Three men on wheels

'-

GIFT OF

We will take a bicycle tour

Three Men on Wheels

By Jerome K. Jerome

Author of "Three Men in a Boat," "Idle Thoughts of an

Idle Fellow," " Second Thoughts of an Idle

Fellow," etc., etc.

With Illustrations by Harrison Fisher

New York
Dodd, Mead and Company

1900

Copyright, i8qg, by Jerome K. Jerome, in the
Saturday Evening Post as " Three Men on Four
Wheels ' ' ,• Copyright, igoo, by Jerome K. Jerome

UNIVERSITY PRESS • JOHN WILSON
AND SON • CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.

Contents

Page

I. FIRST CHAPTER .......... I

II. THE SUBJUGATION OF ETHELBERTHA . . . . 22

III. THE BICYCLE DOCTOR OF FOLKESTONE ... 42

IV. THE AWAKENING AT BEGGARBUSH ..... 61
V. THE UNIVERSAL EDUCATOR ....... 86

VI. AN AQUATIC ADVENTURE AT HAMBURG . . . no

VII. HARRIS GOES SHOPPING ........ 133

VIII. THE REGENERATION OF GEORGE ..... 151

IX. IN THE TOILS OF THE GERMAN LAW . . . 174

X. THE WAYS OF THE GERMAN DOG . . . . 199

XI. LOST IN THE BLACK FOREST . . . . . . 218

XII. THE- SLAVE OF THE BRICK ....... 239

XIII. How GERMAN STUDENTS AMUSE THEMSELVES . 258

XIV. BACK TO ETHELBERTHA . 281

^72135

Illustrations

Page
" 'We will take a bicycle tour* ' .... Frontispiece

" Mrs. Harris put her head in " ....... 3

"I said, ' Captain Goyles, tell me frankly ; what is this

thing I have hired ? ' ' 17

" 'I opened the ball with Ethelbertha" 22

" I met Harris at the club " 29

George 46

" Ethelbertha came out " 53

" Then he lost his temper and tried bullying the thing " 55

" The door is being held ajar'* 65

" She bleated : ' G-o-o-d, g-o-o-o-d, ind-e-e-e-d ! ' " . 72

" We walked up to a hansom " 79

" George explained that he wished to purchase a cap " . 84
" Our office-boy was responsible for our Wit and Hu-
mour" 94

" 'I really don't see that it is our fault' " 97

"'Come,' urged the Professor " 103

"'What a much better method than ours' " . . . . 121

" Proceeded to sweep the compass with that hose " . . 124

"The horse said, ' Gott in Himmel ! ' " i 29

" ' But maybe I am misjudging the country ' " . . . 134

vii

Illustrations

Page

" The Germans are very fond of dogs, but as a rule they

prefer them of china" • '..«, 137

" 'Stood up on tip-toe and kissed me ' " 149

"I turned my head and saw the travelling Britisher " . 153

Our Guide 161

" We walked him around that statue four times " . . 166

" The man stopped Harris" 175

" ' Where did you get it from ? ' " ... . . . 177

" He bombarded the spot" . . . . . ... 189

'"Don't you two fellows over-exert yourselves on my

account ' ' ' 204

" ' I was looking at one on a hoarding ' ' .... 20^

" They both abused it " . 215

" You are dressing when you hear a grunt " . . . . 219

" Began turning himself round and round " .... 224

" ' This is the best view we 've had of it as yet ' " . . 229

" 'Won't you come inside ? ' : 243

"He carried a brick in his hand " 245

"Seeking to catch, not the dog, but the remaining pig" 249

"A crowd of students laughing, smoking, talking" . . 262

"We were in the garden of Kaiser Hof " . . . . 281

" He is worshipped as a little god " 283

" Told to go and hang himself " 289

via

Three Men on
Wheels

I. — FIRST CHAPTER

WHAT we want," said Harris, " is
a change."
At this moment the door
Dpened and Mrs. Harris put her
head in to say that Ethelbertha
had sent her to remind me that we must not be
late getting home, because of Clarence. Ethel-
bertha, I am inclined to think, is unnecessarily
nervous about the children. As a matter of fact,
there was nothing wrong with the child whatever.
He had been out with his aunt that morning,
and if he looks wistfully at a pastry cook's win-
dow she takes him inside and buys him cream
buns and "maids of honour0 until he insists
that he has had enough and politely but firmly
refuses to eat another anything. Then, of
course, he wants only one helping of pudding
at lunch, and Ethelbertha thinks he is sickening
for something. Mrs. Harris added that it would
be as well for us to come upstairs soon on our
own account also, as otherwise we should miss
Muriel's rendering of the Mad Hatter's Tea-
Party out of Alice in Wonderland. Muriel is
Harris' second, age eight; she is a bright, intelli-

Men on Wheels

gent child ; but I prefer her myself in serious
pieces. We said we would finish our cigarettes
and follow almost immediately; we also begged
her not to let Muriel begin until we arrived.
She promised to hold the child back as long as
possible, and went. Harris, as soon as the door
was closed, resumed his interrupted sentence.

"You know what I mean," he said. " A com-
plete change."

The question was, how to get it.

George suggested " business." It was the
sort of suggestion George would make. A bach-
elor thinks a married woman does n't know
enough to get out of the way of a steam roller ;
they bring them up that way. I knew a young
fellow once, an engineer, who thought he would
go to Vienna " on business/' His wife wanted
to know what business ; he told her it would
be his duty to visit the mines in the neighbour-
hood of the Austrian capital, and to make
reports. She said she would go with him : she
was that sort of woman. He tried to dissuade
her; he told her that a mine was no place for
a beautiful woman. She said she felt that
herself, and therefore she did not intend to
accompany him down the shafts ; she would see
him start in the morning, and then amuse her-
self until his return looking around the Vienna
shops and buying a few things she might want.
Having started the idea, he did not see very

First Chapter

well how to get out of it : and for ten long
summer days he did visit the mines in the

" Mrs. Harris put her head in "

neighbourhood of Vienna, and in the evening
wrote reports about them, which she posted
for him to his Firm, who did n't want them.

3

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

I should be grieved to think that either Ethel-
bertha or Mrs. Harris belonged to that class of
wife, but it is as well not to overdo " business " ;
it should be kept for cases of real emergency.

"No," I said, "the thing is to be frank and manly.
I shall tell Ethelbertha that I have come to the con-
clusion a man never values happiness that is always
with him. I shall tell her that for the sake of
learning to appreciate my own advantages as I know
they should be appreciated I intend to tear myself
away from her and the children for at least three
weeks. I shall tell her," I continued, turning to
Harris, "that it is you who have shown me my duty
in this respect ; that it is to you she will owe "

Harris put down his glass rather hurriedly.

" If you don't mind, old man," he said, " I 'd
really rather you did n't ; she '11 talk it over with
my wife — and — well, I should not be happy,
taking credit that I did not deserve."

" But you do deserve it," I insisted ; " it was
your suggestion."

" It was you who gave me the idea," inter-
rupted Harris again ; " you know you said it was
a mistake for a man to get into a groove — that
unbroken domesticity cloyed the brain."

" I was speaking generally," I explained.

" It struck me as very apt," said Harris. Cf I
thought of repeating it to Clara. She has a great
opinion of your sense, I know. I am sure that

if — -

First Chapter

" We won't risk it," I interrupted in my turn.
"It is a delicate matter, and I see a way out of
it. We will say George suggested the idea."

There is a lack of genial helpfulness about
George that it sometimes vexes me to notice.
You would have thought he would have wel-
comed the chance of assisting two old friends out
of a dilemma ; instead, he became disagreeable.

"You do," said George, "and I shall tell
them both that my original plan was that we
should make a party, children and all. That I
should bring my aunt, and that we should hire
a charming old chateau I know of in Normandy
— on the coast, where the climate is peculiarly
adapted to delicate children, and the milk such
as you do not get in England. I shall add that
you overrode that suggestion, arguing we should
be happier by ourselves."

With a man like George, kindness is of no use ;
you have to be firm.

"You do," said Harris, "and I for one will
close with the offer. We will just take that
chateau. You will bring your aunt — I will see
to that — and we will have a month of it. The
children are all fond of you and I shall be
nowhere. You Ve promised to teach Edgar fish-
ing, and it is you who will have to play wild
beasts ; since last Sunday Dick and Muriel have
talked of nothing else but your hippopotamus.
We will picnic in the woods — there will only be

5

Th r e e Men on W h eels

eleven of us — and in the evenings we will have
music and recitations. Muriel is master of six
pieces already, as perhaps you know ; and all the
other children are quick studies."

George climbed down. He has no real cour-
age. He could not even do it gracefully. He
said that if we were mean and cowardly and false-
hearted enough to stoop to such a shabby trick
he supposed he could n't help it ; and that if I
didn't intend to finish the whole bottle of claret
myself he would trouble me to spare him a glass.
He also added somewhat illogically that it really
did not matter, seeing both Ethelbertha and Mrs.
Harris were women of sense, who would judge
him better than to believe for a moment that the
suggestion emanated from him.

This little point settled, the question was :
What sort of a change ?.

Harris as usual was for the sea ; but we do
not listen much to Harris now. He said he
knew a yacht just the very thing, one that we
could manage by ourselves — no skulking lot of
lubbers loafing about adding expense and taking
away from the romance of the thing. Give him
a handy boy and he would sail it himself. We
knew that yacht and we told him so ; we had
been on it with Harris before. It smells of bilge-
water and greens to the exclusion of all other
scents ; no ordinary sea air can hope to make
head against it ; so far as sense of smell is con-

6

First Chapter

cerned one might be spending a week in Lime-
house Hole. There is no place to get out of
the rain ; the saloon is ten feet by four, and half
of that is taken up by a stove which falls to pieces
when you go to light it. You have to take your
bath on deck, and the towel blows overboard just
as you step out of the tub. Harris and the boy
do all the interesting work — the lugging and the
reefing, the letting her go and the heeling her
over, and all that sort of thing, leaving George
and myself to peel the potatoes and wash up.

" Very well, then," said Harris ; " let 's take a
proper yacht with a skipper and do the thing in
style."

That also I objected to. I know that skipper ;
his notion of yachting is to lie in what he calls
the offing, where he can be well in touch with his
wife and family and his favourite public house.

Years ago when I was young and inexperienced
I hired a yacht myself. Three things combined to
lead me into this foolishness : I had had a stroke
of unexpected luck ; Ethelbertha had expressed a
yearning for sea air ; and the very next morning in
taking up casually at the club a copy of the Sports-
man I came across the following advertisement :

TO YACHTMEN. UNIQUE OPPORTUNITY.
ROGUE 28-TON YAWL. Owner called away
suddenly on business is willing to let this superbly
fitted "greyhound of the sea" for any period, short
or long. Two cabins and a saloon ; pianette by
Woffenkoff ; new copper. Terms, I o guineas a week.
Apply, PERTWEE & Co., 33, Bucklersbury.
7

Th r e e Men on IFh eels

It seemed to me like the answer to a prayer.
The "new copper" did not interest me; what
little washing we might want could wait, I thought.
But the " pianette by Woffenkoff" sounded allur-
ing. I pictured Ethelbertha playing in the even-
ing — something with a chorus, in which, perhaps,
the crew, with a little training, might join — while
our moving home bounded " greyhound "-like
over the silvery billows.

I took a cab and drove direct to 3 a, Bucklers-
bury. Mr. Pertwee was an unpretentious-looking
gentleman who had an unostentatious office on
the third floor. He showed me a picture in water-
colours of the Rogue flying before the wind.
The deck was at an angle of ninety-five to the
ocean ; in the picture no human beings were rep-
resented on the deck. I supposed they had
slipped off — indeed, I do not see how any one
could have kept on, unless nailed. I pointed out
this disadvantage to the agent, who, however,
explained to me that the picture represented the
Rogue doubling something or ot'her on the
well-known occasion of her winning the Medway
Challenge Shield. Mr. Pertwee assumed that I
knew all about the event, so that I did not like
to ask any questions. Two specks near the frame
of the picture, which at first I had taken for
moths, represented, it appeared, the second and
third winners in this celebrated race. A photo-
graph of the yacht, at anchor off Gravesend, was

8

First Chapter

less impressive but suggested more stability. All
answers to my inquiries being satisfactory, I took
the thing for a fortnight. Mr. Pertwee said it
was fortunate I wanted it for only a fortnight —
later on I came to agree with him — the same
.fitting in exactly with another hiring. Had I
required it for three weeks he would have been
compelled to refuse me.

The letting being thus arranged, Mr. Pertwee
asked me if I had a skipper in my eye ; that I
had not was also fortunate — things seemed to be
turning out luckily for me all round — because
Mr. Pertwee felt sure I could not do better than
keep on Mr. Goyles, at present in charge ; an
excellent skipper — so Mr. Pertwee assured me
— a man who knew the sea as a man knows his
own wife, and who had never lost a life.

It was still early in the day, and the yacht was
lying off Harwich. I caught the 10.45 fr°m
Liverpool Street, and by one o'clock was talking
to Mr. Goyles on deck. He was a stout man,
and had a fatherly way with him. I told him my
idea, which was to take the outlying Dutch
Islands and then creep up to Norway. He said,
" Aye, aye, sir," and appeared quite enthusiastic
about the trip ; said he should enjoy it himself.
We came to the question of victualling, and he
grew more enthusiastic. The amount of food
suggested by Mr. Goyles I confess surprised me;
had we been living in the days of Drake and the

9

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

Spanish Main I should have thought he was
arranging for something illegal. However, he
laughed in his fatherly way, and assured me we
were not overdoing it ; and anything left over, the
crew would divide and take home with them — it
seemed this was the custom. It appeared to me
that I was providing for this crew for the winter,
but I did not like to appear stingy, and said no
more. The amount of drink required also sur-
prised me. I arranged for what I thought we
should require for ourselves, and then Mr.
Goyles spoke up for the crew ; I must say that
for him : he did think of his men.

" We don't want anything in the nature of an
orgy, Mr. Goyles," I suggested.

" Orgy ! " replied Mr. Goyles ; " why, they '11
take that little drop in their tea."

He explained to me that his motto was, get
good men and treat them well.

"They work better for you," said Mr. Goyles,
" and they come again."

Personally, I didn't feel I wanted them to
come again. I was beginning to take a dislike to
them before I had seen them. I regarded them
as a greedy and guzzling crew. But Mr. Goyles
was so cheerfully emphatic, and I was so inexpe-
rienced, that again I let him have his way. He
also promised that even in this department he
would see to it personally that nothing was

wasted.

gi
10

First Chapter

I also left him to engage the crew ; he said he
could do the thing, and would, for me, with the
help of two men and a boy. If he was alluding
to the clearing up of the victuals and drink I
think he was making an underestimate ; but pos-
sibly he may have been speaking of the sailing of
the yacht.

I called at my tailor's on the way home and
ordered a yachting suit, with a white hat, which
they promised to bustle up and have ready in
time ; and then I went home and told Ethelber-
tha all I had done. Her delight was clouded by
only one reflection : would the dressmaker be able
to finish a yachting costume for her in time ?
That is so like a woman.

Our honeymoon, which had taken place not
very long before, had been somewhat curtailed,
so we decided we would invite nobody, but have
the yacht to ourselves. And thankful I am
to Heaven that we did so decide. On Mon-
day we put on all our clothes and started. I
forget what Ethelbertha wore, but; whatever it
may have been it looked very fetching. My
own costume was a dark blue, trimmed with a
narrow white braid, which, I think, was rather
effective.

Mr. Goyles met us on deck and told us that
lunch was ready. I must admit Goyles had se-
cured the services of a very fair cook. The
capabilities of the other mejnbers of the crew I

ii

Th r e e Men on W^h eel

never had any opportunity of judging. Speaking
of them in a state of rest, however, I can say of
them they appeared to be a cheerful crew.

My idea had been that so soon as the men had
finished their dinner we would weigh anchor,
while I, smoking a cigar, with Ethelbertha by my
side, would lean over the gunwale and watch the
white cliffs of the fatherland sink imperceptibly
into the horizon. Ethelbertha and I carried out
our part of the program and waited, with the deck
to ourselves.

" They seem to be taking their time," said
Ethelbertha.

" If in the course of fourteen days," I said,
"they eat half of what is on this yacht, they will
want a fairly long time for every meal. We had
better not hurry them, or they won't get through
a quarter of it."

" They must have gone to sleep," said Ethel-
bertha later on. " It will be tea time soon."

They were certainly very quiet. I went fore
and hailed Captain Goyles down the ladder. I
hailed him three times ; then he came up slowly.
He appeared to be a heavier and older man than
when I had seen him last. He had a cold cigar
in his mouth.

" When you are ready, Captain Goyles," I said,
"we'll start."

Captain Goyles removed the cigar from his
mouth.

12

First Chapter

" Not to-day we won't, sir," he replied, " with
your permission."

" Why, what 's the matter with to-day ? " I
said. " I know sailors are a superstitious folk ; I
thought maybe a Monday might be considered
unlucky."

" The day 's all right," answered Captain
Goyles. " It's the wind I 'm a-thinking of. It
don't look much like changing."

" But do we want it to change ? " I asked.
" It seems to me to be just where it should be,
dead behind us."

" Aye, aye," said Captain Goyles, " c dead 's '
the right word to use, for dead we 'd all be, bar
Providence, if we was to put out in this. You
see, sir," he explained in answer to my look of
surprise, " this is what we call a £ land wind ' —
that is, it 's a-blowing, as one might say, direct
off the land."

When I came to think of it the man was right;
the wind was blowing off the land.

" It may change in the night," said Captain
Goyles more hopefully ; " anyhow, it 's not vio-
lent, and she rides well."

Captain Goyles resumed his cigar, and I re-
turned aft and explained to Ethel bertha the rea-
son for the delay. Ethelbertha, who appeared to
be less high-spirited than when we first boarded,
wanted to know why we could n't sail when the
wind was off the land.

13

Three Men on W^heels

" If it was not blowing off the land," said
Ethelbertha, " it would be blowing off the sea,
and that would send us back into the shore again.
It seems to me this is just the very wind we

want."

I said, " That is your inexperience, love ; it
seems to be the very wind we want, but it is not.
It's what we call a land wind, and a land wind is
always very dangerous."

Ethelbertha wanted to know why a land wind
was very dangerous.

Her argumentativeness annoyed me some-
what ; maybe I was feeling a bit cross ; the
monotonous rolling heave of a small yacht at
anchor depresses an ardent spirit.

" I can't explain it to you," I replied, which
was true ; " but to set sail in this wind would be
the height of fool hardiness, and I care for you too
much, dear, to expose you to unnecessary risk."

I thought this rather a neat conclusion, but
Ethelbertha merely replied that she wished under
the circumstances we had n't come on board till
Tuesday, and went below.

In the morning the wind veered round to the
north ; I was up early, and observed this to Cap-
tain Goyles.

"Aye, aye, sir," he remarked; "it's unfortu-
nate, but it can't be helped."

"You don't think it possible for us to start
to-day ? " I hazarded.

14

First Chapter

He did not get angry with me; he only laughed.

" Well, sir," said he, " if you was a-wanting to
go to Ipswich, I should say it could n't be better
for us, but our destination being, as you see, the
Dutch coast — why, there you are."

I broke rjie news to Ethelbertha, and we agreed
to spend the day on shore. Harwich is not a
merry town ; toward evening you might call it
dull. We had some tea and water-cress at
Dovercourt, and then returned to the quay to
look for Captain Goyles and the boat. We
waited an hour for him. When he came he was
more cheerful than we were ; if he had not told
me himself that he never drank anything but one
glass of hot grog before turning in for the night
I should have said he had been drinking. The
next morning the wind was in the south, which
made Captain Goyles rather anxious, it appearing
that it was equally unsafe to move or to stop where
we were ; our only hope was it would change be-
fore anything happened. By this time Ethel-
bertha had taken a dislike to the yacht ; she said
that personally she would rather be spending a
week in a bathing-machine, seeing that a bathing-
machine was at least steady. We passed another
day in Harwich, and that night and the next, the
wind still continuing in the south, we slept at the
King's Head. On Friday the wind was blowing
direct from the east. I met Captain Goyles on
the quay and suggested that under these circum-

15

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

stances we might start. He appeared irritated at
my persistence.

" If you knew a bit more, sir," he said, "you'd
see for yourself that it's impossible. The wind's
a-blowing direct off the sea."

I said, " Captain Goyles, tell me frankly ; what
is this thing I have hired ? Is it a yacht or a
houseboat ? "

He seemed surprised at my question.

He said, " It 's a yawl."

" What I mean is," I said, " can it be moved
at all, or is it a fixture here ? If it is a fixture,"
I continued, " tell me so frankly ; then we will
get some ivy in boxes and train over the port-
holes, stick some flowers and an awning on deck,
and make the thing look pretty. If, on the other
hand, it can be moved "

" Moved ! " interrupted Captain Goyles. "You
get the right wind behind the Rogue "

I said, " What is the right wind ? "

Captain Goyles looked puzzled.

" In the course of this week," I went on, " we
have had wind from the north, from the south,
from the east, from the west — with variations.
If you can think of any other point of the com-
pass from which it can blow, tell me and I will
wait for it. If not, and that anchor has not
grown into the bottom of the ocean, we will have
it up to-day and see what happens."

He grasped the fact that I was determined.
16

First Chapter

"Very well, sir," said he; "you're master and
I 'm man. I Ve only got one child as is still

"/ said c Captain Goyles, tell me frankly, what is this
thing I have hired? ' "

dependent on me, and no doubt your executors
will feel it their duty to do the right thing by the

old woman."

