It is alleged, and not without reason, that the people of Vienna are rather too fond of good cheer. This is a general propensity of all classes; so that those whose means will not permit them to have delicacies are sure to indemnify themselves by the abundance of their viands. The lower ranks always mingle with this indulgence a fondness for other amusements, such as dancing and walking. The tradesman of the capital takes great delight on a Sunday in a little country excursion with his family; and as the parks of the grandees are open to all comers, these are generally the places of rendezvous. He also frequents the Prater and the public places of the metropolis; he looks and listens with interest to all that passes, provided he is not watched; for instead of wishing, like a Frenchman, for instance, to attract attention, he feels uncomfortable as soon as he is noticed. His whole happiness centres in himself and his numerous family, from which he never likes to be parted. This picture of the happiness of the people of Vienna is the more pleasing since it is not chequered, as in most of the great cities of Europe, with the appearance of squalid misery. In fact you can there distinguish but two classes, the nobles and the citizens; all below them being blended by a certain degree of luxury and ease with the latter. In winter, companies do not assemble about the stoves as round our fire-places. The equable heat diffused by these stoves admits of their breaking into groups in the different apartments, which thus assume the appearance of a coffee-house. Servants in party-coloured liveries hand round all sorts of refreshments and sometimes the mistress of the house does the honours of it herself with an engaging attention that charms a stranger. In general, however, she takes this duty on herself only when she wishes to honour in a particular manner persons of distinction or eminent travellers; at other times, leaving every visitor to amuse himself as he pleases. In these societies, you observe numbers of ribbons of all colours, and chamberlains’ keys at all pockets; these distinctions are so common that a person who has none is almost a singularity. What renders these companies rather irksome is the practice which prevails of not calling any one by his name but only by his title. Thus you hear the persons about you greeted by the appellations of baron, director, inspector, captain, duke, or general; and remain ignorant of their real names unless some friend takes the trouble to tell you who they are.