"There is certainly a kind of simplicity about these Germans, which one does not see in America," I thought to myself, as I sat in ray friend's parlor, in a comfortable house, looking out over the Altster. It was the house of a man of fortune, a retired merchant; yet the whole, though bearing marks of a cultivated taste, showed a very remarkable plainness. The parlor in which I sat - a high, handsome room, with prettily-painted ceiling and tasteful papering - had no carpet. The furniture was plain; there was no grand display of gilt and crimson anywhere; and it was evident very little had been laid out on mere splendor. Yet one could not but notice how carefully even very common implements had been chosen with reference to grace of form. The candle-stands, the shade-lamps, and even the pitcher, or the common vase, had something exceedingly graceful and almost "classical" in their shape. The pictures on the walls or the table were not expensive - often mere sketches: yet they were very pleasant to look at, and had not been placed there, evidently, merely because "pictures must be hung in every respectable parlor." The groups of the daguerreotype showed the same traits; not formidable ranks of stiff forms, but easy groups around some animal, or in some natural position.

There were flowers, too, everywhere; and especially that most graceful of all flower-pots, which I have seen alone in Germany, though I believe it came from Italy, called the "Amyel." It is simply a half vase, very much like the old Grecian lamp, hung with cords from the ceiling, with some flowering vine in it, which twines and wreaths around it: yet the beauty of it all can hardly be imagined. Perhaps the only exception in this house to the general good taste, was the high white Berlin stove, looking like a porcelain tower with gilt battlements; but possibly one who is accustomed to our quiet, sombre machines, must need a little discipline to get used to these gay articles.

Nearly every house I have visited in Hamburg has been without carpets, though of course many are so only during the summer. One notices the same kind of simplicity everywhere. People do not spend as much money as those of the same rank would in America. Men of the higher classes travel in a way a gentleman would be ashamed to with us. In my mode of traveling I have gone much in the third-class cars and cheap conveyances, and I have been surprised at the respectable class of persons one finds in them, in company with the "Baner." Students, you know, in Germany always take the third-class cars. It was only the other day that, traveling in this way, I families of Germany, a personal friend of Chevalier Bunsen, who evidently thought it no more strange that he should economise by traveling with the peasants, than that he wore woolen instead of satin. I talked with him a little in regard to it, and he said he was thankful "there wore very few circles yet in Germany where poverty was a disgrace!" This gentleman meant to live in one of the principal cities of Prussia, and have, as he said, "all the pleasures of a gentleman," such as music, and the enjoyments of arts and society, for about $200 a year! And I am disposed to think, from all my observation, that throughout Europe the middle classes spend less money, and are contented to retire from business with less, than the same classes in our country.

Of course, when one comes to the higher classes no comparison can he made. But among the lawyers, and merchants, and literary men, there is much less money circulating, and it is made with considerable more difficulty; so that naturally there would be a difference in the spending of it. I have heard Americans sometimes call the Germans mean in money matters, but I think it has been from an ignorance or this fact. For certainly in all that belongs to hospitality, and kind, liberal treatment of strangers, they are beyond any people I have ever met. But the more I see them, and especially those of the cultivated classes, the more I am surprised at this trait I mentioned above - this simplicity, and this open-hearted good nature, or " Gutmuthigkeit," as they call it. For all these qualities are connected, and they certainly give an aspect to the German character which scarcely any other nation has. I have sometimes thought something of the same traits appeared in their literature, one finds so little subtle wit or humor in it; and when wit does appear, it is so broad or grotesque that one could hardly call it wit. For instance, no Punch could ever be sustained among the Germans at the present day; and I believe no satirist like either Swift or Dickens has ever appeared among them.

I am not disposed to attach quite as much value to this "good nature" of the Germans as I did once. It seems rather the result of circumstances than of any hard struggle with "bad nature." The nation has long been in a situation where they were shut out from many of the most absorbing and intense struggles of life; and their activity has expended itself very much on abstract subjects. They have become easy and good-natured because there was so little to disturb them. However, this is mere theorising, and may be taken for what it is worth.

We should remember in regard to the economy of the Germans, that it is not a mere atIt seems to be merely the choosing of one class of pleasures rather than another. The Haus-frau prefers being without an expensive carpet for the sake of having many tasteful objects around her, or that she may have more means for social company. The gentleman foes on the fore-deck of the steamboat, so that c may have more money for the next concert, or may be able to fill his library better.

There is very much in Hamburg which has interested me, beside the people. I had no idea from travels how much there was in it quaint and striking. The quiet old streets, like those of the Dutch cities, with canals and shade-trees, and fantastic gables on the houses, and rather anomalous statuary in the niches of the walls in the "old city," contrasting so strangely with the bustling, grand new streets. For you know about eight years ago a good part of Hamburg was burnt down, and this has all been built up in really a most splendid manner. I have seen no city in Europe whose business-streets make so fine an impression at first sight. Stone is very scarce here, so that nearly all the houses are built of brick, with a hard cement or stucco over. Either the climate is more favorable, or it is a much better cement than with us, out certainly the stuccoed houses look far better than in our cities. And it has afforded an opportunity for something which is extremely needed in our country, that is, giving to each bouse its own peculiar ornament. One becomes so heartily tired of those long rows of monotonous houses, exactly corresponding to each other, without an attempt at variety or character.