2 17

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

His solemnity impressed me.

cc Mr. Goyles," I said, " be honest with me.
Is there any hope, in any weather, of getting away
from this hole ? "

Captain Goyles' kindly geniality returned to
him.

" You see, sir," he said, " this is a very pecu-
liar coast. We'd be all right if we were once
out, but getting away from it in a cockle-shell

like that Well, to be frank, sir, it wants

doing."

I left Captain Goyles with the assurance that
he would watch the weather as a mother would
her sleeping babe ; it was his own simile, and it
struck me as rather touching. I saw him again
at twelve o'clock ; he was watching it from the
window of the Chain and Anchor. At five
o'clock that evening a stroke of luck occurred.
In the middle of the High Street I met a couple
of yachting friends who had had to put in by
reason of a strained rudder. I told them my
story and they appeared less surprised than
amused. Captain Goyles and the two men were
still watching the weather. I ran into the King's
Head and prepared Ethelbertha. The four of
us crept quietly down to the quay, where we
found our boat. Only the boy was on board ;
my two friends took charge of the yacht, and by
six o'clock we were scudding merrily up the
coast. We put in that night at Aldburgh, and

18

First Chapter

the next day worked up to Yarmouth, where, as
my friends had to leave, I decided to abandon
the yacht. We sold the stores by auction on
Yarmouth sands early in the morning. I made
a loss, but had the satisfaction of cc doing " Cap-
tain Goyles. I left the Rogue in charge of a
local mariner who for a couple of sovereigns
undertook to see to its return to Harwich, and
we came back to London by train. There may
be yachts other than the Rogue, and skippers
other than Mr. Goyles, but that experience has
prejudiced me against both.

George also thought a yacht would be a
good deal of responsibility, so we dismissed the
idea.

" What about the river ? " suggested Harris.
" We have had some pleasant times on that."

George pulled in silence at his cigar and I
cracked another nut.

" The river is not what it used to be," I said.
cc I don't know what, but there 's a something —
a dampness — about the river air that always
starts my lumbago."

" It 's the same with me," said George. " I
don't know how it is, but I never can sleep now
in the neighbourhood of the river. I spent a
week at Joe's place in the spring, and every night
I woke up at seven o'clock and never got a wink
afterward."

" I merely suggested it," observed Harris.

r e e M en on tf^b eels

" Personally, I don't think it good for me either ;
it touches my gout."

" What suits me best," I said, " is mountain air.
What say you to a walking tour in Scotland ? "

" It 's always wet in Scotland," said George.
" I was three weeks in Scotland the year before
last, and was never dry once all the time — not
in that sense."

" It 's fine enough in Switzerland," said Harris.

" They would never stand our going to Switz-
erland by ourselves," I objected. " You know
what happened last time. It must be some place
where no delicately nurtured woman or child
could possibly live ; a country of bad hotels and
comfortless travelling ; where we shall have to
rough it, to work hard, -to starve, perhaps "

" Easy ! " interrupted George, " easy, there !
Don't forget I'm coming with you."

" I have it ! " exclaimed Harris. " A bicycle
tour ! "

George looked doubtful.

" There 's a lot of uphill about a bicycle
tour," said he, "and a deal of wind against
you."

" So there is downhill, and the wind behind
you," said Harris.

" I have never noticed it," said George.

" You won't think of anything better than a
bicycle tour," persisted Harris.

I was inclined to agree with him.

20

First C b ap t er

" And I '11 tell you where," continued he ;
"through the Black Forest."

" Why, that 's all uphill," said George.

" Not all," retorted Harris ; " say two-thirds.
And there 's one thing you Ve forgotten."

He looked round cautiously and sunk his
voice to a whisper.

" There are little railways going up those hills,
little cogwheel things that "

The door opened and Mrs. Harris appeared.
She said that Ethelbertha was putting on her
bonnet, and that Muriel, after waiting, had given
the Mad Hatter's Tea-Party without us.

"Club to-morrow at four," whispered Harris
to me as he rose, and I passed it on to George
as we went upstairs.

21

II. _THE SUBJUGATION OF
ETHELBERTHA

I OPENED the ball with Ethelbertha that
same evening. I commenced by being
purposely a little irritable. My idea was
that Ethelbertha would remark upon
this ; I should admit it, and account for
it by over brain-pressure ; this would naturally
lead to talk about my health in general, and the
evident necessity there was for my taking prompt
and vigorous measures. I thought that with a
little tact I might even manage so that the sug-
gestion should come from Ethelbertha herself. I
imagined her saying :

" No, dear ; it is change you want — complete
change. Now be persuaded by me, and go away
for a month ; no, do not ask me to come with
you; I know you would rather that I did, but
I will not. It is the society of other men you
need. Try and persuade George and Harris to
go with you. Believe me, a highly strung brain
such as yours demands occasional relaxation from
the strain of domestic surroundings. Forget for
a little while the children want music lessons, and
boots, and bicycles, with tincture of rhubarb three
times a day ; forget there are such things in life
as cooks, and house-decorators, and next-door

22

" I opened the ball with Ethelbertha "

Subjugation of Ethelbertha

dogs, and butchers* bills. Go away to some green
corner of the earth, where all is new and strange
to you, where your overwrought mind will gather
peace and fresh ideas. Go away for a space and
give me time to miss you and to reflect upon
your goodness and virtue, which, continually
present with me, I may, humanlike, be apt to
forget, as one through use grows indifferent to
the blessing of the sun, the beauty of the moon.
Go away, and come back refreshed in mind and
body, a brighter, better man — if that be possible
— than when you went away."

But even when we obtain our desires they
never come to us garbed as we would wish. To
begin with, Ethelbertha did not seem to remark
that I was irritable ; I had to draw her attention
to it. I said :

" You must forgive me, I 'm not feeling quite
myself to-night."

She said : " Oh, I have not noticed any-
thing different about you; what's the matter
with you ? "

" I can't tell you what it is," I said ; " I 've
felt it coming on for weeks."

" It 's that whiskey," said Ethelbertha ; " you
never touch it except when we go to the Harris'.
You know you can't stand it; you have not a
strong head."

" It is n't the whiskey," I replied. " It 's deeper
than that. I fancy it 's more mental than bodily."

23

Th r e e Men on Jf^b eels

" You 've been reading those criticisms again,"
said Ethelbertha, more sympathetically ; " why
don't you take, my advice and put them in the
fire ? "

" And it is n't the criticisms," I answered ;
" they Ve been quite flattering of late — one or
two of them."

" Well, what is it ? " said Ethelbertha ; " there
must be something to account for it."

"No, there isn't/' I replied; "that's the
remarkable thing about it. I can only describe
it as a strange feeling of unrest that seems to
have taken possession of me."

Ethelbertha glanced across at me with a some-
what curious expression, I thought ; but as she
said nothing I continued the argument myself:

" This aching monotony of life, these days of
peaceful, uneventful felicity, they crush one."

" I should not grumble at them," said Ethel-
bertha ; " we might get some of the other sort
and like them still less."

" I 'm not so sure of that," I replied. " In a
life of continuous joy I can imagine even pain
coming as a welcome variation. I wonder some-
times whether the saints in Heaven do not occa-
sionally feel the continual serenity a burden. To
myself, a life of endless bliss, uninterrupted by
a single contrasting note, would, I feel, grow
maddening. I suppose," I continued, "I am a
strange sort of man ; I can hardly understand

24

Subjugation of Ethelbertha

myself at times. There are moments," I added,
" when'I hate myself."

Often a little speech like this, hinting at hidden
depths of indescribable emotion, has touched
Ethelbertha, but to-night she appeared strangely
unsympathetic. With regard to Heaven and its
possible effect upon me, she suggested my not
worrying myself about that, remarking it was
always foolish to go half-way to meet trouble
that might never come ; while as to my being a
strange sort of fellow, that, she supposed, I could
not help, and if other people were willing to put up
with me it was not a matter that need trouble me.
The monotony of life, she added, was a common
experience ; there she could sympathize with me.

"You don't know how I long," said Ethel-
bertha, " to get away occasionally even from you ;
but I know it can never be, so I do not brood
upon it."

I had never heard Ethelbertha speak like this
before ; it astonished and grieved me beyond
measure.

" That 's not a very kind remark to make," I
said, " not a wifely remark."

" I know it is n't," she replied ; " that is why
I have never said it before. You men never
can understand," continued Ethelbertha, "that
however fond a woman may be of a man, there
are times when he palls upon her. You don't
know how I long to be able sometimes to put on

25

Th r e e Men on H^h eels

my bonnet and go out with nobody to ask me
where I am going, why I am going, how long I
am going to be, and when I shall be back. You
don't know how I sometimes long to order a
dinner that I should like and that the children
would like, but at sight of which you would put
on your hat and be off to the club. You don't
know how much I feel inclined sometimes to
invite some women here that I like and that I
know you don't ; to go and see the people that /
want to see, to go to bed when / am tired, and to
get up when / feel I want to get up. Two people
living together are bound both to be continually
sacrificing their own desires to the other one. It
is sometimes a good thing to slacken the strain
a bit."

On thinking over Ethelbertha's words after-
wards I have come to see their wisdom ; but at
the time I admit I was hurt and indignant.

"If your desire," I said, " is to get rid of
me - "

" Now don't be an old goose," said Ethel-
bertha ; " I only want to get rid of you for a
little while — just long enough to forget there
are one or two corners about you that are not
perfect; just long enough to let me remember
what a dear fellow you are in other respects, and
to look forward to your return, as I used to look
forward to your coming in the old days when I
did not see you so often as to become, perhaps,

26

Subjugation of Ethelbertba

a little indifferent to you ; as one grows indiffer-
ent to the glory of the sun, just because he is
there every day."

I did not like the tone that Ethelbertha took.
There seemed to be a frivolity about her unsuited
to the theme into which we had drifted. That a
woman should contemplate cheerfully an absence
of three or four weeks from her husband appeared
to me to be not altogether nice — not what I call
womanly ; it was not like Ethelbertha. I was
worried; I felt I didn't want to go this trip at
all. If it had not been for George and Harris I
would have abandoned it. As it was, I could
not see how to change my mind with dignity.

" Very well, Ethelbertha," I replied, " it shall
be as you wish. If you desire a holiday from
my presence, you shall enjoy it ; but if it is not
impertinent curiosity on the part of a husband, I
should like to know what you purpose doing in
my absence."

" We will take that house at Folkestone,"
answered Ethelbertha, " and I '11 go down there
with Kate. And if you want to do Clara Harris
a good turn," added Ethelbertha, " you '11 per-
suade Harris to go with you, and then Clara can
join us. We three used to have some very jolly
times together before you men ever came along,
and it would be just delightful to renew them.
Do you think that you could persuade Mr.
Harris to go with you ? "

27

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

I said I would try.

" There 's a dear boy," said Ethelbertha ; " try
hard. You might get George to join you."

I replied there was not much advantage George
coming, seeing he was a bachelor, and that there-
fore nobody would be much benefited by his
absence. But a woman never understands satire.
She merely remarked it would look unkind
leaving him behind. I promised to put it to
him.

I met Harris at the club in the afternoon, and
asked him how he had got on.

He said: "Oh, that's all right; there's no
difficulty about getting away."

But there was that about his tone that sug-
gested incomplete satisfaction, so I pressed him
for further details.

" She was as sweet as milk about it," he con-
tinued ; " said it was an excellent idea of George's,
and that she thought it would do me good."

" That seems all right," I said ; " what 's wrong
about that ? "

" There 's nothing wrong about that," he an-
swered ; " but that was n't all. She went on to
talk of other things."

" I understand," I said.

" There 's that bathroom fad of hers," he
continued.

" I Ve heard of it," I said ; " she has started
Ethelbertha on the same idea."

28

Subjugation of Ethel her t ha

" Well, I Ve had to agree to that being put i£
hand at once ; I could n't argue any more when

" / met Harris at the club "

she was so nice about the other thing. That '11
cost me a* hundred pounds, at the very least."

29

*

•*

Th r e e Men on- Wb eels

" As much as that ? " I asked.

" Every penny of it ; the estimate alone is
sixty/'

I was sorry to hear him say this.

" Then there 's the kitchen stove/' he con-
tinued; " everything that has gone wrong in the
house for the last two years has been the fault of
that kitchen stove."

" I know," I said. cc We have been in seven
houses since we were married, and every kitchen
stove has been worse than the last. Our present
one is not only incompetent; it is spiteful. It
knows when we are giving a party and goes out
of its way to do its worst."

" We are going to have a new one," said Harris,
but he did not say it proudly ; " Clara thought
it would be such a saving of expense having the
two things done at the same time. I believe
if a woman wanted a diamond tiara she would
explain that it was to save the expense of a
bonnet."

" How much do you reckon the stove is going
to cost you ? " I asked. I felt interested in the
subject.

"I don't know — another twenty, I suppose.
Then we talked about the piano. Could you ever
notice any difference between one piano and
another ? "

cc Some of them seem to be a bit louder than
others/' I answered ; " but one gets used to that."

30

Subjugation ofEthelbertha

" Ours is all wrong about the treble," said
Harris. " By the way, what is the treble ? "

" It's the shrill end of the thing," I explained,
" the part that sounds as if you 'd trod on its tail.
The brilliant selection always ends up with a
flourish on it."

"They want more of it," said Harris; "our
old one has n't got enough of it. I '11 have to
put it in the nursery, and get a new one for the
drawing-room."

" Anything else ? " I asked.

" No," said Harris ; " she did n't seem able to
think of anything else."

" You '11 find when you get home she 's thought
of one other thing."

" What 's that ?" asked Harris.

"A house at Folkestone for the season."

" What should she want a house at Folkestone
for ? "

" To live in," I suggested, " during the sum-
mer months."

" She 's going to her people in Wales," said
Harris, "for the holidays, with the children;
we've had an invitation."

" Possibly," I said, " she '11 go to Wales before
she goes to Folkestone, or maybe she '11 take
Wales on her way home ; but she '11 want a house
at Folkestone for the season, notwithstanding. I
may be mistaken — I hope for your sake that I
am — but I feel a presentiment that I 'm not."

31

Th r e e Men on ffih eels

" This trip/' said Harris, " is going to be
expensive."

"It was an idiotic suggestion/' I said, " from
the beginning."

" It was foolish of us to listen to him," said
Harris; "he'll get us into real trouble one of
these days."

" He always was a muddler," I agreed.

" So headstrong," added Harris.

We heard his voice at that moment in the hall
asking for letters.

" Better not say anything to him," I suggested ;
" it 's too late to go back now."

" There would be no advantage in doing so,"
replied Harris ; " I should have to get that bath-
room and piano in any case now."

He came in looking very cheerful.

"Well," he said, "is it all right? Have you
managed it ? "

There was tha.t about his tone I did not alto-
gether like ; I noticed Harris resented it also.

" Managed what ? " I said.

" Why, to get off," said George.

I felt the time was come to explain things to
George.

" In married life," I said, "the man proposes,
the woman submits. It is her duty ; all religion
teaches it."

George folded his hands and fixed his eyes on
the ceiling.

32

Subjugation of Ethelbertha

"We may chaff and joke a little about these
things," I continued, " but when it comes to prac-
tice, that is what always happens. We have men-
tioned to Ethelbertha and to Clara that we are
going; naturally, they are grieved; they would
prefer to come with us ; failing that, they would
have us remain with them. But we have ex-
plained to them our wishes on the subject, and —
there's an end of the matter."

" Forgive me," said George, " I did not under-
stand. I am only a bachelor. People tell me
this, that and the other, and I listen."

I said : " That is where you do wrong. When
you want information, come to Harris or my-
self; we will tell you the truth about these
matters."

George thanked us, and we proceeded with the
business in hand.

"When shall we start?" said George.

" So far as I am concerned," replied Harris,
" the sooner the better."

His idea, I fancy, was to get away before Mrs.
H. thought of other things. We fixed the fol-
lowing Wednesday.

" What about route ? " asked Harris.

" I have an idea," said George. " I take it you
,fellows are naturally anxious to improve your
minds."

I said : " We don't want to become monstros-
ities ; to a reasonable degree, yes, if it can be done
3 33

Th r e e M en on IFh eel

without much expense and with little personal
trouble."

" It can/' said George. " We know Holland
and the Rhine. Very well ; my suggestion is that
we take the boat to Hamburg, see Berlin and
Dresden, and work our way to the Forest through
Nuremberg and Stuttgart."

" There are some pretty bits in Mesopotamia,
so I 've been told," murmured Harris.

George said Mesopotamia was too much out of
our way, but that the Berlin-Dresden route was
quite practicable. For good or evil he persuaded
us into it.

" The machines, I suppose," said George, " will
be as before ; Harris and I on the tandem, J. - "

" I think not," interrupted Harris firmly ; " you
and J. on the tandem, I on the single."

" All the same to me," agreed George. " J.
and I on the tandem, Harris - "

" I do not mind taking my turn," I interrupted,
" but I am not going to carry George all the way ;
the burden should be divided."

" Very well," agreed Harris, " we '11 divide it.
But it must be on the distinct understanding that
he works."

" That he what ? " said George.

" That he works," repeated Harris firmly ; " at
all events, uphill."

" Great Scott! " said George ; " don't you want
any exercise ? "

34

Subjugation of Ethel bertha

There is always unpleasantness about this tan-
dem. It is the theory of the man in front that
the man behind does nothing ; it is equally the
theory of the man behind that he alone is the
motive power, the man in front merely doing
the puffing. The mystery will never be solved.
It is annoying when Prudence is whispering to
you on the one side not to overdo your strength
and bring on heart disease ; while Justice into
the other ear is remarking, " Why should you
do it all? This isn't a cab. He's not your
passenger " ; to hear him grunt out : " What 's
the matter — lost your pedals ? "

Harris in his early married days made much
trouble for himself on one occasion owing to
this impossibility of knowing what the person
behind is doing. He was riding with his wife
through Holland. The roads were stony and
the machine jumped a good deal.

" Sit tight," said Harris without turning his
head.

What Mrs. Harris thought he said was "jump
off." Why she should have thought he said
"jump off" when he said " sit tight " neither of
them can explain.

Mrs. Harris puts it this way : " If you had
said c sit tight,' why should I have jumped
off?"

Harris puts it: " If I had wanted you to jump
off why should I have said c sit tight ' ? "

35

r e e M e n o n ff^b eel

The bitterness is past, but they argue about
the matter to this day.

Be the explanation what it may, however,
nothing alters the fact that Mrs. Harris did
jump off, while Harris pedalled away hard under
the impression she was still behind him. It
appears that at first she thought he was riding
up the hill merely to show off. They were both
young in those days, and he used to do that sort
of thing. She expected him to spring to earth
on reaching the summit and lean in a careless
and graceful attitude against the machine waiting
for her. When on the contrary she saw him
pass the summit and proceed rapidly down a
long and steep incline she was seized, first with
surprise, secondly with indignation, and lastly
with alarm. She ran to the top of the hill and
shouted ; but he never turned his head. She
watched him disappear into a wood a mile and
a half distant and then sat down and cried.
They had had a slight difference that morning,
and she wondered if he had taken it seriously
and intended desertion. She had no money ;
she knew no Dutch. People passed, and seemed
sorry for her ; she tried to make them under-
stand what had happened. They gathered that
she had lost something, but could not grasp
what. They took her to the nearest village and
found a policeman for her. He concluded from
her pantomime that some man had stolen her

36

Subjugation of Ethel bertha

bicycle. They put the telegraph into operation,
and discovered in a village four miles off an un-
fortunate boy riding a lady's machine of an obso-
lete pattern. They brought him to her in a
cart, but as she did not appear to want either
him or his bicycle they let him go again, and
resigned themselves to bewilderment.

Meanwhile Harris continued his ride with
much enjoyment. It seemed to him that he had
suddenly become a stronger and in every way a
more capable cyclist. Said he to what he thought
was Mrs. Harris :

" I haven't felt this machine so light for
months. It's this air, I think; it's doing me
good."

Then he told her not to be afraid, and he
would show her how fast he could go. He bent
down over the handles and put his heart into his
work. The bicycle bounded over the road like
a thing of life; farmhouses and churches, dogs
and chickens came to him and passed. Old folks
stood and gazed at him ; the children cheered
him.

