the building in flames; which incident immediately reminded him--he being a German and a philosopher--of the excessive caution of the Englishman, which, under the most alarming circumstances, forbids his saying any thing stronger than "I believe," "I am afraid," "I dare say." Verily we "believe," we are "afraid," we "dare say," that Mr. Kohl is a most incorrigible twaddler. One more peculiarity remains to be told. They keep gigs in the marshes. There are "gentlemen" there as well as in England. Are there none elsewhere? The customs of the Ditmarschers could not fail to be interesting. That of the _Fenstern_ or _Windowing_ is romantic, and perilous to boot. At dead of night, when all good people are asleep, young gallants cross the marshes and downs for miles to visit the girls of their acquaintance, or it may be _the_ girl of fairest form and most attractions. Arrived at the house, they scale the walls, enter a window, and drop into the chamber of the lady, who lies muffled up to the chin on a bed of down, having taken care to leave a burning lamp on the table, and fire in the stove, that her nocturnal callers may have both light and warmth. Upon the entrance of her visitor, she politely asks him to be seated--his chair being placed at the distance of a few feet from the bed. They converse, and the conversation being brought to an end, the gallant takes his departure either by the door or window. Some opposition has been shown of late to this custom by a few over-scrupulous parents; but the fathers who are bold enough to put bolts on their doors or windows, are certain of meeting with reprisals from the gallants of the district. The _Fenstern_ is subject to certain laws and regulations, by which those who practise it are bound to abide. Another curious custom, and derived like the former from the heathen, was the dance performed at the churching of women up to the close of the last century--the woman herself wearing a green and a red stocking, and hopping upon one leg to church. The Friesic women are small and delicately formed: their skin, beautifully soft and white, is protected most carefully against the rough atmosphere by a mantle, which so completely covers the face, that both in winter and summer little can be seen beyond the eyes of the women encountered in the open streets. The generally sombre hue of the garments renders this muffling the more remarkable; for it is customary for the relatives of those who are at sea to wear mourning until the return of the adventurers. Skirt, boddice, apron, and kerchief, all are dark; and the cloth which so jealously screens the head and face from the sun and storm, is of the same melancholy hue.