Germans, driven from the residences of princes, have taken refuge at the _Brunnens_, where they have established the democracy of high life—the cosmopolitism of education and good breeding, and the individual independence which is sometimes in vain sought in other commonwealths! I will give here, by way of example, a short description of the principal advantages of Baden-Baden—deservedly the most fashionable watering-place now in Europe—to show what a fashionable resort of that land can be made; and of what improvements our own are capable, if people had a mind to be free and easy, at least as long as the thermometer ranges from eighty to a hundred. I shall not trouble my readers with a description of the various routes that lead to Baden from Paris, London, or any other place they choose to start from. They will find it laid down on every map of Germany, not far from Strasburg and the Rhine, and the postillions in their high-boots, leather inexpressibles, short-jackets and glazed hats, with bright brass bugles dangling to their sides, on which they often charm their horses and annoy their English passengers, are so accustomed to the road that they are sure to carry you there within the time prescribed by law, (4 miles to the hour,) if you will promise not to disappoint them with the _drink-geld_. A German postillion gets money merely for drink, and hence his _douceur_ is called drink-money—the English translation of the above idiom. This only I will say: that if you take the rail-road from Carlsruhe to Baden-Baden, you have already a foretaste of the comforts that await you. Of course you take first class cars, balanced on extra steel springs, where, stretched on a rose-wood sofa, carved _à la Renaissance_, with a large looking-glass before you, and an elegant table between, you may either read, take notes, take a collation or enjoy an agreeable _tête-à-tête_, as taste or opportunity may prompt you. These cars are never crowded, and you are in them as in a lady’s _boudoir_, treading softly on the carpet. Instead of the shrill whistle, the hunter’s, respectively the postillion’s bugle, apprises you of your arrival, the door is opened, and the conductor, doffing his cap with the Grand Ducal arms, informs you that you have reached the place of your destination. There is no trouble about the luggage, which is all marked and registered, and sent to your hotel by the _agents of the road_, for another _drink-geld_, regulated by a tariff.