In this way he sped merrily onward for ab%out
five miles. Then, as he explains it, the feeling
began to grow upon him that something was
wrong. He was not surprised at the silence ; the
wind was blowing strongly, and the machine was
rattling a good deal. It was a sense of void that
came upon him. He stretched out his hand

37

Th r e e Men on tt^h eels

behind him, 'and felt ; there was nothing there
but space. He jumped or rather fell off, and
looked back up the road ; it stretched white and
straight through the dark wood, and not a living
soul could he see upon it. He remounted, and
rode back up the hill. In ten minutes he came
to where the road broke into four ; there he
dismounted and tried to remember which fork
he had come down. While he was deliberating
a man passed, sitting sideways on a horse. Har-
ris stopped him, and explained to him that he
had lost his wife. The man appeared to be
neither surprised nor sorry for him. While they
were talking another farmer came along, to whom
the first man explained the matter, not as an
accident but as a good story. What appeared
to surprise the second man most was that Harris
should be making a fuss about the thing. He
could get no sense out of either of them, and
cursing them for a couple of idiots he mounted
his machine again and took the middle road on
chance. Halfway up he came upon a party of
two young women with one man between them.
They appeared to be making the most of him.
He asked them if they had seen his wife. They
asked him what she was like. He did not know
enough Dutch to describe her properly ; all he
could tell them was she was a very beautiful
woman of medium size. Evidently this did not
satisfy them ; the description was too general ;

38

Subjugation of ILthelbertha

any man could say that and by this means per-
haps get possession of a wife that did not belong
to him. They asked him how she was dressed ;
for the life of him he could not recollect. I
doubt if any man could tell how any woman was
dressed ten minutes after he had left her. He
recollected a blue skirt and then there was some-
thing that carried the dress on, as it were, up to
the neck. Possibly this may have been a blouse ;
he retained a dim vision of a belt ; but what sort
of a blouse ? Was it green, or yellow, or blue ?
Had it a collar or was it fastened with a bow?
Were there feathers in her hat, or flowers? Or
was it a hat at all ? He dared not say for fear
of making a mistake and being sent miles after
the wrong party. The two young women gig-
gled, which in his then state of mind irritated
Harris. The young man, who appeared anxious
to get rid of him, suggested the police station at
the next town. Harris made his way there.
The police gave him a piece of paper, and told
him to write down a full description of his wife,
together with details of when and where he had
lost her. He did not know where he had lost her;
all he could tell them was the name of the village
where he had lunched. He knew he had her with
him then, and that they had started from there
together. The police looked suspicious ; they
were doubtful about three matters ; First, was
she really his wife? Second, had he really lost

39

T*h r e e M en on ff^b eels

her? Third, why had he lost her? With the
aid of a hotel-keeper, however, who spoke a little
English, he overcame their scruples. They
promised to act, and in the evening they brought
her to him in a covered wagon, together with a
bill for expenses. The meeting was not a tender
one. Mrs. Harris is not a good actress, and
always has great difficulty in disguising her feel-
ings ; on this occasion, she frankly admits, she
made no attempt to disguise them.

The wheel business settled, there arose the
everlasting luggage question.

" The usual list, I suppose," said George, pre-
paring to write.

That was wisdom I had taught them ; I had
learned it myself years ago from my Uncle
Podger.

" Always before beginning to pack," my
Uncle would say, " make a list."

He was a methodical man.

" Take a piece of paper " -7- he always began
at the beginning — " put down on it everything
you can possibly require ; then go over it and
see that it contains nothing you can possibly do
without. Imagine yourself in bed ; what have
you got on ? Very well, put it down — together
with a change. You get up ; what do you do ?
Wash yourself. What do you wash yourself
with ? Soap ; put down soap. Go on till you
have finished. Then take your clothes. Begin

40

Subjugation of Ethel bertha

at your feet : what do you wear on your feet ?
Boots, shoes, socks : put them down. Work up
till you get to your head. What else do you
want besides clothes ? A little brandy : put it
down. A corkscrew — put it down. Put down
everything, then you don't forget anything."

That is the plan he always pursued himself.
The list made, he would go over it carefully, as
he always advised, to see that he had forgotten
nothing. Then he would go over it again, and
strike out everything it was possible to dispense
with. Then he would lose the list.

Said George : " Just sufficient for a day or two
we will take with us on our bikes. The bulk of
our luggage we must send on from town to town."

" We must be careful," I said. " I knew a

man once

Harris looked at his watch.

" We '11 hear about him on the boat," said
Harris ; " I have got to meet Clara at Waterloo
Station in half an hour."

" It won't take half an hour," I said ; " it 's a
true story, and "

" Don't waste it," said George ; " I am told
there are rainy evenings in the Black Forest ;
we may be glad of it. What we have to do now
is to finish this list."

Now I come to think of it, I never did get
off that story ; something always interrupted it.
And it really was true.

41

III. — THE BICYCLE DOCTOR
OF FOLKESTONE

ON MONDAY afternoon Harris
came around. He had a cycling
paper in his hand.
I said : " If you take my advice,
you will leave it alone."
Harris said : " Leave what alone ? "
I said : " That brand-new, patent revolution
in cycling, record-breaking tomfoolishness, what-
ever it may be, the advertisement of which you
have there in your hand."

He said : " Well, I don't know ; there will
be some steep hills for us to negotiate ; I guess
we shall want a good brake."

I said : " We shall want a brake, I agree ;
what we shall not want is a mechanical surprise
that we don't understand, and that never acts
when it is wanted."

" This thing," he said, " acts automatically."
"You need n't tell me," I said ; " I know by in-
stinct exactly what it will do. Going uphill it will
jam the wheel so effectively that we shall have to
carry the machine bodily. The air at the top of
the hill will do it good, and it will suddenly come
right again. Going downhill it will start reflecting
what a nuisance it has been. This will lead to

42

Bicycle Doctor of Folkestone

remorse, and finally to despair. It will say to
itself: £ I 'm not fit to be a brake. I don't help
these fellows ; I only hinder them. I 'm a curse,
that 's what I am/ And without a word of
warning it will chuck the whole business. That
is what that brake will do. Leave it alone.
You are a good fellow/* I continued, " but you
have one fault."

" What ? " he asked indignantly.

" You have too much faith," I answered. "If
you read an advertisement you go away and
believe it. Every experiment that every fool
has thought of in connection with cycling you
have tried. Your Guardian Angel appears to be
a capable and conscientious spirit, and hitherto
she has seen you through ; take my advice and
don't try her too far. She must have had a busy
time since you started cycling. Don't go on till
you make her mad."

He said : " If every man talked like that there
would be no advancement made in any depart-
ment of life. If nobody ever tried a new thing the
world would come to a standstill. It is by "

" I know all that can be said on that side of
the argument," I interrupted. " I agree in trying
new experiments up to thirty-five ; after thirty-
five I consider a man is entitled to think of him-
self. You and I have done our duty in this
direction — you, especially. You have been

blown up by a patent gas lamp "

43

Th r e e Men on Jf^b eels

He said : " I really think, you know, that was
my fault ; I think I must have screwed it up too

tight.-;

I said : cc I am quite willing to believe that if
there was a wrong way of handling the thing that
is the way you handled it. You should take
that tendency of yours into consideration ; it
bears upon the argument. Myself, I did not
notice what you did ; I only know we were
riding peacefully and pleasantly along the
Whitby Road, dismissing the Thirty Years' War,
when your lamp wjnt off like a pistol shot. The
start sent me into^the ditch, and your wife's face
when I told her there was nothing the matter
and that she was not to worry, because the two
men would carry you upstairs, and the doctor
would be around in a minute, bringing the nurse
with him, still lingers in my memory."

He said : " I wish you had thought to pick
up the lamp. I should like to have found
out what was the cause of its going off like
that."

I said : " There was not time to pick up the
lamp. I calculate it would have taken two hours
to have collected it. As to its c going off/ the
mere fact of its being advertised as the safest lamp
ever invented would of itself, to any one but you,
have suggested accident.

" Then there was that electric lamp," I
continued.

44

Bicycle Doctor of Folkestone

"Well, that really did give a fine light/' he
replied ; " you said so yourself."

I said : " It gave a brilliant light in the King's
Road, Brighton, and frightened a horse. The
moment we got into the dark beyond Kemp
Town it went out, and you were summoned for
riding without a light. You may remember that
on sunny afternoons you used to ride about with
that lamp shining for all it was worth. When
lighting-up time came it was naturally tired, and
wanted a rest."

"It was a bit irritating, that lamp," he mur-
mured ; " I remember it."

I said : " It irritated me ; it must have been
worse for you.

" Then there are saddles," I went on. I
wished to get this lesson home to him. " Can
you think of any saddle ever advertised that you
have not tried ? "

He said : "It has always been an idea of mine
that the right saddle is to be found."

I said : " You give up that idea ; this is an im-
perfect world, a world of joy and sorrow mingled.
There may be a Better Land where bicycle
saddles are made out of rainbow, stuffed with
cloud ; in this world the simplest thing is to
get used to something hard. There was that
saddle you bought in Birmingham ; it was
divided in the middle, and looked like a pair
of kidneys."

45

Tb r e e Men on If^h eels

He said : " You mean that one constructed on
anatomical principles."

George

"Very likely," I replied. "The box you
bought it in had a picture on the cover represent-
ing a sitting skeleton — or rather that part of a
skeleton which does sit."

46

Bicycle Doctor of Folkestone

He said : "It was quite correct ; it showed
you the true position of the "

I said : " We will not go into details ; the
picture always seemed to me indelicate."

He said : " Medically speaking, it was right."

" Possibly," I said, " for a man who rode in j[i
nothing but his bones. I only know that I tried
it myself, and that to a man who wore flesh it was
agony. Every time you went over a stone or rut
it nipped you ; it was like riding on an irritable
lobster. You rode that for a month."

" I thought it only right to give it a fair trial,"
he answered.

I said : " You gave your family a fair trial, also,
if you will allow me the use of slang. Your wife
told me that never in the whole course of your
married life had she known you so bad-tempered,
so un-Christianlike as you were that month.
Then you remember that other saddle, the one
with a spring under it."

He said : " You mean the c Spiral ' ? "

I said : " I mean the one that jerked you
up and down like a Jack-in-the-box ; sometimes
you came down again in the right place, and
sometimes you did n't. I am not referring to
these past matters merely to recall painful memo-
ries, but I want to impress you with the folly of
trying experiments at your time of life."

He said : " I wish you would n't harp so much

on my age. A man at thirty-four "

47

Th r e e M e n °o n Wh eels

" A man at what ! "

He said : " If you don't want the thing, don't
have it. If your machine runs away with you
down a mountain, and you and George get flung
through a church roof, don't blame me."

" I cannot promise for George/* I said ; " a
little thing will sometimes annoy him, as you
know. If such an accident as you suggest happen,
he may be cross, but I will undertake to explain
to him that it was not your fault."

" Is the thing all right? " he asked.

"The tandem," I replied, "is well."

He said : " Have you overhauled it ? "

I said : " I have not, nor is anybody else
going to overhaul it. The thing is now in work-
ing order, and it is going to remain in working
order till we start."

I have had experience of this " overhauling."
There was a man at Folkestone ; I used to meet
him on the Lees. He proposed one evening we
should go for a long bicycle ride together on the
following day, and I agreed. I got up early, for
me ; I made an effort, and was pleased with myself.
He came half an hour late; I was waiting for him
in the garden. It was a lovely day. He said :

" That 's a good-looking machine of yours.
How does it run ? "

"Oh, like most of them," I answered; "easily
enough in the morning ; goes a little stiffly after
lunch."

48

Bicycle Doctor of Folkestone

He caught hold of it by the front wheel and
the fork and shook it violently.

I said : " Don't do that ; you '11 hurt it."

I did not see why he should shake it ; it had
not done anything to him. Besides, if it wanted
shaking, I was the proper person to shake it. I
felt much as I should if he had started whacking
my dog.

He said : " This front wheel wobbles."

I said : " It does n't if you don't wobble it."
It did n't wobble, as a matter of fact — nothing
worth calling a wobble.

He said : " This is dangerous ; have you got
a screw-hammer ? "

I ought to have been firm, but I thought that
perhaps he really did know something about the
business. I went to the toolshed to see what I
could find. When I came back he was sitting
on the ground with the front wheel between his
legs. He was playing with it, twiddling it round
between his fingers ; the remnant of the machine
was lying on the gravel path beside him.

He said : " Something has happened to this
front wheel of yours."

" It looks like it, does n 't it ? " I answered.
But he was the sort of man that never under-
stands satire.

He said : a It looks to me as if the bearings
were all wrong."

I said : " Don't you trouble about it any more ;
4 49

Three Men on Wheels

you will make yourself tired. Let us put it back
and get off/*

He said : u We may as well see what is the
matter with it, now it is out." He talked as
though it had dropped out by accident.

Before I could stop him he had unscrewed
something somewhere, and out rolled all over the
path a lot of little balls.

"Catch 'em!" he shouted. "Catch 'em !
We must n't lose any of them ! " He was quite
excited about them.

We grovelled around for half an hour and found
sixteen. He said he hoped we had got them all,
because if not it would make a serious difference
in the machine. He said there was nothing you
should be more careful about in taking a bicycle
to pieces than seeing you did not lose any of the
balls. He explained that you ought to count
them as you took them out, and see that exactly
the same number went back in each place. I
promised, if ever I took a bicycle to pieces, I
would remember his advice.

I put the balls for safety in my hat, and I put
my hat upon the doorstep. It was not, the sensi-
ble thing to do, I admit. As a matter of fact, it
was a silly thing to do. I am not as a rule, addle-
headed ; his influence must have affected me.

He then said that while he was about it he
would see to the chain for me, and at once began
taking off the gearca'se. I did try to dissuade

5°

Bicycle Doctor of Folkestone

him from that. I told him what an experienced
friend of mine once said to me, solemnly:

" If anything goes wrong with your gearcase,
sell the machine and buy a new one. It comes
cheaper."

He said : " People talk like that who under-
stand nothing about machines. Nothing is easier
than taking off a gearcase."

I had to confess he was right. In less than
five minutes he had the gearcase in two pieces
lying on the path, and was grovelling for screws.
He said it was always a mystery to him the way
screws disappeared. We were still looking for
the screws when • Ethelbertha came out. She
seemed surprised to find us there ; she said she
thought we had started hours ago.

He said : " We sha' n't be long now. I 'm just
helping your husband to overhaul this machine
of his. It 's a good machine, but they all want
going over occasionally."

Ethelbertha said : "If you want to wash your-
selves when you have done you might go into
the back kitchen, if you don't mind ; the girls
have just finished the bedrooms."

She told me that if she met Kate they would
probably go for a sail, but that in any case she
would be back to lunch. I would have given a
sovereign to be going with her. I was getting
heartily sick of standing about watching this fool
breaking up my bicycle.

51

Three Men on Wheels

Common sense continued to whisper to me,
" Stop him before he does any more mischief;
you have a right to protect your own property
from the ravages of a lunatic ; take him by the
scruff of the neck and kick him out of the gate."

But I am weak when it comes to hurting other
people's feelings, and 1 let him muddle on.

He gave up looking for the rest of the screws.
He said screws had a knack of turning up when
you least expected them, and that now he would
see to the chain. He tightened it till it would
not move ; next he loosened it until it was twice
as loose as it was before. Then he said we had
better think about getting the front wheel back
into its place again.

I held the fork open, and he worried with the
wheel. At the end of ten minutes I suggested
he should hold the forks and that I should
handle the wheel, and we changed places. At the
end of his first minute he dropped the machine
and took a short walk around the croquet lawn
with his hands pressed together between his
thighs. He explained as he walked that the
thing to be careful about was to avoid getting
your fingers pinched between the forks and the
spokes of the wheel. I replied I was convinced,
from my own experience, that there was much
truth in what he said. He wrapped himself up
in a couple of dusters and we commenced again.
At length we did get the thing into position and

52

Bicycle Doctor of Folkestone

the moment it was in position he burst out
laughing.

" Etbelbtrtha came out"

I said: "What's the joke?"
He said : "Well, I am an ass ! "
It was the first thing he had said that made
53

Th r e e Men on W^h ee

me respect him. I asked him what had led him
to the discovery.

He said : " We've forgotten the balls ! "

I looked for my hat; it was lying topsyturvy
in the middle of the path, and Ethelbertha's
favourite hound was swallowing the balls as fast
as he could pick them up.

"He will kill himself" said Ebbson— I have
never met him since that day, thank the Lord,
but I think his name was Ebbson — " they are
solid steel."

I said : " I am not troubling about the dog.
He has had a bootlace and a packet of needles
already this week. Nature 's the best guide ;
puppies seem to require this kind of stimulant.
What I am thinking about is my bicycle.''

He was of a cheerful disposition. He said :
" Well, we must put back all we can find and
trust to Providence."

We found eleven. We fixed six on one side
and five on the other, and half an hour later the
wheel was in its place again. It need hardly be
added that it really did wobble now; a child
might have noticed it. Ebbson said it would do
for the present. He appeared to be getting a
bit tired himself; if I had let him he would, I
believe, at this point, have gone home. I was
determined now, however, that he should stop
and finish. I had abandoned all thoughts of a
ride. My pride in the machine he had killed.

54

u Then he lost his temper and tried bullying the thing "

Bicycle Doctor of Folkestone

My only interest lay now in seeing him scratch,
and bump, and pinch himself. I revived his
drooping spirits with a glass of beer and some
judicious praise. I said :

" Watching you do this is of real use to me.
It is not only your skill and dexterity that fasci-
nates me ; it is your cheery confidence in your-
self, your inexplicable hopefulness, that does me
good."

Thus encouraged, he set to work to refix the
gearcase. He stood the bicycle up against the
house and worked from the off-side. Then he
stood it against a tree and worked from the near
side. Then I held it for him while he lay on
the ground with his head between the wheels and
worked at it from below, and dropped oil upon
himself. Then he took it away from me and
doubled himself across it, like a pack-saddle, till
he lost his balance and slid over onto his head.
Three times he said :

" Thank Heaven, that 's right at last !" '

And twice he said :

" No, I 'm d d if it is, after all ! "

What he said the third time I try to forget.

Then he lost«his temper and tried bullying the
thing. The bicycle, I was glad to see, showed
spirit ; and the subsequent proceedings degener-
ated into little else than a rough-and-tumble fight
between him and the machine. One moment the
bicycle would be on the gravel path and he on

55

*Th r e e M en on W^h eels

top of it ; the next the position would be reversed
— he on the gravel path, the bicycle on him.
Now he would be standing flushed with victory,
with the bicycle firmly fixed between his legs.
But his triumph would be short-lived. By a
sudden, quick movement it would free itself, and
turning upon him, hit him sharply over the head
with one of its handles.

At quarter to one, dirty and dishevelled, cut
and bleeding, he said :

" I think that will do," and rose and wiped his
brow.

The bicycle looked as if it also had had enough
of it. Which had received most punishment it
would be difficult to say. I took him into the
back kitchen, where, so far as was possible with-
out soda and proper tools, he cleaned himself,
and sent him home. The bicycle I put into a
cab and took round to the nearest repairing shop.
The foreman of the works came up and looked
at it.

" What do you want me to do with that ? "
said he.

" I want you," I said, " so far as is possible, to
restore it."

" It 's a bit far gone," said he. " But I '11 do
my best."

He did his best, which came to two pounds
ten. But it was never the same machine again,
and at the end of the season I left it in an agent's

56

Bicycle Doctor of Folkestone

hands to sell. I wished to deceive nobody ; I
instructed the man to advertise it as a last year's
machine. The agent advised me not to mention
any date. He said :

" In this business it is n't a question of what is
true and what is n't ; it 's a question of what you
can get people to believe. Now, between you
and me, it don't look like a last year's machine;
so far as looks are concerned, it might be a ten-
year-old. We '11 say nothing about date ; we '11
just get what we can."

I left the matter to him, and he got me five
pounds, which, he said, was more than he had
expected.

There are two ways you can get exercise out of
a bicycle ; you can " overhaul " it, or you can ride
it. On the whole, I am not sure that the man
who takes his pleasure overhauling does not have
the best of the bargain. He is independent of the
weather and the wind ; the state of the roads
troubles him not. Give him a screw-hammer, a
bundle of rags, an oil can, and something to sit
down upon, and he is happy for the day. He
has to put up with certain disadvantages, of course ;
there is no joy without alloy. He himself always
looks like a tinker, and his machine always sug-
gests the idea that, having stolen it, he has tried
to disguise it ; but as he rarely gets beyond the
first milestone with it, this, perhaps, does not
much matter. The mistake some people make is

57

Th r e e M en on W^h eels

in thinking they can get both forms of sport out
of the same machine. This is impossible ; no
machine will stand the double strain. You must
make up your mind whether you are going to be
an " overhauler " or a rider. Personally, I prefer
to ride ; therefore I take care to have near me
nothing that can tempt me to overhaul. When
anything happens to my machine I wheel it to the
nearest repairing shop. If I am too far from a
town or village to walk, I sit by the roadside and
wait till a cart comes along. My chief danger, I
always find, is from the wandering overhauler.
The sight of a broken-down machine is to the
overhauler as a wayside corpse to a crow : he
swoops down upon it with a friendly yell of tri-
umph. At first I used to try politeness. I
would say :

" It is nothing ; don't you trouble. You ride
on and enjoy yourself. I beg it of you as a
favour ; please go away."

Experience has taught me, however, that cour-
tesy is of no use in such an extremity. Now I
say :

" You go away and leave the thing alone, or I
will knock your silly head off."

And if you look determined and have a good
stout cudgel in your hand, you can generally
drive him off.

George came in later in the day. He said :

" Well, do you think everything will be ready ? "
58

Bicycle Doctor of Folkestone

I said : " Everything will be ready by Wednes-
day, except, perhaps, you and Harris."

He said : " Is the tandem all right? "

"The tandem," I said, "is well."

He said: "You don't think it wants overhaul-
ing?"

I replied : " Age and experience have taught
me that there are few matters concerning which
a man does well to be positive, consequently
there remain to me now but a limited number
of questions upon which I feel any degree of
certainty.

" Among such still unshaken beliefs, how-
ever, is that that the tandem does not want
overhauling. I also feel a conviction that,
provided my life is spared, no human being be-
tween now and Wednesday morning is going to
overhaul it."

