three men on the bummel-第34章

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treated　and　over…worked；　but　in　Germany；　never。　　Germans　abuse
animals　shockingly。　　I　have　seen　a　German　stand　in　front　of　his
horse　and　call　it　every　name　he　could　lay　his　tongue　to。　　But　the
horse　did　not　mind　it。　　I　have　seen　a　German；　weary　with　abusing
his　horse；　call　to　his　wife　to　come　out　and　assist　him。　　When　she
came；　he　told　her　what　the　horse　had　done。　　The　recital　roused　the
woman's　temper　to　almost　equal　heat　with　his　own；　and　standing　one
each　side　of　the　poor　beast；　they　both　abused　it。　　They　abused　its
dead　mother；　they　insulted　its　father；　they　made　cutting　remarks
about　its　personal　appearance；　its　intelligence；　its　moral　sense；
its　general　ability　as　a　horse。　　The　animal　bore　the　torrent　with
exemplary　patience　for　awhile；　then　it　did　the　best　thing　possible
to　do　under　the　circumstances。　　Without　losing　its　own　temper；　it
moved　quietly　away。　　The　lady　returned　to　her　washing；　and　the　man
followed　it　up　the　street；　still　abusing　it。

A　kinder…hearted　people　than　the　Germans　there　is　no　need　for。
Cruelty　to　animal　or　child　is　a　thing　almost　unknown　in　the　land。
The　whip　with　them　is　a　musical　instrument；　its　crack　is　heard　from
morning　to　night；　but　an　Italian　coachman　that　in　the　streets　of
Dresden　I　once　saw　use　it　was　very　nearly　lynched　by　the　indignant
crowd。　　Germany　is　the　only　country　in　Europe　where　the　traveller
can　settle　himself　comfortably　in　his　hired　carriage；　confident
that　his　gentle；　willing　friend　between　the　shafts　will　be　neither
over…worked　nor　cruelly　treated。



CHAPTER　XI



Black　Forest　House：　　and　the　sociability　thereinIts　perfume
George　positively　declines　to　remain　in　bed　after　four　o'clock　in
the　morningThe　road　one　cannot　missMy　peculiar　extra　instinct
An　ungrateful　partyHarris　as　a　scientistHis　cheery　confidence
The　village：　　where　it　was；　and　where　it　ought　to　have　been
George：　　his　planWe　promenade　a　la　FrancaisThe　German　coachman
asleep　and　awakeThe　man　who　spreads　the　English　language　abroad。

There　was　one　night　when；　tired　out　and　far　from　town　or　village；
we　slept　in　a　Black　Forest　farmhouse。　　The　great　charm　about　the
Black　Forest　house　is　its　sociability。　　The　cows　are　in　the　next
room；　the　horses　are　upstairs；　the　geese　and　ducks　are　in　the
kitchen；　while　the　pigs；　the　children；　and　the　chickens　live　all
over　the　place。

You　are　dressing；　when　you　hear　a　grunt　behind　you。

〃Good…morning！　　Don't　happen　to　have　any　potato　peelings　in　here？
No；　I　see　you　haven't；　good…bye。〃

Next　there　is　a　cackle；　and　you　see　the　neck　of　an　old　hen
stretched　round　the　corner。

〃Fine　morning；　isn't　it？　　You　don't　mind　my　bringing　this　worm　of
mine　in　here；　do　you？　　It　is　so　difficult　in　this　house　to　find　a
room　where　one　can　enjoy　one's　food　with　any　quietness。　　From　a
chicken　I　have　always　been　a　slow　eater；　and　when　a　dozenthere；　I
thought　they　wouldn't　leave　me　alone。　　Now　they'll　all　want　a　bit。
You　don't　mind　my　getting　on　the　bed；　do　you？　　Perhaps　here　they
won't　notice　me。〃

While　you　are　dressing　various　shock　heads　peer　in　at　the　door；
they　evidently　regard　the　room　as　a　temporary　menagerie。　　You
cannot　tell　whether　the　heads　belong　to　boys　or　girls；　you　can　only
hope　they　are　all　male。　　It　is　of　no　use　shutting　the　door；　because
there　is　nothing　to　fasten　it　by；　and　the　moment　you　are　gone　they
push　it　open　again。　　You　breakfast　as　the　Prodigal　Son　is　generally
represented　feeding：　　a　pig　or　two　drop　in　to　keep　you　company；　a
party　of　elderly　geese　criticise　you　from　the　door；　you　gather　from
their　whispers；　added　to　their　shocked　expression；　that　they　are
talking　scandal　about　you。　　Maybe　a　cow　will　condescend　to　give　a
glance　in。

This　Noah's　Ark　arrangement　it　is；　I　suppose；　that　gives　to　the
Black　Forest　home　its　distinctive　scent。　　It　is　not　a　scent　you　can
liken　to　any　one　thing。　　It　is　as　if　you　took　roses　and　Limburger
cheese　and　hair　oil；　some　heather　and　onions；　peaches　and　soapsuds；
together　with　a　dash　of　sea　air　and　a　corpse；　and　mixed　them　up
together。　　You　cannot　define　any　particular　odour；　but　you　feel
they　are　all　thereall　the　odours　that　the　world　has　yet
discovered。　　People　who　live　in　these　houses　are　fond　of　this
mixture。　　They　do　not　open　the　window　and　lose　any　of　it；　they　keep
it　carefully　bottled　up。　　If　you　want　any　other　scent；　you　can　go
outside　and　smell　the　wood　violets　and　the　pines；　inside　there　is
the　house；　and　after　a　while；　I　am　told；　you　get　used　to　it；　so
that　you　miss　it；　and　are　unable　to　go　to　sleep　in　any　other
atmosphere。

