The people of Munich, according to one of their most famous chroniclers, have always been noted for their piety ("Fromm waren die Muenchner zu jeder Zeit"), but they have never been celebrated for that virtue of cleanliness which is said to be akin to godliness:  indeed, they are known amongst other Bavarians as die dreckigen Muenchner ("the filthy Munichers"); and certain it is that their city is far behind the times in all sanitary matters.  The introduction of sewers is a very recent improvement.  It will scarcely be believed that many of the broad, showy streets which came into existence under the patronage of Ludwig I. were laid out and built up without any reference to this first necessity of all thoroughfares.  Even the Theresien Strasse has not long rejoiced in a “canal;” and the sewer was laid in that finest part of the Gabelsberger Strasse which runs past the Pinakothek and the Polytechnic School as late as the summer of 1873, while the upper end of the same street, which is notoriously unhealthy, is still unpaved and undrained.  The Munich sewers, however, are not so great a boon as one might suppose:  indeed, they may be considered as mere receptacles and condensers of the evil substances and odors that would be promiscuously diffused.  Owing to a want of knowledge or of skill in their construction there is not sufficient fall to carry away their contents, nor is there any system of flushing to drive out the sediment and cleanse the pipes.  Consequently, there is a horrible odor ascending at all times from the open gratings, and frequently the pipes become choked, so as to necessitate the uncovering of the receptacle at a junction, and the taking out and carting away of the hideous slime—­an operation which, of course, adds temporary intensity to the usual stench.

Another source of polluted air is the cellars of a great proportion of the houses.  Of course the families living in the several flats of each building are all dependent upon one cellar, which is divided off into compartments according to the number of stories in the house.  These compartments, however, are in many instances separated from each other by a mere partition of laths or rough boards, so that any want of cleanliness on the part of an individual house-keeper is sure to disturb all her neighbors.  Owing to the custom of allowing small shops to be kept in the ground-floor of dwelling-houses there is apt to be a mingling of articles for storage in the cellar such as is neither agreeable nor wholesome.  Thus, for instance, a dairywoman will fill the shelves of her compartment with pans of milk:  her next neighbor is perhaps a small dealer in wood, coal and turf, and raises a dust accordingly; the greengrocer opposite makes the air damp and bitter with his heaps of neglected vegetables; while the butcher not only has a right to hang up his newly-slaughtered animals and chop his sausage-meat inside of his particular compartment, but may allow a living pig or calf, whose death-hour