United States or Taiwan ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"You will take beer?" he added, drawing forward an iron chair for we were in the Brauerei Garden. "Thank you." "A doctor of medicine the Herr Professor tells me," he said pleasantly. "Prosit," he added, as he raised his great mug to his lips. "Prosit! Yes, a doctor of medicine of the army." "Ah, of the army, that is good. I also I hope, some day! And you come to pass our Gottingen examination.
Yes, but it is hard ach Gott! devilish hard." There was a restrained shyness about the man which I liked. Shy men are so rare. And, although he could have cleared the Brauerei Garden in five minutes, there was no bluster about this Teutonic Hercules. His loud, good-natured laugh was perhaps the most striking characteristic of Carl von Mendebach.
At the Hof Brauerei I once saw a newly arrived Englishman, carrying the usual red guidebook, quit the room for an instant, leaving uncovered his just acquired mass of beer. There came along a seedy-looking old gentleman, evidently a Stammgast. A gleam of satisfaction stole over his wooden features as he espied the open mug. Pausing a moment, he lifted it to his lips and slowly drank the contents.
For its dirt, its darkness, and its utter want of service, the Hof Brauerei is unequalled in the world, and nowhere else can be found such a mixed society. Entering the low-vaulted room, each one looks anxiously about for an empty mug. These are of gray stone, containing a mass, the price of which is seven and a half kreutzers. Spying one, he hastens to secure it from other competitors.
All the houses are old, and one feels upon entering it as if one had suddenly walked back into the middle ages. On the east side stands a time-gray, low, irregular building, resembling in architecture, or by its want of it, nothing of the present age. This is the royal Hof Brauerei.