Outside of the counts and the taxicabs, and the food in Germany, I found in all Europe just one real overpowering bargain—­and that was in Naples, where, as a general thing, bargains are not what they seem.  For the exceedingly moderate outlay of one lira—­Italian —­or twenty cents—­American—­I secured this combination, to wit, as follows: 

In the background old Vesuvius, like a wicked, fallen angel, wearing his plumy, fumy halo of sulphurous hell-smoke; in the middle distance the Bay of Naples, each larcenous wave-crest in it triple-plated with silvern glory pilfered from a splendid moon; on the left the riding lights of a visiting squadron of American warships; on the right the myriad slanted sails of the coral-fishers’ boats, beating out toward Capri, with the curlew-calls of the fishermen floating back in shrill snatches to meet a jangle of bell and bugle from the fleet; in the immediate foreground a competent and accomplished family troupe of six Neapolitan troubadours —­men, women and children—­some of them playing guitars and all six of them, with fine mellow voices and tremendous dramatic effect, singing—­the words being Italian but the air good American—­John Brown’s Body Lies a-Moldering in the Grave!

I defy you to get more than that for twenty cents anywhere in the world!

Chapter XII

Night Life—­with the Life Part Missing

In our consideration of this topic we come first to the night life of the English.  They have none.

Passing along to the next subject under the same heading, which is the night life of Paris, we find here so much night life, of such a delightfully transparent and counterfeit character; so much made-to-measure deviltry; so many members of the Madcaps’ Union engaged on piece-work; so much delicious, hoydenish derring-do, all carefully stage-managed and expertly timed for the benefit of North and South American spenders, to the end that the deliriousness shall abate automatically in exact proportion as the spenders quit spending—­in short, so much of what is typically Parisian that, really Paris, on its merits, is entitled to a couple of chapters of its own.

All of which naturally brings us to the two remaining great cities of Mid-Europe—­Berlin and Vienna—­and leads us to the inevitable conclusion that the Europeans, in common with all other peoples on the earth, only succeed—­when they try to be desperately wicked —­in being desperately dull; whereas when they seek their pleasures in a natural manner they present racial slants and angles that are very interesting to observe and very pleasant to have a hand in.

Take the Germans now:  No less astute a world traveler than Samuel G. Blythe is sponsor for the assertion that the Berliners follow the night-life route because the Kaiser found his capital did not attract the tourist types to the extent he had hoped, and so decreed that his faithful and devoted subjects, leaving their cozy hearths and inglenooks, should go forth at the hour when graveyards yawn —­and who could blame them?—­to spend the dragging time until dawn in being merry and bright.  So saying His Majesty went to bed, leaving them to work while he slept.