, the Englishman has no great variety of things
to eat, but he is always eating them; and when he is not eating
them he is swigging tea. Yet in these regards the German excels
him. The Englishman gains a lap at breakfast; but after that first
hour the German leaves him, hopelessly distanced, far in the rear.
It is due to his talents in this respect that the average Berliner
has a double chin running all the way round, and four rolls of fat
on the back of his neck, all closely clipped and shaved, so as to
bring out their full beauty and symmetry, and a figure that makes
him look as though an earthquake had shaken loose everything on
the top floor and it all fell through into his dining room.
Your true Berliner eats his regular daily meals--four in number
and all large ones; and in between times he now and then gathers
a bite. For instance, about ten o'clock in the morning he knocks
off for an hour and has a few cups of hard-boiled coffee and some
sweet, sticky pastry with whipped cream on it.
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