three o'clock in the afternoon
From Baden , about which it need only be said that it is a pleasure resort singularly like other pleasure resorts of the same description , we started bicycling in earnest . We planned a ten days ' tour , which , while completing the Black Forest , should include a spin down the Donau-Thal , which for the twenty miles from Tuttlingen to Sigmaringen is , perhaps , the finest valley in Germany ; the Danube stream here winding its narrow way past old-world unspoilt villages ; past ancient monasteries , nestling in green pastures , where still the bare-footed and bare-headed friar , his rope girdle tight about his loins , shepherds , with crook in hand , his sheep upon the hill sides ; through rocky woods ; between sheer walls of cliff , whose every towering crag stands crowned with ruined fortress , church , or castle ; together with a blick at the Vosges mountains , where half the population is bitterly pained if you speak to them in French , the other half being insulted when you address them in German , and the whole indignantly contemptuous at the first sound of English ; a state of things that renders conversation with the stranger somewhat nervous work . We did not succeed in carrying out our programme in its entirety , for the reason that human performance lags ever behind human intention . It is easy to say and believe at three o'clock in the afternoon that : `` We will rise at five , breakfast lightly at half-past , and start away at six . '' `` Then we shall be well on our way before the heat of the day sets in , '' remarks one . `` This time of the year , the early morning is really the best part of the day . Do n't you think so ? ''