George said : " I should not show temper over
the matter if I were you. There will come a
day, perhaps not far distant, when that bicycle,
with a couple of mountains between it and the
nearest repairing shop, will, in spite of your chronic
desire for rest, have to be overhauled. Then you
will clamour for people to tell you where you put
the oil can, and what you have done with the
screw-hammer. Then, while you exert yourself
holding the thing steady against a tree, you will
suggest that somebody else should clean the chain
and pump the back wheel/'

59

Th r e e Men on ff^h eels

I felt there was justice in George's rebuke —
also a certain amount of prophetic wisdom. I
said :

" Forgive me if I seemed unresponsive. The

truth is, Harris was round here this morn-
• »

ing

60

IV. — THE AWAKENING AT
BEGGARBUSH

GEORGE came down on Tuesday
evening and slept at Harris' place.
We thought this a better arrange-
ment than his own suggestion,
which was that we should call for
him on our way and " pick him up." Picking
George up in the morning means picking him out
of bed to begin with, and shaking him awake —
in itself an exhausting effort with which to com-
mence the day ; helping him find his things and
finish his packing, and then waiting for him while
he eats his breakfast, a tedious entertainment
from the spectator's point of view, full of weari-
some repetition.

I knew that if he slept at " Beggarbush " he
would be up in time. I have slept there myself,
and I know what happens. About the middle
of the night, as you judge, though in reality it
may be somewhat later, you are startled out of
your first sleep by what sounds like a rush of cav-
alry along the passage just outside the door.
Your half-awakened intelligence fluctuates be-
tween burglars, the Day of Judgment, and a gas
explosion. You sit up in bed and listen intently.
You are not kept waiting long ; the next moment

61

Three Men on W^heels

a door is violently slammed, and somebody or
something is evidently coming downstairs on a
tea-tray.

" I told you so," says a voice, and immediately
some hard substance, a head, one would say from
the ring of it, rebounds against the panel of your
door.

By this time you are charging madly around
the room for your clothes. Nothing is where
you put it overnight ; the articles most essential
have disappeared entirely ; and meanwhile the
murder, or revolution, or whatever it is, continues
unchecked. You pause for a moment with your
head under the wardrobe, where you think you
can see your slippers, to listen to a steady, monot-
onous thumping upon a distant door. The vic-
tim, you presume, has taken refuge there. They
mean to have him out and finish him. Will you
be in time ? The knocking ceases, and a voice,
sweetly reassuring in its gentle plaintiveness, asks
meekly :

"Pa, may I get up? "

You do not hear the other voice, but the re-
sponses are :

" No, it was only the bath. No, she ain't really
hurt, only wet, you know. Yes, ma, I '11 tell 'em
what you say. No, it was a pure accident. Yes ;
good-night, papa."

Then the same voice, exerting itself so as to be
heard afar, remarks, —

62

Awakening at Eeggarbush

" We 've all got to go upstairs again. Pa says
it is n't time yet to get up."

You return to bed, and lie listening to some-
body's being dragged upstairs, evidently against
their will. By a thoughtful arrangement, the
spare rooms at " Beggarbush " are exactly under-
neath the nurseries. The same somebody, you
conclude, still offering strenuous opposition, is
being put back into bed. You can follow the con-
test with much exactitude, because every time the
body is flung down upon the spring mattress the
bedstead, just above your head, makes a sort of
jump ; while every time the body succeeds in
struggling out again you are made aware by the
thud upon the floor. After a time the struggle
wanes, or maybe the bed collapses, and you drift
back into sleep. But the next moment, or what
seems to be the next moment, you again open
your eyes under the consciousness of a presence.
The door is being held ajar, and four solemn
faces, piled one on top of the other, are peering
at you, as though you were some natural curiosity
kept in this particular room. Seeing you awake,
the top face, walking calmly over the other three,
comes in and sits on the bed in a friendly attitude.

"Oh," it says, "we didn't know you were
awake. I Ve been awake some time."

"So I gather," you reply shortly.

" Pa doesn't like us to get up too early," it
continues ; " he says everybody else in the house

63

Tb r e e Men on tf^b eels

is liable to be disturbed if we get up. So of
course we must n't."

The tone is that of gentle resignation. It is
instinct with the spirit of virtuous pride, arising
from the consciousness of self-sacrifice.

" Don't you call this being up ? " you suggest.

" Oh, no ; we 're not really up, you know,
because we 're not properly dressed." The fact
is self-evident. " Pa 's always very tired in the
morning," the voice continues ; " of course, that 's
because he works hard all day. Are you ever
tired in the morning ? "

At this point he turns and notices for the first
time that the three other children have also
entered, and are sitting in a semi-circle on the
floor. From their attitude it is clear they have
mistaken the whole thing for one of the slower
forms of entertainment, some comic lecture or con-
juring exhibition, and are waiting patiently for you
to get out of bed and do something. It shocks
him, the idea of their being in the guest's bed-
chamber. He peremptorily orders them out.
They do not answer him ; they do not argue ; in
dead silence and with one accord they fall upon
him. All you can see from the bed is a confused
tangle of waving arms and legs, suggestive of an
intoxicated octopus trying to find bottom. Not
a word is spoken ; that seems to be the etiquette
of the thing. If you are sleeping in your paja-
mas you spring from the bed and only add to

64

Awakening at Eeggarbush

the confusion ; if you are wearing a less dignified
garment you stay where you are and shout com-

" The door is being held ajar "

mands, which are utterly unheeded. The sim-
plest plan is to leave it to the eldest boy.
He does get them out after awhile and closes the
5 65

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

door upon them. It reopens immediately, and
one, generally Muriel, is shot back into the room.
She enters as from a catapult. She is handi-
capped by having long hair, which can be used as
a convenient handle. Evidently aware of this
natural disadvantage, she clutches it herself
tightly in one hand and punches with the other.
He opens the door again and cleverly uses her as
a battering-ram against the wall of those without.
You can hear the dull crash as her head enters
among them and scatters them. When the
victory is complete he comes back and resumes
his seat on the bed. There is no bitterness
about him ; he has forgotten the whole incident.

" I like the mornings," he says ; " don't you ? "

" Some mornings," you agree, " are all right ;
others are no't so peaceful."

He takes no notice of your exception ; a far-
away look steals over his somewhat ethereal face.

" I should like to die in the morning," he says ;
" everything is so beautiful then."

" Well," you answer, cc perhaps you will, if
your father ever invites an irritable man to come
and sleep here and does n't warn him beforehand."

He descends from his contemplative mood and
becomes himself again.

" It 's jolly in the garden," he suggests ; "you
would n't like to get up and have a game of
cricket, would you ? "

It was not the idea with which you went to
66

Awakening at Beggarbush

bed, but now, as things have turned out, it seems
as good a plan as lying there hopelessly awake,
and you agree.

You learn later in the day that the explanation
of the proceeding is that you, unable to sleep, woke
up early in the morning and thought you would
like a game of cricket. The children, taught to
be ever courteous to guests, felt it their duty to
humour you. Mrs. Harris remarks at breakfast
that at least you might have seen to it that the chil-
dren were properly dressed before you took them
out ; while Harris points out to you pathetically
how, by your one morning's example and encour-
agement, you have undone his labour of months.

On this Wednesday morning, George, it seems,
clamoured to get up at quarter-past five, and per-
suaded them to let him teach them cycling tricks
around the cucumber frames on Harris's new
wheel. Even Mrs. Harris, however did not
blame George on this occasion ; she felt intuitively
the idea could not have been entirely his.

It is not that the Harris children have the
faintest notion of avoiding blame at the expense
of a friend and comrade. One and all, they are
honesty itself in accepting responsibility for their
own misdeeds. It simply is, that is how the
thing presents itself to their understanding.
When you explain to them that you had no
original intention of getting up at five o'clock in
the morning to play cricket on the croquet lawn,

67

Th r e e Men on Jf^b eels

or to mimic the history of the early church by
shooting with a cross-bow at dolls tied to a tree ;
that as a matter of fact, left to your own initiative,
you would have slept peacefully till roused in
Christian fashion with a cup of tea at eight, they
are firstly astonished, secondly apologetic, and
thirdly sincerely contrite. In the present in-
stance, waiving the purely academic question
whether the awakening of George at a little before
five was due to natural instinct on his part or to
the accidental passing of a home-made boomerang
through his bedroom window, the dear children
frankly admitted that the blame for his uprising
was their own. As the eldest boy said :

"We ought to have remembered Uncle George
had a long day before him, and we ought to have
dissuaded him from getting up. I blame myself
entirely/'

But an occasional change of habit does nobody
any harm ; and besides, as Harris and I agreed,
it was good training for George. In the Black
Forest we would be up at five every morning ;
that we had determined on. Indeed, George
himself had suggested half-past four, but Harris
and I had argued that five would be early enough
as an average; that would enable us to be on
our machines by six, and to break the back of
our journey before the heat of the day set in.
Occasionally we might start a little earlier, but
not as a habit.

68

Awakening at Beggarbush

I myself was up that morning at five. This
was earlier than I had intended. I had said to
myself on going to sleep : " Six o'clock, sharp ! "

There are men, I know, who can waken them-
selves at any time to the minute. They say to
themselves literally, as they lay their heads upon
the pillow : " Four thirty," " Four forty-five,"
or " Five fifteen," as the case may be, and as
the clock strikes they open their eyes. It is
very wonderful, this ; the more one dwells upon
it the -greater the mystery grows. Some Ego
within us, acting independently of our conscious
self, must be capable of counting the hours while
we sleep. Unaided by clock or sun, or any other
medium known to our five senses, it keeps watch
through the darkness. At the exact moment it
whispers " Time ! " and we awake. The work
of an old riverside fellow I once talked with called
him to be out of bed each morning half an hour
before high tide. He told me that never once
had he overslept himself by a minute. Latterly
he never even troubled to work out the time for
himself. He would lie down tired and sleep a
dreamless sleep, and each morning at a different
hour this ghostly watchman, true as the tide
itself, would silently call him. Did the man's
spirit haunt through the darkness the muddy
stairs, or had it knowledge of the ways of
Nature ? Whatever the process, the man him-
self was unconscious of it. And yet, to satisfy

69

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

our craving for mystery, we must needs dress up
ghosts in night-shirts, and listen round a three-
legged table to spirits spelling nonsense !

In my own case, my inward watchman is,
perhaps, somewhat out of practice. He does
his best, but he is over-anxious ; he worries him-
self, and loses count. I say to him, maybe: "Five
thirty, please," and he wakes me with a start at
half-past two. I look at my watch ; he suggests
that perhaps I forgot to wind it up. I put it to
my ear ; it is still going. He thinks maybe
something has happened to it; he is confident
himself it is half-past five, if not a little later.
To satisfy him, I put on a pair of slippers and
go downstairs to inspect the dining-room clock.
What happens to a man when he wanders about
the house in the middle of the night clad in a
dressing-gown and a pair of slippers, there is no
need to recount; most men know by experience.
Everything, especially everything with a sharp
corner, takes a cowardly delight in hitting him.
When you are wearing a pair of stout boots
things get out of your way ; when you venture
among furniture in wool-work slippers and no
socks it comes at you and kicks you. I return
to bed bad-tempered, and refusing to listen to
his further absurd suggestion that all the clocks
in the house have entered into a conspiracy
against me, take half an hour to get to sleep
again. From four to five he wakes me every ten

70

Awakening at Beggarbush

minutes. I wish I had never said a word to him
about the thing. At five o'clock he goes to sleep
himself, worn out, and leaves it to the girl, who
does it half an hour later than usual.

On this particular Wednesday he worried me
to such an extent that I got up at five simply to
be rid of him. I did not know what to do with
myself. Our train did not leave till ten minutes
past eight. All our luggage had been packed and
sent on the night before, together with the bicy-
cles, to Fenchurch Street Station. I went into
my study; I thought I would put in an hour's
writing. The early morning, before one has
breakfasted, is not, I take it, a good season for
literary effort. I wrote three paragraphs of a
story, and then read them over to myself. Some
unkind things have been said about my work, but
nothing has yet been written which would have
done justice to those three paragraphs. I threw
them into the waste paper basket, and sat trying
to remember what, if any, charitable institutions
provided pensions for decayed authors.

To escape from this train of reflection, I put a
golf ball in my pocket, and selecting a driver,
strolled out into the paddock. A couple of sheep
were browsing there, and they followed, and took
a keen interest in my practice. The one was a
kindly, sympathetic old party. I do not think
she understood the game ; I think it was my do-
ing this innocent thing so early in the morning

71

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

that appealed to her. At every stroke I made
she bleated :

" G-o-o-d, g-o-o-o-d, ind-e-e-e-d ! "

She seemed as pleased as if she had done it
herself.

As for the other one, she was a cantankerous,
disagreeable old thing, as discouraging to me as
her friend was helpful.

" Ba-a-a-d, da-a-a-m ba-a-a-d ! " was her com-
ment on almost every stroke. As a matter of
fact, some were really excellent strokes ; but she
did it just to be contradictory and for the sake of
irritating. I could see that.

By a most regrettable accident, one of my
swiftest balls struck the good sheep on the nose.
And at that the bad sheep laughed — laughed
distinctly and undoubtedly ; a husky, vulgar
laugh ; and while her friend stood glued to the
ground too astonished to move, she changed her
note for the first time and bleated :

" Go-o-o-d, ve-ery go-o-o-d ! Be-e-e-est
sho-o-ot he-e-e 's ma-a-a-de ! "

I would have given half a crown had it been
her I had hit instead of the other one. It is ever
the good and amiable who suffer in this world.

I had wasted more time than I had intended
in the paddock, and when Ethelbertha came to
tell me it was half-past seven, and that breakfast
was on the table, I remembered that I had not
shaved. It vexes Ethelbertha, my shaving

72

" She bleated: c G-o-o-d, g-o-o-o-d^ ind-e-e-e-d ! " "

Awakening at Beggarbusb

quickly. She fears that to outsiders it may sug-
gest a poor-spirited attempt at suicide, and that
in consequence it may get about the neighbour-
hood that we are not happy together. As a
further argument, she has also hinted that my
appearance is not of the kind that can be trifled
with.

On the whole, I was just as glad not to be able
to take a long farewell of Ethelbertha. I did not
want to risk her breaking down. But I should
have liked more opportunity to say a few farewell
words of advice to the children, especially as re-
gards my fishing-rod, which they will persist in
using for cricket stumps ; and I hate having to
run for a train. Quarter of a mile from the sta-
tion I overtook George and Harris ; they were
also running. In their case — so Harris informed
me, jerkily, while we trotted side by side — it was
the new kitchen stove that was to blame. This
was the first morning they had tried it, and from
some cause or other it had blown up the kidneys
and scalded the cook. He said he hoped that
by the time we returned they would have gotten
more used to it.

We caught the train by the skin of our teeth,
as the siying is ; and, reflecting upon the events
of the morning as we sat gasping in the carriage,
there passed vividly before my mind the pano-
rama of my Uncle Podger, as on two hundred
and fifty days in the year he would start from

73

Three Men on Wheels

Ealing Common by the nine thirteen train to
Moorgate Street.

From my Uncle Podger's house to the railway
station was eight minutes* walk. What my uncle
always said was :

" Allow yourself a quarter of an hour and take
it easily."

What he always did was to start five minutes
before the time and run. I do not know why,
but this was the custom of the suburb. Many
stout city gentlemen lived at Ealing in those days
— I believe some live there still — and caught
early trains to the city. They all started late ;
they all carried a black bag and a newspaper in
one hand and an umbrella in the other ; and for
the last quarter of a mile to the station, wet or
fine, they all ran.

Folks with nothing else to do, nurse maids,
chiefly, and errand boys, with now and then a
perambulating costermonger added, would gather
on the Common of a fine morning to watch
them pass and cheer the most deserving. It
was not a showy spectacle. They did not run
well ; they did not even run fast ; but they were
earnest, and they did their best. The exhibi-
tion appealed less to one's sense of art than
to one's natural admiration for conscientious
effort.

Occasionally a little harmless betting would
take place among the crowd.

74

Awakening at Beggarbush

" Two to one agin the old gent in the white
weskit ! "

" Ten to one on old Blowpipes, bar he don't
roll over hisself 'fore 'e gets there."

" Even money on the Purple Hemperor ! " —
a nickname bestowed by a youth of entomologi-
cal tastes upon a certain retired military neigh-
bour of my uncle's, a gentleman of imposing
appearance when stationary, but apt to colour
highly under exercise.

My uncle and the others would write to the
Ealing Press, complaining bitterly concerning
the supineness of the local police ; and the editor
would add spirited leaders upon the Decay of
Courtesy Among the Lower Orders, especially
throughout the Western suburbs. But no good
ever resulted.

It was not that my uncle did not rise early
enough ; it was that troubles came to him at the
last moment. The first thing he would do after
breakfast would be to lose his newspaper. We
always knew when Uncle Podger had lost any-
thing by the expression of astonished indignation
with which on such occasions he would regard
the world in general. It never occurred to my
Uncle Podger to say to himself:

" I am a careless old man. I lose everything.
I never know where I have put anything. I am
quite incapable of finding it again for myself.
In this respect I must be a perfect nuisance to

75

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

everybody about me. I must set to work and
reform myself."

On the contrary, by some peculiar course of
reasoning he had convinced himself that, when-
ever he lost a thing it was everybody's fault in
the house but his own.

" I had it in my hand here not a minute
ago ! " he would exclaim.

From his tone you might have thought he was
living surrounded by conjurors, who spirited
things away from him merely to irritate him.

" Could you have left it in the garden ? " my
aunt would suggest.

" What should I want to leave it in the garden
for ? I don't want a paper in the garden. I
want the paper in the train with me."

" You have n't put it in your pocket ? "

" Bless the woman ! Do you think I should
be standing here at five minutes to nine looking
for it if I had it in my pocket all the while ? Do
you think I 'm a fool ? "

Here somebody would exclaim : " What 's
this ? " and hand him from somewhere a paper
neatly folded.

" I do wish people would leave my things
alone," he would growl, snatching at it savagely.

He would open his bag to put it in, and then,
glancing at it, he would pause, speechless with
sense of injury.

" What 's the matter ? " Aunt would ask.
76

Awakening at Beggarbush

" The day before yesterday's ! " he would
answer, too hurt even to shout, throwing the
paper down upon the table.

If only sqmetimes it had been yesterday's it
wrould have been a change. But it was always
the day before yesterday's, except on Tuesdays ;
then it would be Saturday's.

We would find it for him eventually — as
often as not he had been sitting on it. And then
he would smile, not genially, but with the weari-
ness that comes to a man who feels that Fate has
cast his lot among a band of hopeless idiots.

" All the time right in front of your noses — !"
He would not finish the sentence ; he prided
himself upon his self-control.

This settled, he would start for the hall, where
it was the custom of my Aunt Maria to have the
children gathered, ready to say good-by to him.

My aunt never left the house herself, if only
to make a call next door, without taking a tender
farewell of every inmate. One never knew, she
would say, what might happen.

One of them, of course, was sure to be miss-
ing, and the moment this was noticed all the
other six, without an instant's hesitation5 would
scatter with a whoop to find it.

Immediately they were gone it would turn up
by itself from somewhere quite near, always with
the most reasonable explanations for its absence,
and would at once start off after the others to

77

T'bree Men on W^heels

explain to them that it was found. In this way
five minutes at least would be taken up in every-
body's looking for everybody else, which was
just sufficient time to allow my uncle to find his
umbrella and lose his hat. When, at last, the
group reassembled in the hall, the drawing-room
clock would commence to strike nine. It pos-
sessed a cold, penetrating chime, that always had
the effect of confusing my uncle. In his excite-
ment he would kiss some of the children twice
over, pass by others, forget whom he had kissed
and whom he had n't, and have to begin all over
again. He used to say he believed they mixed
themselves up on purpose, and I am not pre-
pared to maintain that the charge was altogether
false. To add to his troubles, one child always
had a sticky face, and that child would always be
the most affectionate.

If things were going too smoothly, the eldest
boy would come out with some tale about all the
clocks in the house being five minutes slow, and
of his having been late for school the previous
day in consequence. This would send my uncle
rushing impetuously down to the gate, where he
would recollect that he had with him neither his
bag nor his umbrella. All the children that my
aunt could not stop would charge after him, two
of them struggling for the umbrella, the others
surging around the bag. And when they re-
turned we would discover on the hall table the

78

W re walked up to a hansom "

Awakening at Beggarbush

most important thing of all that he had forgotten,
and wonder what he would say about it when he
came home.

We arrived at Waterloo a little after nine .and
at once proceeded to put George's experiment
into operation. Opening the book at the chap-
ter entitled " At the Cab Rank/' we walked up
to a hansom, raised our hats and wished the
driver " Good morning."

This man was not to be outdone in politeness
by any foreigner, real or imitation. Calling to a
friend named " Charles " to " hold the steed," he
sprang from his box and returned to us a bow
that would have done credit to Mr. Turveydrop
himself. Speaking apparently in the name of
the nation, he welcomed us to England, adding
a regret that Her Majesty was not at the moment
in London.

We could not reply to him in kind ; nothing
of this sort had been anticipated by the book.
We called him tc coachman," at which he again
bowed to the pavement, and asked him if he
would have the goodness to drive us to the
Westminster Bridge Road.

He laid his hand upon his heart and said the
pleasure would be his.

Taking the third sentence in the chapter,
George asked him what his fare would be.

The question, as introducing a sordid element
into the conversation, seemed to hurt his feelings.

79

r e e Men on W^h eels

He said he never took money from distinguished
strangers ; he suggested a souvenir — a diamond
scarfpin, a gold snuff-box, some little trifle of
that sort by which he could remember us.

