ABSTRACT
The journey from Nuremburg by cross-country train was long and tedious and occupied a matter of many hours. I was too weary to sleep when I reached the Saxon capital, and after registering at an hotel suitably near the main station I wandered down the broad boulevards to the historic market-square of the city. Although it was in the region of midnight, there were lights everywhere and the big cafés and restaurants were filled with men and women sitting over plates of sausages and enormous mugs of beer. I understood later. It was a Saturday evening and a day of feasting. On Sundays the people of Dresden put on their Sunday best and wander about the streets in solemn companies of six or seven: and smile not. Only a very limited number of places of entertainment are open before the late hours of the Sabbath afternoon. They even close the museums and picture galleries at midday, and attendance at the beautiful State opera house is looked upon as a cross between a penance and a tribute to music and the local opera company, of which the people of Dresden are inordinately proud. But on Saturday evening there is laughter and rejoicing, and if anyone doubts that laughter and rejoicing are non-existent in latter-day Germany I would recommend him to happen on Dresden by a night train and wander where he will in the middle portion of the city.
