Bert. And how went Matters in your Chambers?

Will. Why, there was every where some pretty Lass or other, giggling and playing wanton Tricks?  They ask’d us if we had any foul Linnen to wash; which they wash and bring to us again:  In a word, we saw nothing there but young Lasses and Women, except in the Stable, and they would every now and then run in there too.  When you go away, they embrace ye, and part with you with as much Affection, as if you were their own Brothers, or near Kinsfolks.

Bert. This Mode perhaps may become the French, but methinks the Way of the Germans pleases me better, which is more manly.

Will. I never have seen Germany; therefore, pray don’t think much to tell how they entertain a Traveller.

Bert. I can’t tell whether the Method of entertaining be the same every where; but I’ll tell you what I saw there.  No Body bids a Guest welcome, lest he should seem to court his Guests to come to him, for that they look upon to be sordid and mean, and not becoming the German Gravity.  When you have called a good While at the Gate, at Length one puts his Head out of the Stove Window (for they commonly live in Stoves till Midsummer) like a Tortoise from under his Shell:  Him you must ask if you can have any Lodging there; if he does not say no, you may take it for granted, that there is Room for you.  When you ask where the Stable is, he points to it; there you may curry your Horse as you please yourself, for there is no Servant will put a Hand to it.  If it be a noted Inn, there is a Servant shews you the Stable, and a Place for your Horse, but incommodious enough; for they keep the best Places for those that shall come afterwards; especially for Noblemen.  If you find Fault with any Thing, they tell you presently, if you don’t like, look for another Inn.  In their Cities, they allow Hay, but very unwillingly and sparingly, and that is almost as dear as Oats.  When you have taken Care of your Horse, you come whole into the Stove, Boots, Baggage, Dirt and all, for that is a common Room for all Comers.

Will. In France, they appoint you a separate Chamber, where you may change your Cloaths, clean and warm your self, or take Rest if you have a Mind to it.

Bert. There’s nothing of that here.  In the Stove, you pull off your Boots, put on your Shoes, and if you will, change your Shirt, hang up your wet Cloths near the Stove Iron, and get near it to dry yourself.  There’s Water provided for you to wash your Hands, if you will; but as for the Cleanness of it, it is for the most Part such that you will want another Water to wash that off.

Will. I commend this Sort of People, that have nothing of Effeminacy in them.

Bert. If you come in at four a-Clock in the Afternoon, you must not go to Supper till nine, and sometimes not till ten.

Will. Why so?