Page:McClure's Magazine volume 10.djvu/23

The sad-faced consumptives who swarm round the health resorts of Western America are not seen here; on the whole, the people who come here look healthy. The dreadful army of miserables who haunt the grotto at Lourdes are also not to be seen here. True, the priests go at the head of the procession on the first of May from spring to spring, blessing the water and thanking God for the goodness of these wondrous founts. But they look not for a miracle.

Some things appear a little inconsistent, and trying on the waters; and yet I know not that the visitors go away disappointed. For example, you will see a very happy married woman, fat and forty or forty-five, and a long, lank, lingering maiden, the two quaffing at the same well, and the one hoping to gain what the other longs to lose.

Hebrew Type

When you have taken rooms at a hotel, one of the employés will bring you a long printed form, which, if you fill out, will give the sheriff or any one interested in you a fair history, the length of your intended stay, your nationality and business. This form goes to the office of the Bürgermeister, and from it you are "sized up" and assessed in whatever class you appear to belong. Third-class visitors pay between one and two dollars the season; second, between two and three dollars; and first class, from three to four. Only Americans are always rated first class. They do not insist upon your staying there. By filing a personal protest you can have yourself placed in whatever class you claim to belong in.

And what becomes of the tax one pays into the city treasury?

First, you have the use of the water for three weeks or six months, and have also the pleasure of hearing good music while you take your medicine every morning. Part of this money goes to make and keep up the miles and miles of beautiful walks, to plant rare shrubs in the very forest, and to put boxes in the trees for the birds to build in, whose music cheers the thousands of strollers who throng these winding ways.

So, after all, the tax one pays to the municipality is very little, even if you are first class; and, as nearly every one leaves the place feeling better than when he arrived, there is no complaint.

"Are all the people cured who come here?" I asked Dr. Grünberger, who was medical inspector in the district for twenty years.

"Not all," he said. "But all who take the cure"—for the doctor who examines the patient will not allow him to take the water unless he has a disease curable by the Karlsbad treatment.

There are many doctors in Karlsbad, and they are largely responsible for the splendid reputation of the place. They are honest enough to tell the patient to go away if they believe his disease incurable by the use of the waters. The waiters in the hotels all know what you are allowed to eat; and when you ask for a tempting bit of pastry the girl will shake her head, smile pleasantly, and say: "That ish not gute for you." In fact, all the people appear to want you to get well and be happy, go away and eat bad things, and come again.

. . . German dandies . . .