I think it must be months
before some of them quit panting, and certainly their poor, misused
feet can never again be the feet they were.
With them adherence to the time card is everything. If a look at
the calendar shows the day to be Monday, they know they are in
Munich, and as they lope along they get out their guidebooks and
study the chapters devoted to Munich. But if it be Tuesday, then
it is Dresden, and they give their attention to literature dealing
with the attractions of Dresden; seeing Dresden after the fashion
of one sitting before a runaway moving picture film.
Then they pack up and depart, galloping, for Prague with their
tongues hanging out. For Wednesday is Prague and Prague is Wednesday
--the two words are synonymous and interchangeable. Surely to
such as these, the places they have visited must mean as much to
them, afterward, as the labels upon their trunks mean to the trunks
--just flimsy names pasted on, all confused and overlapping, and
certain to be scraped off in time, leaving nothing but faint marks
upon an indurated surface.
There is yet again another type, always of the female gender and
generally middle-aged and very schoolteacherish in aspect, who,
in company with a group of kindred spirits, is viewing Europe under
a contract arrangement by which a worn and wearied-looking gentleman,
a retired clergyman usually, acts as escort and mentor for a given
price.
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