We　had　a　long　walk　before　us　the　next　day；　and　it　was　our　desire；
therefore；　to　get　up　early；　even　so　early　as　six　o'clock；　if　that
could　be　managed　without　disturbing　the　whole　household。　　We　put　it
to　our　hostess　whether　she　thought　this　could　be　done。　　She　said
she　thought　it　could。　　She　might　not　be　about　herself　at　that　time；
it　was　her　morning　for　going　into　the　town；　some　eight　miles　off；
and　she　rarely　got　back　much　before　seven；　but；　possibly；　her
husband　or　one　of　the　boys　would　be　returning　home　to　lunch　about
that　hour。　　Anyhow；　somebody　should　be　sent　back　to　wake　us　and　get
our　breakfast。

As　it　turned　out；　we　did　not　need　any　waking。　　We　got　up　at　four；
all　by　ourselves。　　We　got　up　at　four　in　order　to　get　away　from　the
noise　and　the　din　that　was　making　our　heads　ache。　　What　time　the
Black　Forest　peasant　rises　in　the　summer　time　I　am　unable　to　say；
to　us　they　appeared　to　be　getting　up　all　night。　　And　the　first
thing　the　Black　Forester　does　when　he　gets　up　is　to　put　on　a　pair
of　stout　boots　with　wooden　soles；　and　take　a　constitutional　round
the　house。　　Until　he　has　been　three　times　up　and　down　the　stairs；
he　does　not　feel　he　is　up。　　Once　fully　awake　himself；　the　next
thing　he　does　is　to　go　upstairs　to　the　stables；　and　wake　up　a
horse。　　（The　Black　Forest　house　being　built　generally　on　the　side
of　a　steep　hill；　the　ground　floor　is　at　the　top；　and　the　hay…loft
at　the　bottom。）　　Then　the　horse；　it　would　seem；　must　also　have　its
constitutional　round　the　house；　and　this　seen　to；　the　man　goes
downstairs　into　the　kitchen　and　begins　to　chop　wood；　and　when　he
has　chopped　sufficient　wood　he　feels　pleased　with　himself　and
begins　to　sing。　　All　things　considered；　we　came　to　the　conclusion
we　could　not　do　better　than　follow　the　excellent　example　set　us。
Even　George　was　quite　eager　to　get　up　that　morning。

We　had　a　frugal　breakfast　at　half…past　four；　and　started　away　at
five。　　Our　road　lay　over　a　mountain；　and　from　enquiries　made　in　the
village　it　appeared　to　be　one　of　those　roads　you　cannot　possibly
miss。　　I　suppose　everybody　knows　this　sort　of　road。　　Generally；　it
leads　you　back　to　where　you　started　from；　and　when　it　doesn't；　you
wish　it　did；　so　that　at　all　events　you　might　know　where　you　were。
I　foresaw　evil　from　the　very　first；　and　before　we　had　accomplished
a　couple　of　miles　we　came　up　with　it。　　The　road　divided　into　three。
A　worm…eaten　sign…post　indicated　that　the　path　to　the　left　led　to　a
place　that　we　had　never　heard　ofthat　was　on　no　map。　　Its　other
arm；　pointing　out　the　direction　of　the　middle　road；　had
disappeared。　　The　road　to　the　right；　so　we　all　agreed；　clearly　led
back　again　to　the　village。

〃The　old　man　said　distinctly；〃　so　Harris　reminded　us；　〃keep
straight　on　round　the　hill。〃

〃Which　hill？〃　George　asked；　pertinently。

We　were　confronted　by　half　a　dozen；　some　of　them　big；　some　of　them
little。

〃He　told　us；〃　continued　Harris；　〃that　we　should　come　to　a　wood。〃

〃I　see　no　reason　to　doubt　him；〃　commented　George；　〃whichever　road
we　take。〃

As　a　matter　of　fact；　a　dense　wood　covered　every　hill。

〃And　he　said；〃　murmured　Harris；　〃that　we　should　reach　the　top　in
about　an　hour　and　a　half。〃

〃There　it　is；〃　said　George；　〃that　I　begin　to　disbelieve　him。〃

〃Well；　what　shall　we　do？〃　said　Harris。

Now　I　happen　to　possess　the　bump　of　locality。　　It　is　not　a　virtue；
I　make　no　boast　of　it。　　It　is　merely　an　animal　instinct　that　I
cannot　help。　　That　things　occasionally　get　in　my　waymountains；
precipices；　rivers；　and　such　like　obstructionsis　no　fault　of
mine。　　My　instinct　is　correct　enough；　it　is　the　earth　that　is
wrong。　　I　led　them　by　the　middle　road。　　That　the　middle　road