As a small crowd had collected, and as the
joke was drifting rather too far in the cabman's
direction, we climbed in without further parley
and were driven away amid cheers. We stopped
the cab at a boot-shop, a little past Astley's
Theatre, that looked the sort of place we wanted.
It was one of those overfed shops that the
moment their shutters are taken down in the
morning disgorge their goods all around them.
Boxes of boots stood piled on the pavement or
in the gutter opposite. Boots hung in festoons
about its doors and windows. Its sunblind was
as some grimy vine, bearing bunches of black
and brown boots. Inside, the shop was a bower
of boots. The man, when we entered, was busy
with a chisel and hammer opening a new crateful
of boots.

George raised his hat and said " Good morn-
ing."

The man did not even turn around. He
struck me from the first as a disagreeable man.
He grunted something which might have been
"Good-morning" or might not, and went on
with his work.

George said : " I have been recommended to
your shop by my friend, Mr. X."

80

Awakening at Beggarbush

In response the man should have said: "Mr.
X. is a most worthy gentleman. It will give
me the greatest pleasure to serve any friend of
his."

What he did say was : " Don't know him ;
never heard of him."

This was disconcerting. The book gave
three or four methods of buying boots. George
had carefully selected the one centred around
" Mr. X." as being of all the most courtly. You
talked a good deal with the shopkeeper about
this " Mr. X.," and then, when by this means
friendship and understanding had been estab-
lished, you slid naturally and gracefully into the
immediate object of your coming, namely, your
desire for boots, " cheap but good." This gross,
material man cared apparently nothing for the
niceties of retail dealing. It was necessary with
such a one to come to business with brutal direct-
ness. George abandoned " Mr. X.," and turning
back to a previous page, took a sentence at ran-
dom. It was not a happy selection : it was a
speech that would have been superfluous made
to any bootmaker. Under the present circum-
stances, threatened and stifled as we were on every
side by boots, it possessed the dignity of positive
imbecility. It ran :

" One has told me that you have here boots
for sale."

For the first time the man put down his ham-
6 81

Th r e e Men on ffih eels

mer and chisel and looked at us. He spoke
slowly, in a thick and husky voice. He said :

"What d'ye think I keep boots for — to
smell 'em?"

He was one of those men that begin quietly
and grow more angry as they proceed, their
wrongs apparently working within them yeast-
like.

" What d' ye think I am," he continued, " a
boot collector? What d'ye think I'm running
this shop for — my health ? D' ye think I love
the boots, and can't bear to part with a pair ?
D' ye think I hang them about here to look at
'em ? Ain't there enough of 'em ? Where d' ye
think you are — in an international exhibition of
boots? What d'ye think these boots are — a
historical collection ? Did you ever hear of a
man keeping a bootshop and not selling boots ?
D' ye think I decorate the shop with 'em to make
it look pretty ? What d' ye take me for — a prize
idiot?"

I have always maintained that these conver-
sation books are never of any real use. What
we wanted was some English equivalent for the
well-known German idiom: " Eehalten Sie Ihr
Haar auf." Nothing of the sort was to be found
in the book from beginning to end. However,
I will do George the credit to admit he chose
the very best sentence that was to be found
therein and applied it. He said :

82

Awakening at Beggarbush

" I will come again, when, perhaps, you will
have some more boots to show me. Till then,
adieu ! "

With that we returned to our cab and drove
away, leaving the man standing in the centre of
his boot-decked doorway addressing remarks to
us. What he said I did not hear, but the passers-
by appeared to find it interesting.

George was for stopping at another bootshop
and trying the experiment afresh. He said he
really did want a pair of bedroom slippers. But
we persuaded him to postpone their purchase
until our arrival in some foreign city, where the
trades-people are no doubt more inured to this
sort of talk, or else more naturally amiable. On
the subject of the hat, however, he was adamant.
He maintained that without that he could not
travel, and accordingly we pulled up at a small
shop in the Blackfriar's Road.

The proprietor of this shop was a cheery,
bright-eyed little man, and he helped us rather
than hindered us. When George asked him in
the words of the book, " Have you any hats?"
he did not get angry, he just stopped and
thoughtfully scratched his chin.

"Hats,"' said he, "let me think. Yes" —
here a smile of positive pleasure broke over his
genial countenance — cc yes, now I come to think
of it, I believe I have a hat. But, tell me, why
do you ask me ? "

83

*Th r e e M en on W 'h eels

George explained to him that he wished to
purchase a cap, a travelling cap, but the essence
of the transaction was that it was to be " a good
cap."

The man's face fell. "Ah," he remarked,
" there I am afraid you have me. Now, if you
had wanted a bad cap, not worth the price asked
for it ; a cap good for nothing but to clean win-
dows with, I could have found you the very
thing. But a good cap — no, we don't keep
them.

" But wait a minute," he continued on seeing
the disappointment that spread over George's
expressive countenance ; " don't be in a hurry.
I have a cap here," he went to a drawer and
opened it. " It is not a good cap, but it is not
so bad as most of the caps I sell." He brought
it forward extended on his palm. cc What do
you think of that ? " he asked ; " could you put
up with that?"

George fitted it on before the glass, and choos-
ing another remark from the book, said :

" This hat fits me sufficiently well, but tell
me, do you consider that it becomes me ? "

The man stepped back and took a bird's-eye
view.

" Candidly," he replied, " I can't say that it
does." He turned from George and addressed
himself to Harris and myself. " Your friend's
beauty," said he, " I should describe as elusive.

84

u George explained that he wished to purchase a cap "

Awakening at Beggar bush

It is there, but you can easily miss it. Now, in
that cap, to my thinking, you do miss it."

At this point it occurred to George that he
had had sufficient fun with this particular man.
He said :

" That is all right. We don't want to lose
the train. How much ? "

Answered the man : " The price of that cap,
sir, which in my opinion is twice as much as it
is worth, is four and six. Would you like it
wrapped up in brown paper, sir, or in white ? "

George said he would take it as it was, paid
the man four and sixpence in silver and- went
out. Harris and I followed.

At Fenchurch Street we compromised with
our cabman for five shillings. He made us
another courtly bow, and begged us to remember
him to the Emperor of Austria.

Comparing views in the train, we agreed that
we had lost the game by two points to one, and
George, who was evidently disappointed, threw
the book out of the window. We found our
luggage and bicycles safe on the boat, and with
the tide at twelve dropped down the river.

V.— THE UNIVERSAL EDUCATOR

A STORY is told of a Scotchman,
who, loving a lassie, desired her for
his wife. But he possessed the pru-
dence of his race. He had noticed
in his circle many an otherwise prom-
ising union result in disappointment and dismay
purely in consequence of the false estimate formed
by bride or bridegroom concerning the imagined
perfectability of the other. He determined that
in his own case no collapsed ideal should be
possible. Therefore it was that his proposal
took the following form :

. "I'm but a puir lad, Jennie; I hae nae siller
to offer ye, and nae land."

" Ah, but ye hae yoursel', Davie."
" An* I 'm wishfu' it wa' onything else, lassie.
I 'm nae but a puir, ill-seasoned loon, Jennie."

" Na, na ; there 's mony a lad mair ill-lookin'
than yoursel', Davie."

" I ha' nae seen him, lass, and I 'm just a-
thinkin' I shouldna' care to."

" Better a plain man, Davie, that ye can depend
a', than ane that would be a speirin' at the lassies,
a bringin' trouble into the hame wi' his flouting
ways."

86

Th e Universal Educator

" Dinna ye reckon on that, Jennie; it's nae
the bonniest Bubbly Jock that maks the most
feathers to fly in the kail-yard. I was ever a lad
to run after the petticoats, as is weel kent; an'
it's a weary handfu' I '11 be to ye, I 'm thinkin'."

" Ah, but ye hae a kind heart, Davie ; an' ye
love me weel. I 'm sure on 't."

" I like ye weel enoo', Jennie, though I canna'
say how long the feeling may bide wi' me ; an'
I 'm kind enoo' when I hae my ain way, an'
naethin' happens to put me oot. But I hae the
deevil's ain temper, as my mither can tell ye, an',
like my puir fayther, I'm a-thinkin' I'll grow
nae better as I grow mair auld."

" Ay, but ye 're sair hard upon yersel', Davie.
Ye 're an honest lad. I ken ye better than ye
ken yersel', an' ye '11 mak a guid hame for me."

"Maybe, Jennie. But I hae my doots. It's
a sair thing for wife an' bairns when the guid man
canna keep awa' frae the glass ; an' when the
scent of the whuskey comes to me it 's just as
though I hae'd the throat o' a Loch Tay salmon ;
it just gaes doon an' doon an' doon, an' there's
nae fillin' o' me."

cc Ay, but ye 're a guid man when ye 're sober,
Davie."

" Maybe I '11 be that, Jennie, if I 'm nae
disturbed."

" An' ye '11 bide wi' me, Davie, an' work for
me?"

Tb r e e M en on fflh eels

" I see nae reason why I shouldna bide wi'
ye, Jennie ; but dinna ye clack aboot work to
me, for I just canna abear the thocht o't."

" Anyhow, ye '11 do your best, Davie ? As the
minister says : nae man can do mair than that."

" An* it 's a puir best that mine '11 be, Jennie,
an' I 'm nae sure ye '11 hae ower muckle even o'
that. We 're a' weak, sinfu' creatures, Jennie, an'
ye 'd hae some deeficulty to find a man weaker
or mair sinfu' than mysel'."

u Weel, weel, ye hae a truthfu' tongue, Davie.
Mony a lad will mak fine promises to a puir
lassie, only to break 'em an' her heart wi' 'em.
Ye speak me fair, Davie, an' I 'm thinkin' I '11
just tak ye, an' see what comes o't."

Concerning what did come of it the story is
silent, but one feels that under no circumstances
had the lady any right to complain of her bar-
gain. Whether she ever did or did not — for
women do not invariably order their tongues
according to logic, nor men either, for the matter
of that — Davie, himself, must have the satis-
faction of reflecting that all reproaches were
undeserved.

I wish to be equally frank with the reader of
these papers. I wish here conscientiously to set
forth their shortcomings. I wish no one to read
these papers under a misapprehension.

There will be no useful information in these
papers.

88

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Any one who should think that with the aid
of this story he would be able to make a tour
through Germany and the Black Forest would
probably lose himself before he got to the Nore.
That, at all events, would be the best thing that
could happen to him. The farther away from
home he got, the greater only would be his
difficulties.

I do not regard the conveyance of useful in-
formation as my forte. This belief was not
inborn with me ; it has been driven home upon
me by experience.

In my early journalistic days I served upon a
paper, the forerunner of many very popular
periodicals of the present day. Our boast was
that we combined instruction with amusement ;
as to what should be regarded as affording amuse-
ment and what instruction the reader judged for
himself. We gave advice to people about to
marry — long, earnest advice that would, had they
followed it, have made our circle of readers the
envy of the whole married world. We told our
subscribers how to make fortunes by keeping
rabbits, giving facts and figures. The thing that
must have surprised them was that we ourselves
did not give up journalism and start rabbit farm-
ing. Often and often have I proved conclusively
from authoritative sources how any man starting
a rabbit farm with twelve selected rabbits and
a little judgment must at the end of three years

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Tb r e e Men on Wh eels

be in receipt of an income of two thousand a year,
rising rapidly. He simply could not help him-
self. He might not want the money. He might
not know what to do with it when he had it.
But there it was for him. I have never met a
rabbit farmer myself worth two thousand a year,
though I have known many start with the six
necessary assorted couples. Something has al-
ways gone wrong somewhere ; maybe the con-
tinued atmosphere of a rabbit farm saps the
judgment.

We told our readers how many bald-headed
men there were in Iceland, and for all we knew
our figures may have been correct ; how many
red herrings placed tail to mouth it would take
to reach from London to Rome, which must
have been useful to any one desirous to lay down
a line of red herrings from London to Rome,
enabling them to order in the right quantity at
the beginning; how many words the average
woman spoke in a day ; and other such like items
of information calculated to make them wise and
great beyond the readers of other journals.

We told them how to cure fits in cats. Per-
sonally, I do not believe, and I did not believe
then, that you can cure fits in cats. If I had a
cat subject to fits I should advertise it for sale,
or even give it away. But our duty was to
supply information when asked for. Some fool
wrote, clamouring to know ; and I spent the best

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7 ' h e Universal Educator

part of a morning seeking knowledge on the
subject. I found what I wanted at length at the
end of an old cookery book. What it was doing
there I have never been able to understand. It
had nothing to do with the proper subject of the
book whatever; there was no suggestion that
you could make anything savory out of a cat, even
when you had cured it of its fits. The authoress
had just thrown in this paragraph out of pure
generosity. I can only say that I wish she had
left it out ; it was the cause of a deal of angry
correspondence and of the loss of four subscribers
to the paper, if not more. The man said the
result of following our advice had been two
pounds' worth of damage to his kitchen crockery,
to say nothing of a broken window and probable
blood-poisoning to himself; added to which the
cat's fits were worse than before. And yet, it
was a simple enough recipe. You held the cat
between your legs, gently, so as not to hurt it,
and with a pair of scissors made a sharp, clean
cut in its tail. You did not cut off any part of
the tail, you were to be careful not to do that ;
you only made an incision.

As we explained to the man, the garden or the
coal-cellar would have been the proper place for
the operation ; no one but an idiot would have
attempted to perform it in a kitchen, and without
help.

We gave them hints on etiquette. We told
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them how to address peers and bishops ; also
how to eat soup. We instructed shy young men
how to acquire easy grace in drawing-rooms.
We taught dancing to both sexes by the aid of
diagrams. We solved their religious doubts for
them, and supplied them with a code of morals
that would have done credit to a stained-glass
window.

The paper was not a financial success — it was
some years before its time — and the consequence
was that our staff was limited. My own depart-
ment, I remember, included Advice to Mothers
— I wrote that with the assistance of my land-
lady, who, having divorced one husband and
buried four children, was, I considered, a reli-
able authority on all domestic affairs ; Hints on
Furnishing and Household Decorations — with
designs ; a column of Literary Counsel to Begin-
ners — I sincerely hope my guidance was of
better service to them than it ever was to myself;
and our weekly article, Straight Talks to Young
Men, signed " Uncle Henry." A kindly, genial
old fellow was Uncle Henry, with wide and
varied experience and a sympathetic attitude
toward the rising generation. He had been
through trouble himself in his far-back youth,
and knew most things. Even to this day I read
Uncle Henry's advice, and though I say it who
should not, it still seems to me good, sound

advice. I often think that had I followed Uncle

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Henry's counsel closer I would have been wiser,
made fewer mistakes, felt better satisfied with
myself than is now the case.

A quiet, weary little woman, who lived in a
bed-sitting-room off the Tottenham Court Road,
and who had a husband in a lunatic asylum, did
our Cooking Column, our Hints on Education
— we were full of hints — and a page and a half
of Fashionable Intelligence, written in the pertly
personal style which even yet has not altogether
disappeared, so I am informed, from modern
journalism : " I must tell you about the divine
frock I wore at c Glorious Goodwood ' last week.
Prince C. But there, I really must not re-
peat all the things the silly fellow says ; he is too
foolish, and the dear Countess, I fancy, was just
the weeish bit jealous" — and so on.

Poor little woman ! I see her now, in the
shabby gray alpaca with the ink stains on it.
Perhaps a day at " Glorious Goodwood " or any-
where else in the fresh air might have put some
colour into her cheeks.

Our proprietor — one of the most unashamedly
ignorant men I ever met — I remember his
'gravely informing a correspondent once that
Ben Jonson had written Rabelais to pay for
his mother's funeral, and only laughing good-
naturedly when his mistakes were pointed out to
him — wrote, with the aid of a cheap encyclopae-
dia, the pages devoted to General Information, and

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Tb r e e Men on Jf^b eels

did them on the whole remarkably well ; while
our office-boy, with an excellent pair of scissors

" Our office-boy was responsible for our Wit and Humour"

for his assistant, was responsible for our supply
of Wit and Humour.

It was hard work, and the pay was poor:
what sustained us was the consciousness that we

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were instructing and improving our fellow men
and women. Of all games in the world, the one
most universally and eternally popular is the
game of School. You collect six children and
put them on a doorstep, while you walk up and
down with the book and cane. We play it when
babies, we play it when boys and girls, we play it
when men and women, we play it as, lean and
slippered, we totter toward the grave. It never
palls upon, it never wearies us. Only one thing
mars it : the tendency of one and all of the other
six children to clamour for their turn with the
book and the cane. The reason, I am sure, that
journalism is so popular a calling in spite of its
many drawbacks, is this : each journalist feels he
is the boy walking up and down with the cane.
The Government, the Classes and the Masses,
Society, Art and Literature, are the other chil-
dren sitting on the doorstep. He instructs and
improves them.

But I digress. It was to excuse my present
permanent disinclination to be the vehicle of
useful information that I recalled these matters.
Let us now return.

Somebody, signing himself Balloonist, had writ-
ten to ask concerning the manufacture of hydrogen
gas. It is an easy thing to manufacture — at least,
so I gathered after reading up the subject at the
British Museum ; yet I did warn Balloonist,
whoever he might be, to take all necessary pre-
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caution against accident. What more could I
have done ? Ten days afterward a florid-faced
lady called at the office, leading by the hand what
she explained was her son, aged twelve. The
boy's face. was unimpressive to a degree positively
remarkable. His mother pushed him forward and
took off his hat, and then I perceived the reason
for this. He had no eyebrows whatever, and of
his hair nothing remained but a scrubby dust,
giving to his head the appearance of a hard-boiled
egg, skinned and sprinkled with black pepper.

" That was a handsome lad this time last week,
with naturally curly hair," remarked the lady.
She spoke with a rising inflection, suggestive of
the beginning of things.

" What has happened to change him ? " asked
our chief.

"This is what's happened to him," retorted
the lady. She drew from her muff a copy of our
last week's issue, with my article on hydrogen
gas scored in pencil, and flung it before his eyes.
Our chief took it and read it through.

" He was Balloonist? " queried the chief.

" He was Balloonist," admitted the lady ; " the
poor, innocent child, and now look at him ! "

" Maybe it '11 grow again," suggested our chief.

" Maybe it will," retorted the lady, her key
continuing to rise, " and maybe it won't. What
I want to know is what you are going to do for

him."

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/ really dont see that It is our fault ' '

T h e Universal Educator

Our chief suggested a hair-wash. I thought
at first she was going to fly at him, but for
the moment she confined herself to words. It
appeared she was not thinking of a hair-wash, but
of compensation. She also made observations on
the general character of our paper, its utility, its
claim to public support, the sense and wisdom of
its contributors.

" I really don't see that it is our fault," urged
the chief — he was a mild-mannered man; "he
asked for information, and he got it."

cc Don't you try to be funny about it," said the
lady (he had not meant to be funny, I am sure ;
levity was not his failing) " or you '11 get some-
thing that you have n't asked for. Why, for two
pins," said the lady with a suddenness that sent
us both flying like scuttled chickens behind our
respective chairs, " I 'd come around and make
your head like it ! " I take it she meant like the
boy's. She also added observations upon our
chief's personal appearance that were distinctly
in bad taste. She was not a nice woman, by any
means.

Myself, I am of opinion that had she brought
the action she threatened she would have had
no case, but our chief was a man who had had
experience with the law, and his principle was
always to avoid it. I have heard him say :

" If a man stopped me in the street and
demanded of me my watch, I should refuse to
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Th r e e Men on W^h eels

give it to him. If he threatened to take it by
force, I feel I should, though not a fighting man,
do my best to protect it. If, on the other hand,
he should assert his intention of trying to obtain
it by means of an action in any court of law, I
should take it out of my pocket and hand it to
him, and think I had got off cheaply."

He squared the matter with the florid-faced
lady for a five-pound note, which must have
represented a month's profits on the paper ; and
she departed, taking her damaged offspring with
her. After she was gone our chief spoke kindly
to me. He said :

" Don't think I am blaming you in the least ;
it is not your fault ; it is Fate. Keep to the
moral advice and the criticism ; there you are
distinctly good ; but don't try your hand any
more at Useful Information. As I have said, it
is not your fault. Your information is correct
enough ; there is nothing to be said against that ;
it simply is that you are not lucky with it."

I would that I had followed his advice always ;
I would have saved myself and other people
much disaster. I see no reason why it should
be, but so it is. If I instruct a man as to the
best route between London and Rome, he loses
his luggage in Switzerland, or is nearly ship-
wrecked off Dover. If I counsel him in the
purchase of a camera, he gets run in by the
German police for photographing fortresses. I

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once took a deal of trouble to explain to a man
how to marry his deceased wife's sister at Stock-
holm. I found out for him the time the boat
left Hull and the best hotels to stop at. There
was not a single mistake from beginning to end
in the information with which I supplied him ;
no hitch occurred anywhere ; yet now he never
speaks to me.

Therefore it is that I have come to restrain
my passion for the giving of information. There-
fore it is that nothing in, the nature of practical
instruction will be found, if I can help it, within
these pages.

There will be- no description of towns, no his-
torical reminiscences, no architecture, no morals.

I once asked an intelligent foreigner what he
thought of London.

He said : " It is a very big town."

I said : " What struck you most about it ? "

He replied : " The people."

I said : " Compared with other towns — Paris,
Rome, Berlin — what did you think of it ? "

He shrugged his shoulders. " It is bigger,"
he said ; " what more can one say ? "

One ant-hill is very much like another. So
many avenues, wide or narrow, where the little
creatures swarm in strange confusion ; these bust-
ling by, important ; these halting to pow-wow
with one another. These struggling with big
burdens ; these but basking in the sun. So

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many granaries stored with food ; so many cells
where the little things sleep, and eat, and love ;
the corner where lie their little white bones.
This hive is larger, the next smaller. This nest
lies on the sand, and another under the stones.
This was built but yesterday, while that was
fashioned ages ago, some say even before the
swallows came ; who knows ?

