six to eight in
the morning
From Prague we travelled to Nuremberg , through Carlsbad . Good Germans , when they die , go , they say , to Carlsbad , as good Americans to Paris . This I doubt , seeing that it is a small place with no convenience for a crowd . In Carlsbad , you rise at five , the fashionable hour for promenade , when the band plays under the Colonnade , and the Sprudel is filled with a packed throng over a mile long , being from six to eight in the morning . Here you may hear more languages spoken than the Tower of Babel could have echoed . Polish Jews and Russian princes , Chinese mandarins and Turkish pashas , Norwegians looking as if they had stepped out of Ibsen 's plays , women from the Boulevards , Spanish grandees and English countesses , mountaineers from Montenegro and millionaires from Chicago , you will find every dozen yards . Every luxury in the world Carlsbad provides for its visitors , with the one exception of pepper .