How curious again, is the meeting of nations that labour and enjoy! In
Paris, the Germans and the English are more numerous than any other
foreigners. The former toil, drudge, save their littles to make a
meikle. The latter, whatever they may be at home, are, in Paris,
generally loungers and consumers of the fruits of the earth. The
Hungarian's errand in Vienna is to spend money: the Italian's to make
it. The Hungarian, A.B., is one of the squirearchy of his country,
whose name is legion, or a military man, whiling away his furlough
amid the excitements of a gay capital. The Italian, C.D., is a
painter, a sculptor, a musician, or an employe; and there is scarcely
to be found an idle man among the twenty thousand of his
fellow-countrymen, who inhabit the metropolis.
The Hungarian nobility, of the higher class, are, in appearance and
habits, completely identified with their German brethren; but it is in
the middle nobility that we recognize the swarthy complexion, the
haughty air and features, more or less of a Mongolian cast. The
Hungarians and native Germans are mutually proud of each other, and
mutually dislike each other.
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