Nor will there be found herein folklore or
story.

Every valley where lie homesteads has its
song. I will tell you the plot ; you can turn it
into verse and set it to music of your own.

There lived a lass, and there came a lad, who
loved and rode away.

It is a monotonous song, written in many
languages ; for the young man seems to have
been a mighty traveller. Here in sentimental
Germany they remember him well. So also the
dwellers of the Blue Alsatian Mountains re-
member his coming among them ; while, if my
memory serves me truly, he likewise visited the
Banks of Allan Water. A veritable Wandering
Jew is he ; for still the foolish girls listen, so
they say, to the dying away of his hoofbeats.

In this land of many ruins, that long while ago
were voice-filled homes, linger many legends ;
and here again, giving you the essentials, I leave
you to cook the dish for yourself. Take a
human heart or two, assorted ; a bundle of human

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Universal Educator

passions — there are not many of them, half a
dozen at the most; season with a mixture of
6^J and evil ; flavour the whole with the sauce
of death, and serve up where and when you will.
The Saint's Cell, The Haunted Keep, The Dun-
geon Grave, The Lover's Leap — call it what
you will, the stew 's the same.

Lastly, in these papers there will be no scenery.
This is not laziness on my part ; it is self-control.
Nothing is easier to write than scenery ; nothing
more difficult and unnecessary to read. When
Gib Bon had to trust to travellers' tales for a
description of the Hellespont, and the Rhine was
chiefly familiar to English students through the
medium of Caesar's Commentaries, it behooved
every globe-trotter, for whatever distance, to
describe to the best of his ability the things that
he had seen. Doctor Johnson, familiar with little
else than the view down Fleet Street, could read
the description of a Yorkshire moor with pleasure
and with profit. To a Cockney who had never
seen higher ground than the Hog's Back in Sur-
rey, an account of Snowdon must have appeared
exciting. But we, or rather the steam engine
and the camera for us, have changed all that.
The man who plays tennis every year at the foot
of the Matterhorn, and billiards on the summit
of the Rigi, does not thank you for an elaborate
and painstaking description of the Grampian
Hills. To the average man, who has seen a

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dozen oil paintings, a hundred photographs, a
thousand pictures in the illustrated journals, and
a couple of panoramas of Niagara, the word-
painting of a waterfall is tedious.

An American friend of mine, a cultured gentle-
man, who loved poetry well enough for its own
sake, told me that he had obtained a more correct
and more satisfying idea of the Lake district from
an eighteen-penny book of photographic views
than from all the works of Coleridge, Southey
and Wordsworth put together. I also remember
his saying, concerning this subject of scenery in
literature, that he would thank an author as
much for writing an eloquent description of
what he had just had for dinner. But this was
in reference to another argument, namely, the
proper province of each art ; my friend maintain-
ing that, just as canvas and colour were the wrong
mediums for story-telling, so word-painting was,
at its best, but a clumsy method of conveying
impressions that could much better be received
through the eye.

As regards the question, there also lingers in
my memory very distinctly a hot school after-
noon. The class was for English literature, and
the proceedings commenced with the reading of
a certain lengthy but otherwise unobjectionable
poem. The author's name, I am ashamed to
say, I have forgotten, together with the title of
the poem. The reading finished, we closed our

The Universal Educator

books, and the Professor, a kindly, white-haired
old gentleman, suggested our giving in our own
words an account of what we had just read.

"c ComeJ urged the Professor"

" Tell me," said the Professor encouragingly,
"what it is all about."

" Please, sir," said the first boy — he spoke
with bowed head and evident reluctance, as though

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Th r e e Men on W^h eels

the subject were one which, left to himself, he
would never have mentioned — " it is about a
maiden."

" Yes," agreed the Professor, " but I want you
to tell me in your own words. We do not speak
of a maiden, you know ; we say a girl. Yes, it is
about a girl ; go on."

" A girl," repeated the top boy, the substitution
apparently increasing his embarrassment, "who
lived in a wood."

" What sort of a wood ? " asked the Professor.

The first boy examined his ink-pot carefully,
and then looked at the ceiling.

" Come," urged the Professor, growing impa-
tient ; " you have been reading about this wood
for the last ten minutes. Surely you can tell me
something about it."

" The gnarly trees, their twisted branches — "
recommenced the top boy.

" No, no," interrupted the Professor ; " I do
not want you to repeat the poem. I want you to
tell me in your own words what sort of a wood
it was where the girl lived."

The Professor tapped his foot impatiently ; the
top boy made a dash for it.

" Please, sir, it was the usual sort of a wood."

The Professor gave up the top boy as hopeless.

" Tell him what sort of a wood," said he, point-
ing to the second lad.

The second boy said it was a " green wood."
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This annoyed the Professor still more ; he called
the second boy a blockhead, though really I can-
not see why, and passed on to the third, who for
the last half minute had been sitting apparently
on hot plates, with his right arm waving up and
down like a distracted semaphore signal. He
would have had to say it the next second whether
the Professor had asked him or not ; he was red
in the face, holding in his knowledge.

" A dark and gloomy wood," shouted the third
boy, with much relief to his feelings.

"A dark and gloomy wood," repeated the
Professor, with evident approval. " And why was
it dark and gloomy ? "

The third boy was still equal to the occasion.

" Because the sun could not get inside it."

The Professor felt he had discovered the poet
of the class.

" Because the sun could not get into it, or bet-
ter, because the sunbeams could not penetrate.
And why could not the sunbeams penetrate
there ? "

" Please, sir, because the leaves were too thick."

"Very well," said the Professor. "The girl
lived in a dark and gloomy wood, through the
leafy canopy* of which the sunbeams were unable
to pierce. Now, what grew in this wood ? " He
pointed to the fourth boy.

" Please, sir, trees, sir."

" And what else ? "

Th r e e Men on W^h eels

" Toadstools, sir." This after a pause.

The Professor was not quite sure about the
toadstools, but on referring to the text he found
that the boy was right ; toadstools had been
mentioned.

" Quite right," admitted the Professor ; " toad-
stools grew there. And what else ? What do
you ''find underneath trees in a wood ? "

" Please, sir, earth, sir."

" No, no ; what grows in a wood besides trees ? "

" Oh, please, sir, bushes, sir."

" Bushes ; very good. Now we are getting en.
In this wood there were trees and bushes. And
what else?"

He pointed to a small boy near the bottom
who, having decided that the wood was too far
off to be of any annoyance to himself individually,
was occupying his leisure playing noughts and
crosses against himself. Vexed and bewildered,
but feeling it necessary to add something to the
inventory, he hazarded blackberries. This was a
mistake ; the poet had not mentioned blackberries.

" Of course Klobstock would think of some-
thing to eat," commented the Professor, who
prided himself on his ready wit. This raised a
laugh against Klobstock, and pleased the Professor.

" You," continued he, pointing to a boy in the
middle ; " what else was there in this wood be-
sides trees and bushes ? "

" Please, sir, there was a torrent there."
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" Quite right ; and what did the torrent do ? "

" Please, sir, it gurgled."

" No, no. Streams gurgle, torrents "

" Roar, sir."

" It roared. And what made it roar ? " %

This was a poser. One boy — he was not our
prize intellect, I admit — suggested the girl. To
help us, the Professor put his question in another
form, —

" When did it roar ? "

Our third boy, again coming to our rescue,
explained that it roared when it fell down among
the rocks. I think some of us had a vague idea
that it must have been a cowardly torrent to make
such a noise about a little thing like this ; a
pluckier torrent, we felt, would have got up and
gone on, saying nothing about it. A torrent that
roared every time it fell upon a rock we deemed
a poor-spirited torrent ; but the Professor seemed
quite content with it.

" And what lived in this wood beside the girl ? "
was the next question.

" Please, sir, birds, sir."

" Yes, birds lived in this wood. What else ? "

Birds seemed to have exhausted our ideas.

" Come," said the Professor, " what are those
animals with tails, that run up trees ? "

We thought for a while, then one of us sug-
gested cats.

This was an error ; the poet had said nothing
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about cats ; squirrels was what the Professor was
trying to get.

I do not recall much more about this wood in
detail. I only recollect that the sky was intro-
duced into it. In places where there occurred an
opening among the trees you could by looking
up see the sky above you ; very often there were
clouds in the sky, and occasionally, if I remember
rightly, the girl got wet.

I have dwelt upon this incident because it seems
to me suggestive of the whole question of scenery
in literature. I could not at the time, I cannot
now, understand why the top boy's summary was
not sufficient. With all due deference to the
poet, whoever he may have been, one cannot but
acknowledge that his wood was, and could not b*e
otherwise than, " the usual sort of a wood."

I could describe the Black Forest to you at
great length. I could translate to you Hebel, the
poet of the Black Forest. I could write pages
concerning its rocky gorges and its smiling val-
leys, its pine-clad slopes, its rock-crowned sum-
mits, its foaming rivulets (where the tidy German
has not condemned them to flow respectably
through wooden troughs or drainpipes), its white
villages, its lonely farmsteads.

But I am haunted by the suspicion you might
skip all this. Were you sufficiently conscientious
— or weak-minded enough — not to do so, I
should, all said and done, succeed in conveying

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to you only an impression much better summed
up in the simple words of the unpretentious
guide-book :

" A picturesque, mountainous district, bounded
on the south and the west by the plain of the
Rhine, towards which its spurs descend precipi-
tately. Its geological formation consists chiefly
of variegated sandstone and granite ; its lower
heights being covered with extensive pine forests.
It is well watered with numerous streams, while
its populous valleys are fertile and well cultivated.
The inns are good ; but the local wines should be
partaken of by the stranger with discretion."

109

VI. — AN AQUATIC ADVENTURE
AT HAMBURG

WE arrived at Hamburg on Friday,
after a smooth and uneventful
voyage ; and from Hamburg we
travelled to Berlin by way of
Hanover. It is not the most
direct route. I can only account for our visit to
Hanover, as the Darkey accounted to the magis-
trate for his appearance in the Deacon's poultry
yard.

" Yes, sah, what the constable sez is quite true,
sah ; I wuz dar, sah."

" Oh, so you admit it ? And what were you
doing with a sack, pray, in Deacon Abraham's
poultry yard at twelve o'clock at night ? "

" I 'se gwine ter tell yer, sah ; yes, sah. I 'd
been to Massa Jordan's wid a sack of melons.
Yes, sah ; an' Massa Jordan he wuz very 'greeable,
an' ax'd me fer ter come in."
"Well?"
" Yes, sah, very 'greeable man is Massa Jordan.

An' dar we sat a-talkin' an' a-talkin' "

" Very likely. What we want to know is what
you were doing in the Deacon's poultry yard ? "

" Yes, sah, dat 's what I 'se comin' to. It wuz
ver' late 'fore I left Massa Jordan's, an' den I sez

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An Aquatic Adventure

ter mysel', sez I, now yer jest step out wid yer
best leg foremost, Ulysses, case yer gets inter
trouble wid de ole woman. Ver' talkative woman
she is, sah, very "

" Yes, never mind her ; there are other people
very talkative in this town besides your wife.
Deacon Abraham's house is half a mile out of
your way home from Mr. Jordan's. How did
you get there ? "

" Dat 's what I 'm a-gwine ter explain, sah."

" I am glad of that. And how do you pro-
pose to do it ? "

" Well, I 'se thinking sah, I must ha' digressed."

I take it we digressed a little.

At first, from some reason or other, Hanover
strikes you as an uninteresting town, but it grows
upon you. It is in reality two towns : a place of
broad, modern, handsome streets and tasteful
gardens, side by side with a sixteenth century
town, where old timbered houses overhang the
narrow lanes ; where through low archways one
catches glimpses of galleried courtyards, once
often thronged, no doubt, with troops of horse,
or blocked with lumbering coach and six, waiting
its rich merchant owner and his fat, placid Frau ;
but where now children and chickens scuttle at
their will, while over the carved balconies hang
dingy clothes a-drying.

A singularly English atmosphere hangs over
Hanover, especially on Sundays, when its shut-
in

Three Men on Wheels

tered shops and clanging bells give to it the sug-
gestion of a sunnier London. Nor was this
British Sunday atmosphere apparent only to
myself, else I might have attributed it to imagi-
nation ; even George felt it. Harris and I,
returning from a short stroll with our cigars after
lunch on the Sunday afternoon, found him
placidly slumbering in the smoke-room's easiest
chair.

" After all," said Harris, " there is something
about the British Sunday that appeals to the man
with English blood in his veins. I should be
sorry to see it altogether done away with, let the
new generation say what it will."

And taking one each end of the ample settee,
we kept George company.

To Hanover one should go, they say, to learn
the best German. The disadvantage is that out-
side Hanover, which is only a small province,
nobody understands this best German. Thus
you have to decide whether to speak good Ger-
man and remain in Hanover or bad German and
travel about. Germany being separated so many
centuries into a dozen principalities is unfortunate
in possessing a variety of dialects. Germans
from Posen wishful to converse with men of
Wurtemberg have to talk as often as not in
French or English ; and young ladies who have
received an expensive education in Westphalia
surprise and disappoint their parents by being

112

An Aquatic Adventure

unable to understand a word said to them in
Mecklenberg. An English-speaking foreigner,
it is true, would find himself equally nonplussed
among the Yorkshire wolds, or in the purlieus of
Whitechapel ; but the cases are not on all fours.
Throughout Germany it is not only in the country
districts and among the uneducated that dialects
are maintained. Every province has practically
its own language, of which it is proud and
retentive. An educated Bavarian will admit to
you that academically speaking the North Ger-
man is more correct; but he will continue to
speak South German, and to teach it to his
children.

In the course of the century I am inclined to
think that Germany will solve her difficulty in
this respect by speaking English. Every boy
and girl in Germany, above the peasant class,
speaks English. Were English pronunciation
less arbitrary there is not the slightest doubt but
that in the course of a very few years, compara-
tively speaking, it would become the language of
the world. All foreigners agree that grammati-
cally it is the easiest language of any to learn. A
German, comparing it with his own language,
where every word in every sentence is governed
by at least four distinct and separate rules, tells
you that the English language has no grammar.
A good many English people would seem to have
come to the same conclusion ; but they are wrong.

8 113

Th r e e Men on TFh eels

As a matter of fact, there is an English grammar,
and one of these days our schools will recognise
the fact, and it will be taught to our children,
penetrating maybe even into literary and journal-
istic circles. But at present we appear to agree
with the foreigner that it is a quantity neglectable.
English pronunciation is the stumbling-block to
our progress. English spelling would seem to
have been designed chiefly as a disguise to pro-
nunciation. It is a clever idea, calculated to check
presumption on the part of the foreigner ; but for
that he would learn it in a year.

For they have a way of teaching languages in
Germany that is not our way ; and the conse-
quence is that when the German youth or maiden
leaves the gymnasium or high school at fifteen, it
(as in German one conveniently may say) can
understand and speak the tongue it has been
learning. In England we have a method that
for obtaining the least possible result at the
greatest possible expenditure of time and money
is perhaps unequalled. An English boy who
has been through a good middle-class school in
England can talk to a Frenchman, slowly and
with difficulty, about female gardeners and aunts,
conversation which, to a man possessed perhaps
of neither, is liable to pall. Possibly, if he be a
bright exception, he may be able to tell the time,
or make a few guarded observations concerning the
weather. No doubt he could repeat a goodly num-

114

An Aquatic Adventure

her of irregular verbs by heart, only, as a matter
of fact, few foreigners care to listen to their own
irregular verbs, recited by young Englishmen.
Likewise he might be able to remember a choice
selection of grotesquely involved French idioms,
such as no modern Frenchman has ever heard or
understands when he does hear.

The explanation is that, in nine cases out of
ten, he has learned French from an Ahn's First
Course. The history of this famous work is
remarkable and instructive. The book was
originally written for a joke by a witty French-
man who had resided for some years in England.
He intended it as a satire upon the conversational
powers of British society. From this point of
view it was distinctly good. He submitted it to
a London publishing firm. The manager was a
shrewd man. He read the book through. Then
he sent for the author.

" This book of yours," said he to the author,
" is very clever. I have laughed over it myself
till the tears came."

" I am delighted to hear you say so," replied
the pleased Frenchman. " I tried to be truthful
without being unnecessarily offensive."

" It is most amusing," concurred the manager;
" and yet, published as a harmless joke I feel it
would fail."

The author's face fell.

" Its humour," proceeded the manager, " would

T'hree Men on TFheels

be denounced as forced and extravagant. It
would amuse the thoughtful and intelligent, but
from a business point of view that portion of the
public is never worth consideration.

cc But I have an idea," continued the manager.
He glanced around the rdbm to be sure they
were alone and, leaning forward, sunk his voice
to a whisper.

" My notion is to publish it as a serious work
for the use of schools ! "

The author stared, speechless.

" I know the English schoolman," said the
manager; "this book will appeal to him. It
will exactly fit in with his method. Nothing
sillier, nothing more useless for the purpose will
he ever discover. He will smack his lips over
the book, as a puppy licks up blacking."

The author, sacrificing art to greed, consented.
They altered the title and added a vocabulary,
but left the book otherwise as it was.

The result is known to every schoolboy.
" Ahn " became the palladium of English philo-
logical education. If it no longer retains its
ubiquity it is because something even less adapt-
able to the object in view has been since invented.

Lest, in spite of all, the British schoolboy
should obtain even from the like of Ahn some
glimmering of French, the British educational
method further handicaps him by bestowing upon
him the assistance of what is termed in the pros-
it

An Aquatic Adventure

pectus "A Native Professor." This native French
gentleman, who, by the by, is generally a Belgian,
is no doubt a most worthy person, and can, it is
true, understand and speak his own language with
tolerable fluency. There his qualifications cease.
Invariably he is a man with a quite remarkable
inability to teach anybbdy anything. Indeed,
he would seem to be chosen not so much as an
instructor as an amuser of youth. He is always
a comic figure. No Frenchman of a dignified
appearance would be engaged for any English
school. If he possess by nature a few harmless
peculiarities, calculated to cause merriment, so
much the more is he esteemed by his employers.
The class naturally regards him as an animated
joke. The two to four hours a week that are de-
liberately wasted on this philological farce are
looked forward to by the boys as a comic interlude
in an otherwise monotonous existence. And
then, when the proud parent takes his son and
heir to Dieppe merely to discover that the lad
does not know enough to call a cab, he abuses
not the system but its innocent victim.

I confine my remarks to French, because that
is the only language, we attempt to teach our
youth. An English boy who could speak Ger-
man would be looked down upon as unpatriotic.
Why we waste time in teaching even French
according to this method I have never been
able to understand. A perfect unacquaintance

117

r e e Men on W^h eels

with a language is respectable. But putting aside
comic journalists and lady novelists, for whom it
is a business necessity, this smattering of French
which we are so proud to possess only serves to
render us ridiculous.

In the German school the method is somewhat
different. One hour every day is devoted to
the same language. The idea is not to give the
lad time between each lesson to forget what he
learned at the last ; the idea is for him to get on.
There is no comic foreigner provided for his
amusement. .The desired language is taught by
a German schoolmaster who knows it inside and
out as thoroughly as he knows his own. May-
be this system does not provide the German
youth with that perfection of foreign accent for
which the British tourist is in every land remark-
able, but it has other advantages. The boy does
not call his master " Froggy," or " Sausage," nor
prepare for the French or English hour any
exhibition of homely wit whatever. He just sits
there, and for his own sake tries to learn that
foreign tongue with as little trouble to everybody
concerned as possible. When he has left school
he can talk, not about penknives and gardener's
aunts merely, but about European politics, his-
tory, Shakespeare, or the musical glasses, accord-
ing to the turn the conversation may take.

Viewing the German people from an Anglo-
Saxon standpoint, it may be that in this book

118

»

An Aquatic Adventure

I shall find occasion to criticise them ; but on
the other hand, there is much that we might
learn from them ; and in the matter of common
sense as applied to education they can give us
ninety-nine in a hundred and beat us with one
hand.

The beautiful wood of the Eilenriede bounds
Hanover on the south and west, and here occurred
a sad drama in which Harris took a prominent
part. We were riding our machines through
this wood on the Monday afternoon in company
with many other cyclists, for it is a favourite re-
sort with Hanoverians on a sunny afternoon, and
its shady pathways are then filled with happy,
thoughtless folk. Among them rode a young
and beautiful girl on a machine that was new.
She was evidently a novice on the bicycle. One
felt instinctively that there would come a moment
when she would require help, and Harris with
his accustomed chivalry suggested we should
keep near her. Harris, as he occasionally ex-
plains to George and to myself, has daughters
of his own — or to speak more correctly, a
daughter — who as the years progress will no
doubt cease practising Catherine wheels in the
front garden, and will grow up into a beautiful
and respectable young lady. This naturally
gives Harris an interest in all beautiful girls up
to the age of thirty-five or thereabouts ; they
remind him, so he says, of home.

119

Tb r e e Men on W^h eels

We had ridden for about two miles, when we
noticed, a little ahead of us in a space where five
ways met, a man with a hose, watering the roads.
The pipe, supported at each joint by a pair of tiny
wheels, writhed after him as he moved, suggesting
a gigantic worm, from whose open neck, as the
man, gripping it firmly in both hands, pointed
it now this way and now that, now elevating it,
now depressing it, poured a strong stream of
water at the rate of about a gallon a second.

" What a much better method than ours," ob-
served Harris enthusiastically. Harris is inclined
to be chronically severe on all British institutions.
" How much simpler, quicker, and more econom-
ical ! You see, one man by this method can in
five minutes water a stretch of road that would
take us with our clumsy lumbering cart half an
hour to cover."

George, who was riding behind me on the tan-
dem, said : " Yes, and it is also a method by
which with a little carelessness a man could cover
a good many people in a good deal less time than
they could get out of the way." George, the
opposite to Harris, is British to the core. I
remember George quite patriotically indignant
with Harris once for suggesting the introduction
of the guillotine into England.

" It is so much neater," said Harris.

" I don't care if it is," said George ; " I 'm an
Englishman ; hanging is good enough for me."

120

An Aquatic Adventure

" Our water-cart may have its disadvantages/1
continued George, " but it can only make you
uncomfortable about the legs, and you can avoid

" c What a much better method than ours ' '

it. This is the sort of machine with which a
man could follow you around the corner and
upstairs/'

121

Th r e e Men on W^h eels

" It fascinates me to watch them," said Harris.
" They are so skilful I have seen a man from
the corner of a crowded square in Strassburg
cover every inch of ground and not so much as
wet an apron-string. It is marvellous how they
judge their distance. They will send the water
up to your toes, and then bring it over your
head so that it falls around your heels. They
can "

" Ease up a minute/' said George.

I said: "Why?"

He said : "I am going to get off and watch
the rest of this show from behind a tree. There
may be great performers in this line, as Harris
says ; this particular artist appears to me to lack
something. He has just soused a dog, and now
he's busy watering a sign-post. I am going to
wait till he has finished."

" Nonsense," said Harris ; " he won't wet
you."

" That is precisely what I am going to make
sure of," answered George ; saying which he
jumped off and, taking up a position behind a
remarkably fine elm, pulled out and commenced
filling his pipe.

I did not care to take the tandem on by my-
self, so I stepped off and joined him, leaving the
machine against a tree. Harris shouted some-
thing or other about our being a disgrace to the
land that gave us birth, and rode on.

An Aquatic Adventure

The next moment I heard a woman's cry 6f
distress. Glancing around the stem of the tree,
I perceived that it proceeded from the young
and elegant lady before mentioned, whom in our
interest concerning the road-waterer we had for-
gotten. She was riding her machine steadily and
straightly through a drenching shower of water
from the hose. She appeared to be too paralyzed
either to get off or turn her wheel aside. Every
instant she was becoming wetter, while the man
with the hose, who was either drunk or blind,
continued to pour water upon her with utter
indifference. A dozen voices yelled imprecations
upon him, but he took no heed whatever.

Harris, his fatherly nature stirred to its depths,
did at this point what under the circumstances
was quite the right and proper thing to do. Had
he acted throughout with the same coolness and
judgment he then displayed he would have
emerged from that incident the hero of the hour,
instead of, as happened, riding away followed by
insult and imprecation. Without a moment's
hesitation he spurted at the man, sprang to the
ground, and seizing the hose by the nozzle, at-
tempted to wrest it from him.

What he ought to have done — what any man
retaining his common sense would have done the
moment he got his hands upon the thing — was
to turn off the tap. Then he might have played
football with the man, or battledore and shuttle-

123

T'b r e e M en on W^h eel

cock as he pleased ; and trie twenty or thirty
people who had rushed forward to assist would
have only applauded. His idea, however, so he
explained to us afterwards, was to take the hose
away from the man and for punishment turn it
upon the fool himself. The waterman's idea
appeared to be the same — namely, to retain the
hose as a weapon with which to soak Harris.
Of course, the result was that between them they
soused every dead and living thing within fifty
yards, except themselves. One furious man, too
drenched to care what more happened to him,
leaped into the arena and also took a hand. The
three among them proceeded to sweep the com-
pass with that hose. They pointed it to Heaven,
and the water descended upon the people in the
form of an equinoctial storm. They pointed it
downward, and sent the water in rushing streams
that took people off their feet, or caught them
about the waist-line and doubled them up.

Not one of the three would loosen his grip
upon the hose ; not one of them thought to turn
the water off. You might have thought they
were struggling with some primeval force of
nature. In forty-five seconds, so George said,
who was timing it, they had swept that circus
bare of every living thing except one dog, who,
dripping like a water nymph, rolled over by the
force of water, now on this side, now on that, still
gallantly staggered again and again to its feet to

124

" Proceeded to sweep the compass with that hose "

n

Aquatic Adventure

bark defiance at what it evidently regarded as the
powers of hell let loose.

Men and women left their machines upon the
ground and flew into the woods. From behind
every tree of importance, peeped wet, angry
heads.

At last there arrived upon the scene one man
of sense. Braving all things, he crept to the hy-
drant where still stood the iron key, and screwed
it down. And then from forty trees began to
creep more or less soaked human beings, each
one with something to say.

At first I fell to wondering whether a stretcher
or a clothesbasket would be the more useful for
the conveyance of Harris* remains back to the
hotel. I consider that George's promptness on
that occasion saved Harris* life. Being dry, and
therefore able to run quicker, he was there before
the crowd. Harris was for explaining things, but
George cut him short.

" You get on that/' said George, handing him
his bicycle, " and go. They don't know we
belong to you, and you may trust to us implicitly
not to reveal the secret. We '11 hang about be-
hind and get in their way. Ride zig-zag in case
they shoot."

I wish these papers to be strict records of fact,
unmarred by exaggeration, and therefore I have
shown my description of this incident to Harris,
lest anything beyond bald narrative may have

Th r e e M en on H7h eels

crept into it. Harris maintains it is exaggerated;
he admits that one or two people may have been
" sprinkled/' I have offered to turn a street
hose on him at a distance of five and twenty feet
and take his opinion afterward as to whether
" sprinkled " is the adequate term ; but he has
declined the test. Again, he insists there could
not have been more than half a dozen people, at
the outside, involved in the catastrophe — that
forty is a ridiculous misstatement. I have of-
fered to return with him to Hanover and make
strict inquiry into the matter, and this offer he
has likewise declined. Under these circum-
stances I maintain that mine is a true and re-
strained narrative of an event that is by a certain
number of Hanoverians remembered with bitter-
ness unto this very day.

We left Hanover that same evening and ar-
rived at Berlin in time for supper and an evening
stroll. Berlin is a disappointing town : its centre
overcrowded, its outlying parts lifeless ; its one
famous street, Unter den Linden, an attempt to
combine Oxford Street with the Champs Elysees ;
singularly unimposing, and much too wide for its
size ; its theatres dainty and charming, where
acting is considered of more importance than
scenery or dress, where long runs are unknown,
successful pieces being played again and again
but never consecutively, so that for a week run-
ning you may go to the same Berlin theatre and

126

An Aquatic Adventure

see a fresh play every night; its Opera House
unworthy of it ; its two music halls, with an un-
necessary suggestion of vulgarity and common-
ness about them, ill-arranged and much too large
for comfort. In the Berlin cafes and restaurants
the busy time is from midnight on till three.
Yet most of the people who frequent them are
up again at seven. Either the Berliner has
solved the great problem of modern life, how to
do without sleep, or, with Carlyle, he must be
looking forward to eternity.

Personally, I know of no other town where
such late hours are the vogue, except St. Peters-
burg. But your St. Petersburger does not get
up early in the morning. At St. Petersburg the
music halls, which it is the fashionable thing to
attend after the theatre — a drive to them taking
half an hour in a swift sleigh — do not practically
begin till twelve. Through the Neva at four
o'clock in the morning you have to literally push
your way ; and the favourite trains for travellers
are those starting about five o'clock in the morn-
ing. These trains save the Russian the trouble
of getting up early. He wishes his friends
" Good night," and drives down to the station
comfortably after supper, without putting the
house to any inconvenience.

Potsdam, the Versailles to Berlin, is a beautiful
little town, situated among lakes and woods.
Here in the shady ways of its quiet, far-stretch-

127

Th r e e Men on IPh eels

ing park of Sans Souci it is easy to imagine
lean, snuffy Frederick " bummelling" with shrill
Voltaire.

Acting on my advice, George and Harris con-
sented not to stay long in Berlin, but to push on
to Dresden. Most that Berlin has to show can
be seen better elsewhere, and we decided to be
content with a drive through the town. The
hotel porter introduced us to a droschke driver,
under whose guidance, so he assured us, we
should see everything worth seeing in the short-
est possible time. The man himself, who called
for us at nine o'clock in the morning, was all that
could be desired. He was bright, intelligent and
well informed ; his German was easy to under-
stand, and he knew a little English with which to
eke it out on occasion. With the man himself
there was no fault to be found, but his horse was
the most unsympathetic brute I have ever sat
behind.

He took a dislike to us the moment he saw
us. I was the first to come out of the hotel.
He turned his head, and looked me up and down
with a cold, glassy eye ; and then he looked
across at another horse, a friend of his, that was
standing facing him. I knew what he said. He
had an expressive head, and he made no attempt
to disguise his thoughts. He said :

" Funny things one does come across in the
summer time, don't one ? "

128

An Aquatic Adventure

George followed me out the next moment and
stood behind me. The horse again turned his
head and looked. I have never known a horse

" The horse said ' Gott in Himmel!"

that could twist himself as this horse did. I have
seen a camelopard do tricks with his neck that
compelled one's attention, but this animal was
more like the thing one dreams of after a dusty
9 129

Three Men on Wheels

day at Ascot, followed by a dinner with six old
chums. If I had seen his eyes looking at me
from between his own hind legs I doubt if I
should have been surprised. He seemed more
amused with George, if anything, than with my-
self. He turned to his friend again.

" Extraordinary, is n't it ? " he remarked. " I
suppose there must be some place where they
grow them," and then he commenced licking flies
off his own left shoulder. I began to wonder
whether he had lost his mother when young, and
had been brought up by a cat.

George and I climbed in and sat waiting for
Harris. He came a moment later. Myself, I
thought he looked rather neat. He wore a white
flannel knickerbocker suit, which he had had
made especially for bicycling in hot weather ; his
hat may have been a trifle out of the common,
but it did keep the sun off.

The horse gave one look at him, said " Gott
in Himmel ! " as plainly as ever a horse spoke,
and started off down Friedrich Strasse at a brisk
walk, leaving Harris and the driver standing on
the pavement. His owner called to him to stop,
but he took no notice. They ran after us, and
overtook us at the corner of the Dorotheen
Strasse. I could not catch what the man said to
the horse ; he spoke quickly and excitedly, but I
gathered a few phrases, such as :

"Got to earn my living somehow, have n't I ?"
130

An Aquatic Adventure

" Who asked for your opinion ? " " Ay, little
you care so long as you can guzzle."

The horse cut the conversation short by turn-
ing up the Dorotheen Strasse on his own account.
I think what he said was :

" Come on, then ; don't talk so much. Let's
get the job over, and where possible let 's keep to
the back streets."

Opposite the Brandenburger Thor our driver
hitched the reins to the whip, climbed down and
came around to explain things to us. He pointed
out to us the Thiergarten, and then descanted to
us of the Reichstag House. He informed us of
its exact height, length and breadth, after the
manner of guides. Then he turned his attention
to the Gate. He said it was constructed of sand-
stone in imitation of the "Properleer" in Athens.

At this point the horse, which had been occu-
pying its leisure licking its own legs, turned
around its head. It did not say anything ; it
just looked.

The man began again, nervously. This time
he said it was an imitation of the " Propeyedliar."

Here the horse proceeded up the Linden, and
nothing would persuade him not to proceed up
the Linden. His owner expostulated with him,
but he continued to trot on. From the way he
hitched his shoulders as he moved I somehow
felt he was saying:

" They 've seen the Gate, have n't they ? Very

r e e Men on If^h eels

well, that 's enough. * As for the rest, you don't
know what you 're talking about, and they
would n't understand you if you did. You talk
German."

It was the same throughout the length of the
Linden. The horse consented to stand still
sufficiently long to enable us to have a good look
at each sight and to hear the name of it. All ex-
planation and description he cut short by the
simple process of moving on.

" What these fellows want," he seemed to say
to himself, "is to go home and tell people they have
seen these things. If I am doing them an injus-
tice, if they are more intelligent than they look,
they can get better information than this old fool
of mine is giving them from the guide-book.
Who wants to know how high a steeple is ? You
don't remember it the next five minutes when you
are told, and if you do it is because you have got
nothing else in your head. He just tires me with
his talk. Why does n't he hurry up, and let us
all get home to lunch ? "

Upon reflection, I am not sure that that
wall-eyed old brute had not sense on its side.
Anyhow, I know there have been occasions, with
a guide, when I would have been glad of its
interference.

But one is apt to " sin one's mercies," as the
Scotch say ; and at the time we cursed that horse
instead of blessing it.

132

VII. — HARRIS GOES SHOPPING,

AT A POINT between Berlin and
Dresden, George, who had for the
last quarter of an hour or so been
looking very attentively out of the
window, said :

"Why, in Germany it is the custom to put
the letter-box up a tree : why do they not fix it
to the front door, as we do? I should hate
having to climb up a tree to get my letters.
Besides, it is not fair to the postman. In addi-
tion to being most exhausting, the delivery of
letters must to a heavy man, on windy nights, be
positively dangerous work. If they must fix it
to a tree, why not fix it lower down — why
always among the topmost branches ?

" But maybe I am misjudging the country,"
he continued, a new idea occurring to him.
" Possibly the Germans, who in many matters
are ahead of us, have perfected a Pigeon Post.
Even so, I cannot help thinking they would
have been wiser to train the birds, while they
were about it, to deliver the letters nearer the
ground. Getting your letters out of those boxes
must be tricky work even to the average middle-
aged German."

'Th r e e Men on Jf^b eels

I followed his gaze out of window. I said :

" Those are not letter-boxes, they are birds'

nests. You must understand this nation. The

German loves birds, but he likes them tidy. A

bird, left to himself, builds his nest just any-

" ' But maybe I am misjudging the country ' "

where. It is not a pretty object, according to
the German notion of prettiness. There is not
a bit of paint on it anywhere, not a plaster image
all around, not even a flag. The nest finished,
the bird proceeds to live outside it. He drops
things on to the grass ; twigs, ends of worms,
all sorts of things. He is indelicate. He makes

Harris Goes Shopping

love, quarrels with his wife and feeds the children
.quite in public. The German householder is
shocked. He says to the bird :

" For many things I like you. I like to look
at you. I like to hear you sing. But I don't
like your ways. Take this little box, and put
your rubbish inside where I can't see it. Come
out when you want to sing ; but let your domes-
tic arrangements be confined to the interior."

In Germany one breathes in love of order with
the air — in Germany the babies beat time with
their rattles — and the German bird has come to
prefer the box ; and to regard with contempt the
few uncivilized outcasts who continue to build
their nests in trees and hedges. In course of
time, every German bird, one is confident, will
have his proper place in a full chorus. This
promiscuous and desultory warbling of his must,
one feels, be irritating to the precise German
mind ; there is no method in it. The music-
loving German will organise him. Some stout
bird with a specially well-developed crop will be
trained to conduct him ; and, instead of wasting
himself in a wood at four o'clock in the morning,
he will, at the advertised time, sing in a beer-
garden, accompanied by a piano. Things are
drifting that way.

Your German likes Nature, but his idea of
Nature is a glorified Welsh harp. He takes
great interest in his garden. He plants seven

'35

"Three Men on W^heels

rose trees on the north side, and seven on the
south, and if they do not grow up all the same
size and shape it worries him so that he cannot
sleep of nights. Every flower he ties to a stick.
This interferes with his view of the flower, but
he has the satisfaction of knowing that it is
there, and that it is behaving itself. The lake is
lined with zinc, and once a week he takes it up,
carries it into the kitchen and scours it. In the
geometrical centre of the grass plot, which is
sometimes as large as a tablecloth, and is gener-
ally railed around, he places a china dog. The
Germans are very fond of dogs, but as a rule
they prefer them of china. The china dog
never digs holes in the lawn to bury bones, and
never scatters a flower-bed to the winds with his
hind legs. From the German point of view, he
is the ideal dog. He stays where you put him,
and he is never where you do no't want him.
You can have him perfect in all points according
to the latest requirements of the Kennel Club, or
you can indulge your own fancy and have some-
thing unique. You are not, as with other dogs,
limited to breed. In china, you can have a blue
dog, or a pink dog. For a little extra, you can
have a double-headed dog.

On a certain fixed date in the autumn the
German stakes his flowers and bushes to the
earth, and covers them with Chinese matting ;
and on a certain fixed date in the spring he

136

Harris Goes Shopping

uncovers them, and stands them up again ; if it
happen to be an exceptionally fine autumn or an

" The Germans are very fond of dogs but as a rule they
prefer them of china"

exceptionally late spring, so much the worse for
the unfortunate vegetable ; no true German would

'37

Tb r e e Men on Jf^h eels

allow his arrangements to be interfered with by
so unruly a thing as the solar system. Unable
to regulate the weather, he ignores it.

Among trees your German's favourite is the
poplar. Disorderly nations may sing the charms
of the rugged oak, the spreading chestnut or the
waving elm. To the German, all such, with their
wilful, untidy ways, are eyesores. The poplar
grows where it is planted and as it is planted.
It has no improper rugged ideas of its own.
It does not want to wave or to spread itself. It
just grows straight and upright as a German tree
should grow ; and so, the German is gradually
rooting out all other trees and replacing them
with poplars.

Your German likes the country, but he prefers
it as the lady thought she would the noble sav-
age, more dressed. He likes his walk through
the wood — to a restaurant. But the pathway
must not be too steep ; it must have a brick
gutter running down one side of it to drain it,
and every twenty yards or so it must have its
seat on which he can rest and mop his brow ;
for your German would no more think of sitting
on the grass than would an English Bishop dream
of rolling down One Tree Hill. He likes his
view from the summit of the hill, but he likes to
find there a stone tablet telling him what to look
at, and a table and bench at which he can sit to
partake of the frugal beer and " belegte Semmel "

Harris Goes Shopping

he has been careful to bring with him. If, in ad-
dition, he can find a police notice posted on a tree
forbidding him to do something or other, that
gives him an extra sense of comfort and security.
Your German is not averse even to wild
scenery, provided it be not too wild. But if he
consider it too savage, he sets to work to tame
it. I remember discovering in the neighbourhood
of Dresden a picturesque and narrow valley lead-
ing down toward the Elbe. The winding road-
way ran beside a mountain torrent, which for a
mile or so fretted and foamed over rocks and
boulders between wood-covered banks. I fol-
lowed it enchanted until, turning a corner, I
suddenly came across a gang of eighty or a
hundred workmen. They were busy tidying up
that valley and making that stream respectable.
All the stones that were impeding the course of
the water they were carefully picking out and
carting away. The bank on either side they
were bricking up and cementing. The over-
hanging trees and bushes, the tangled vines and
creepers they were rooting up and trimming
•down. A little farther I came upon the finished
work — the mountain valley: as it ought to be,
according to German ideas. The water, now a
broad, sluggish stream, flowed over a level,
gravelly bed, between two walls crowned with
stone coping. At every hundred yards it gently
descended over three shallow wooden platforms

Tb r e e Men on W^h eels

For a space on either side the ground had been
cleared and, at regular intervals, young poplars
planted. Each sapling was protected by a shield
of wicker work, and bossed by an iron rod. In
the course of a couple of years it is the hope of
the local council to have "finished" that valley
throughout its entire length, and made it fit for
a tidy-minded lover of German Nature to walk
in. There will be a seat every fifty yards, a
police notice every hundred, and a restaurant
every half-mile.

They are doing the same from the Memel to
the Rhine. They are just tidying up the coun-
try. I remember well the Wehrthal. It was
once the most romantic ravine to be found in the
Black Forest ! The last time I walked down it
some hundreds of Italian workmen were en-
camped there, hard at work, training the wild
little Wehr the way it should go, bricking the
banks for it here, blasting the rocks for it there,
making cement steps for it down which it can
travel soberly and without fuss.

For in Germany there is no nonsense talked
about untrammelled Nature. In Germany Nature
has got to behave herself, and not set a bad
example to the children. A German poet,
noticing waters coming down as Southey de-
scribes, somewhat inexactly, the waters coming
down at Lodore, would be too shocked to stop
and write alliterative verse about them. He

140

Harris Goes Shopping

would hurry away and at once report them to
the police. Then their foaming and their shriek-
ing would be of short duration.

" Now then, now then, what 's all this about ? "
the voice of German authority would say severely
to the waters ; " we can't have this sort of thing,
you know. Come down quietly, can't you ?
Where do you think you are ? "

And the local German council would provide
those waters with zinc pipes and wooden troughs
and a cork-screw staircase, and show them how
to come down sensibly, in the German manner.

It is a tidy land, is Germany.

We reached Dresden on the Wednesday even-
ing, and stayed there over the Sunday.

Taking one consideration with another, Dres-
den is, perhaps, the most attractive town in Ger-
many ; but it is a place to be lived in for a while,
rather than visited. Its museums and galleries,
its palaces and gardens, its beautiful and histori-
cally rich environment, provide pleasure for a
winter but bewilder for a week. It has not the
gaiety of Paris or Vienna, which quickly palls ;
its charms are more solidly German, and more
lasting. It is the Mecca of the musician. For
five shillings in Dresden you can purchase a
stall at the opera, together, unfortunately, with
a strong disinclination ever again to take the
trouble of sitting out a performance in any Eng-
lish, French or American opera house.

141

T*h r e e M en on Jf^b eels

The chief scandal of Dresden still centres
around August the Strong, " the Man of Sin,"
as Carlyle always called him. His life-sized
portrait hangs in the fine Zwinger, which he built
as an arena for his wild-beast fights when the
people grew tired of them in the market-place ;
a beetle-browed, frankly animal man, but with a
culture and taste that so often wait upon ani-
malism. Modern Dresden undoubtedly owes
much to him.

But what the stranger in Dresden stares at
most are, perhaps, its electric trams. These huge
vehicles flash through the streets at from ten to
twenty miles an hour, taking curves and corners
after the manner of an Irish car-driven Every-
body travels by them excepting only officers in
uniform, who must not. Ladies in evening dress,
going to ball or opera, porters with their baskets,
sit side by side. They are all-important in the
streets, and everything and everybody makes
haste to get out of their way. If you do not get
out of their way, and you still happen to be alive
when picked up, then on your recovery you are
fined for having been in their way. This teaches
you to be wary of them.

One afternoon Harris took a " bummel " by
himself. In the evening as we sat listening to
the band at the Belvedere, Harris said, apropos
of nothing in particular :

" These Germans have no sense of humour."
142

Harris Goes Shopping

" What makes you think that ? " I asked.

" Why, this afternoon," he answered, " I
jumped on one of those electric tram-cars. I
wanted to see the town, so I stood outside on
the little platform — what do you call it ? "

" The Stehplatz" I suggested.

" That 's it," said Harris. " Well, you know
the way they shake you about, and how you have
to look out for the corners, and mind yourself
when they stop and when they start ? "

I nodded.

" There were about half a dozen of us stand-
ing there," he continued, " and of course I am
not experienced. The thing started suddenly,
and that jerked me backward. I fell against a
stout gentleman, just behind me. He could not
have been standing very firmly himself, and he in
his turn fell back against a boy who was carrying
a trumpet in a green baize case. They never
smiled, neither the man nor the boy with the
trumpet; they just stood there and looked sulky.
I was going to say I was sorry, but before I could
get the words out the tram suddenly eased up, for
some reason or other, and that, of course, shot me
forward again, and I butted into a whitehaired old
chap, who looked to me like a professor. Well,
he never smiled — never moved a muscle."

" Maybe he was thinking of something else,"
I suggested.

"That could not have been the case with them
•43

Three Men on ff^beels

all," replied Harris ; " and in the course of that
journey I must have fallen against every one of
them at least three times."

"You see," exclaimed Harris, "they knew
when the corners were coming, and in which
direction to brace themselves. I, as a stranger,
was naturally at a disadvantage. The way I
rolled and staggered about that platform, clutch-
ing wildly now at this man and now at that, must
have been really comic. I don't say it was high-
class humour, but it would have amused most
people. Those Germans seemed to see no
fun in it whatever — just seemed anxious, that
was all. There was one man, a little man, who
stood with his back against the brake; I fell
against him five times : I counted them. You
would have expected the fifth time would have
dragged a laugh out of him, but it did n't ; he
merely looked tired. They are a dull lot."

George also had an adventure in Dresden.
There was a shop near the Altmarkt in the win-
dow of which were exhibited some cushions for
sale. The proper business of the shop was the
handling of glass and china ; the cushions ap-
peared to be in the nature of an experiment.
They were very beautiful cushions, hand-em-
broidered on satin. We often passed the shop,
and every time George paused and examined
those cushions. He said he thought his aunt
would like one.

144

Harris Goes Shopping

George has been very attentive to this aunt of
his during this journey. He has written her
quite a long letter every day, and from every
town we stop at he sends her off a present. To
my mind, he is overdoing the business, and more
than once I have expostulated with him. His
aunt will get meeting other aunts, and talking
to them ; the whole class will become disorganised
and unruly. As a nephew, I object to the im-
possible standard that George is setting up. But
he will not listen.

Therefore it was that on the Saturday he left
us after lunch, saying he would go around to that
shop and get one of those cushions for his aunt.
He said he would not be long, and suggested
our waiting for him.

We waited for what seemed to me rather a
long time. When he rejoined us he was empty
handed and looked worried. We asked him
where was his cushion. He said he had n't
got a cushion ; said he had changed his mind ;
said he did n't think his aunt would care for a
cushion. Evidently something was amiss. We
tried to get at the bottom of it, but he was not
communicative. Indeed, his answers after our
twentieth question or thereabouts became quite
short.

In the evening, however, when he and I
happened to be alone, he broached the subject
himself. He said :

10 I45

Three Men on Wheels

" They are somewhat peculiar in some things,
these Germans."

I said : " What has happened ? "

" Well," he answered, " there was that cushion
I wanted."

" For your aunt ? " I remarked.

"Why not?" he retorted. He was huffy in
a moment ; I never knew a man so touchy about
an aunt. " Why should n't I send a cushion to
my aunt ? "

" Don't get excited," I replied. " I am not
objecting ; I respect you for it."

He recovered his temper and went on :

" There were four in the window, if you re-
member, all very much alike, and each one
labelled in plain figures twenty marks. I don't
pretend to speak German fluently, but I can
generally make myself understood with a little
effort, and gather the sense of what is said to
me ; provided they don't gabble. I went into
the shop. A young girl came up to me ; she
was a pretty, quiet little soul, one might almost
say demure ; not at all the sort of girl from
whom you would have expected such a thing.
I was never more surprised in all my life."

"Surprised about what? " I said.

George always assumes you know the end of
the story while he is telling you the beginning ;
it is an annoying method.

"At what happened," replied George; "at
146

Harris Goes Shopping

what I am telling you. She smiled and asked
me what I wanted. I understood that all right ;
there could have been no mistake about that. I
put down a twenty-mark piece on the counter
and said :

" c Please give me a cushion ! '

" She stared at me as if I had asked for a
feather bed. I thought maybe she had not
heard, so I repeated it louder. If I had chucked
her under the chin she could not have looked
more surprised or indignant.

" She said she thought I must be making a
mistake.

" I did not want to begin a long conversation
and find myself stranded ; I said there was no
mistake. I pointed to my twenty-mark piece,
and repeated for the third time that I wanted a
cushion, ca twenty-mark cushion/

" Another girl came up, an elder girl, and
the first girl repeated to her what I had just
said ; she seemed quite excited about it. The
second girl did not believe her — did not think
I looked the man who would want a cushion.
To make sure, she put the question to me
herself:

" ( Did you say you wanted a cushion ? ' she
asked.

" c I have said it three times,' I answered ; c I
will say it again : I want a cushion/

" She said: 'Then you can't have one/

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

" I was getting angry by this time. If I
had n't really wanted the thing I should have
walked out of the shop ; but there the cushions
were in the window, evidently for sale. I did n't
see why I could n't have one.

ct I said: CI will have one!' It is a simple
sentence. I said it with determination.

" A third girl came up at this point, the three
representing, I fancy, the whole force of the shop.
She was a bright-eyed, saucy-looking little wench,
this last one. On any other occasion I might
have been pleased to see her ; now, her coming
only irritated me. I did n't see the need of three
girls for this business.

" The first two girls started explaining the
thing to the third girl, and before they were
half way through the third girl began to giggle
— she was the sort of girl who would giggle at
anything. That done, they fell to chattering
like Jenny Wrens, all three together ; and be-
tween every half-dozen words they looked across
at me ; and the more they looked at me the
more the third girl giggled ; and before they had
finished they were all three giggling, the little
idiots ; you might have thought I was a clown,
giving a private performance.

" When she was steady enough to move, the
third girl came up to me ; she was still giggling.
She said :

"c If you get it, will you go? '
148

" Stood up on tip-toe and kissed me "

Harris Goes Shopping

" I did not quite understand her at first, and
she repeated it :

" c This cushion, when you Ve got it, will you
go — away — at once ? '

" I was only too anxious to go. I told her so.
But I added I was not going without it. I had
made up my mind to have that cushion now if
I stopped in the shop all night for it.

" She rejoined the other two girls. I thought
they were going to get me the cushion and have
done with the business. Instead of that, the
strangest thing possible happened. The two
other girls got behind the first girl, all three still
giggling, Heaven knows what about, and pushed
her toward me. They pushed her close up to
me, and then, before I knew what was happen-
ing, she put her hands on my shoulders, stood
up on tip-toe, and kissed me. After which,
burying her face in her apron, she ran off, fol-
lowed by the second girl. The third girl opened
the door for me, and so evidently expected me
to go, that in my confusion, I went, leaving my
twenty marks behind me. I don't say I minded
the kiss, though I did not particularly want it,
while I did want the cushion. I don't like to
go back to the shop. I cannot understand the
thing at all."

I said : ." What did you ask for ? "

He said: "A cushion."

I said : " That is what you wanted, I know.
149

Three Men on Wheels

What I mean is, what was the actual German
word you said ? "

He replied : " A kuss."

I said : " You have nothing to complain of.
It is somewhat confusing. A ( kuss ' sounds as
if it ought to be a cushion, but it is not ; it is a
kiss ; while a kissen is a cushion. You muddled
up the two words — people have done it before.
I don't know much about this sort of thing my-
self, but you asked for a twenty-mark kiss, and
from your description of the girl some people
might consider the price reasonable. Anyhow, I
should not tell Harris. If I remember rightly,
he also has an aunt."

George agreed with me it would be better not.

VIII. — THE REGENERATION
OF GEORGE

WE WERE on our way to Prague
and were waiting in the great
hall of the Dresden station until
such time as the Powers-That-Be
should permit us on to the plat-
form. George, who had wandered to the book-
stall, returned to us with a wild look in his eyes.
He said :

" I 've seen it."
I said : " Seen what ? "

He was too excited to answer intelligently. He
said :

"It's here. It's coming this way, both of
them. If you wait you '11 see it for yourselves.
I 'm not joking; it 's the real thing."

As is usual about this period, some paragraphs
more or less serious had been appearing in the
papers concerning the sea serpent, and I thought
for the moment he must be referring to this. A
moment's reflection, however, told me that here
in the middle of Europe, three hundred miles
from the coast, such a thing was impossible. Be-
fore I could question him further he seized me by
the arm.

Three Men on Wheels

" Look ! " he said ; " now am I exaggerating ? "

I turned my head and saw what, I suppose, few
living Englishmen have ever seen before : the
travelling Britisher, according to the Continental
idea, accompanied by his daughter. They were
coming toward us in the flesh and blood, unless
we were dreaming, alive and concrete ; the Eng-
lish "Milor" and the English " Mees," as for
generations they have been portrayed in the Con-
tinental comic press and upon the Continental
stage. They were perfect in every detail. The
man was tall and thin, with sandy hair, a huge
nose, and long Dundreary whiskers. Over a
pepper-and-salt suit he wore a light overcoat
reaching almost to his heels.

His white helmet was ornamented with a green
veil ; a pair of opera glasses hung at his side, and
in his lavender-gloved hand he carried an alpen-
stock, a little taller than himself.

His daughter was tall and angular. Her dress
I cannot describe ; my grandfather, poor gentle-
man, might have been able to do so ; it would
have been more familiar to him. I can only say
that it appeared to me unnecessarily short, exhib-
iting a pair of ankles — if I may be permitted to
refer to such points — that from an artistic point
of view called rather for concealment. Her hat
made me think of Mrs. Hemans, but why I can-
not explain. She wore side-spring boots — " pru-
nella," I believe, used to be the trade name —

Regeneration of George

mittens, and a pince nez. She also carried an
alpenstock (there is not a mountain within a
hundred miles of Dresden), and a black bag

" / turned my bead and saw the travelling Britisher "

strapped to her waist. Her teeth stuck out like
a rabbit's, and her figure was that of a bolster on
stilts.

Harris rushed for his camera, and of course
could not find it ; he never can when he wants

J53

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

it. Whenever we see Harris scuttling up and
down, like a lost dog, shouting, " Where 's my
camera ? What the dickens have I done with my
camera ? Don't either of you remember where I
put my camera ? " — then we know that for the
first time that day he has come across something
worth photographing. Later on, he remembered
it was in his bag ; that is where it would be on an
occasion like this.

They were not content with appearance ; they
acted the thing to the letter. They walked
gaping round them at every step. The gentle-
man had an open Baedeker in his hand, and the
lady carried a phrase-book. They talked French
that nobody could understand, and German that
they could not translate themselves. The man
poked at officials with his alpenstock to attract
their attention, and the lady, her eye catching
sight of an advertisement of somebody's cocoa,
said, " Shocking ! " and turned the other way.

Really, there was some excuse for her. One
notices even in England, the home of the propri-
eties, that the lady who drinks cocoa appears, ac-
cording to the poster, to require very little else in
this world ; a yard or so of art muslin at the
most. On the Continent she dispenses, so far as
one can judge, with every other necessity of life.
Not only is cocoa food and drink to her, but it
should be clothes also, according to the idea of the
cocoa manufacturer. But this by the way.

'54

Regeneration of George

Of course they immediately became the centre
of attraction. By being able to render them some
slight assistance I gained the advantage of five
minutes' conversation with them ; they were very
affable. The gentleman told me his name was
Jones, and that he came from Manchester, but he
did not seem to know what part of Manchester,
or where Manchester was. I asked him where
he was going, but he evidently did not know.
He said it depended. I asked him if he did not
find an alpenstock a clumsy thing to walk about
with through a crowded town ; he admitted that
occasionally it did get in the way. I asked him
if he did not find a veil interfere with his view
of things ; he explained that you only wore it
when the flies became troublesome. I inquired
of the lady if she did not find the wind blow
cold ; she said she had noticed it, especially at the
corners. I did not ask these questions one after
another as I have here put them down ; I mixed
them up with general conversation, and we parted
on good terms.

I have pondered upon the apparition, and have
come to a definite opinion. A man I met later
at Frankfort, and to whom I described the pair,
said he had seen them himself in Paris three weeks
after the termination of the Fashoda incident ; and
a traveller for some English steel works whom we
met in Strassburg remembered having seen them
in Berlin during the excitement caused by the

'55

r e e M en on W^h eels

Transvaal question. My conclusion is that they
were actors out of work, hired to do this thing in
the interests of international peace. The French
Foreign Office, wishful to allay the anger of the
Parisian mob clamouring for war with England,
secured this admirable couple and sent them
around the town. You cannot be amused at a
thing and at the same time want to kill it. The
French nation saw the English citizen and citizen-
ess — no caricature, but the living reality — and
their indignation exploded in laughter. The suc-
cess of the stratagem prompted them later to offer
their services to the German Government, with
the beneficial results that we all know.

Our own Government might learn the lesson.
It might be as well to keep near Downing Street
a few small, fat Frenchmen, to be sent around the
country when occasion called for it, shrugging
their shoulders and eating frog sandwiches; or a
file of untidy, lank-haired Germans might be re-
tained to walk about, smoking long pipes, saying,
" Soh ! " The public would laugh and exclaim :
" War with such ? It would be too absurd."
Failing the Government, I recommend the scheme
to the Peace Society.

Our visit to Prague we were compelled to
lengthen somewhat. Prague is one of the most
interesting towns in Europe. Its stones are sat-
urated with history and romance ; its every sub-
urb must have been a battle-field. It is the town

156

Regeneration of George

that conceived the Reformation and hatched the
Thirty-Years' War. But half Prague's troubles,
one imagines, might have been saved to it had it
possessed windows less large and temptingly con-
venient. The first of these mighty catastrophes
it set rolling by throwing the Seven Catholic
Councillors from the windows of its Rathhaus on
to the pikes of the Hussites below. Later it gave
the signal for the second by again throwing the
Imperial Councillors from the windows of the
old burg in the Hradschin — Prague's second
" Fensfer-sturz." Since, other fateful questions
have been decided in Prague. One assumes,
from their having been concluded without vio-
lence, that such must have been discussed in cel-
lars. The window as an argument, one feels,
would always have proved too strong a tempta-
tion to any true-born Praguer.

In the Teynkirche stands the worm-eaten pul-
pit from which preached John Huss. One may
hear from the self-same desk to-day the voice of
a Papist priest, while in far-off Constance a rude
block of stone, half ivy hidden, marks the spot
where Huss and Jerome died burning at the
stake ; history is fond of her little ironies. In
this same Teynkirche lies buried Tycho Brahe,
the astronomer, who made the common mistake of
thinking the earth, with its eleven hundred creeds
and one humanity, the centre of the universe ; but
who otherwise observed the stars clearly.

T'h r e e Men on Wh eels

Through Prague's dirty, palace-bordered alleys
must have pressed often in hot haste blind
Ziska and open-minded Wallenstein — they have
dubbed him " The Hero " in Prague, and the
town is honestly proud of having owned him for
a citizen ; in his gloomy palace in the Waldstein-
Platz they show as a sacred spot the cabinet
where he prayed, and seem to have persuaded
themselves he really had a soul. Its steep, wind-
ing ways must have been choked a dozen times,
now by Sigismund's flying legions followed by
fierce killing Tarborites, and now by pale Prot-
estants pursued by the victorious Catholics of
Maximilian. Now Saxons, now Bavarians, and
now French ; now the saints of Gustavus Adol-
phus, and now the steel fighting-machines of
Frederick the Great, have thundered at its gates
and fought upon its bridges.

The Jews have always been an important
feature of Prague. Occasionally they have
assisted the Christians in their favourite occupa-
tion of slaughtering one another, and the great
flag suspended from the vaulting of the Altneu-
schule testifies to the courage with which they
helped Catholic Ferdinand to resist the Protes-
tant Swedes. The Prague Ghetto was one of the
first to be established in Europe, and in the tiny
synagogue, still standing, the Jew of Prague has
worshipped for eight hundred years, his women-
folk devoutly listening without, at the ear holes

158

Regeneration of G e o r g e

provided for them in the massive walls. The
Jewish cemetery adjacent, " Bethchajim, or the
House of Life/' seems as though it were bursting
with its dead. Within its narrow acre it was the
law of centuries that here or nowhere must the
bones of Israel rest. So the worn and broken
tombstones lie piled in close confusion, as though
tossed and tumbled by the stifled host beneath.

The Ghetto walls have long been levelled, but
the living Jews of Prague still cling to their fetid
lanes, though these are being rapidly replaced by
fine new streets that promise to eventually trans-
form this quarter into the handsomest part of the
town.

At Dresden they advised us not to talk Ger-
man in Prague. For years racial animosity be-
tween the German minority and the Czech
majority has raged throughout Bohemia, and to
be mistaken for a German in certain streets of
Prague is inconvenient to a man whose staying
powers in a race are not what once they were.
However, we did talk German in Prague ; it
was a case of talking German or nothing. The
Czech dialect is said to be of great antiquity and
of highly scientific cultivation. Its alphabet con-
tains forty-two letters, suggestive, to the stranger,
of Chinese. It is not a language to be picked up
in a hurry. We decided that on the whole there
would be less risk to our constitution in keeping
to German, and, as a matter of fact, no harm

Th r e e Men on Jf^b eels

came to us. The explanation I can only sur-
mise. The Praguer is an exceedingly acute per-
son ; some subtle falsity of accent, some slight
grammatical inaccuracy, may have crept into our
German, revealing to him the fact that, in spite
of all appearances to the contrary, we were no
true-born Deutscher. I do not assert this ; I
put it forward as a possibility.

To avoid unnecessary danger, however, we did
our sight-seeing with the aid of a guide. No
guide I have ever come across is perfect. This
one had two distinct failings. His English was
decidedly weak. Indeed, it was not English at
all. I do not know what you would call it. It
was not altogether his fault; he had learned
English from a Scotch lady. I understand
Scotch fairly well ; to keep abreast of modern
English literature this is necessary : but to under-
stand broad Scotch, talked with a Slavonic accent,
occasionally relieved by German modifications,
taxes the intejligence. For the first hour it was
difficult to rid one's self of the conviction that the
man was choking. Every moment we expected
him to die on our hands. In the course of the
morning we grew accustomed to him, and rid
ourselves of the instinct to throw him on his
back every time he opened his mouth, and tear
his clothes from him. Later we came to under-
stand a part of what he said, and this led to the
discovery of his second failing.

1 60

Regeneration of George

It would seem he had lately invented a hair
restorer which he had persuaded a local chemist
to take up and advertise. Half his time he had

Our Guide

been pointing out to us not the beauties of
Prague, but the benefits likely to accrue to the
human race from the use of this concoction, and
the conventional agreement with which, under
the impression he was waxing eloquent concern-
ing views and architecture, we had met his
ii 161

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

enthusiasm, he had attributed to sympathetic
interest in this wretched hair-wash of his.

The result was that now there was no keeping
him away from the subject. Ruined palaces and
crumbling churches he dismissed with curt refer-
ence as mere frivolities, encouraging a morbid
taste for the decadent. His duty, as he saw it,
was not to lead us to dwell upon the ravages of
time, but rather to direct our attention to the
means of repairing them. What had we to do
with broken-headed heroes or bald-headed saints ?
Our interest should be surely in the living world ;
in the maidens with their flowing tresses — or the
flowing tresses they might have by judicious use
of " Kophkeo " — in the young men with their
fierce mustaches — as pictured on the label.

Unconsciously, in his own mind he had
divided the world into two sections : The Past
("before use"), a sickly, disagreeable-looking,
uninteresting world. The Future (" after use "),
a fat, jolly, God-bless-everybody sort of world ;
and this unfitted him as a guide to scenes of
Mediaeval history.

He sent us each a bottle of the stuff to our
hotel. It appeared that in the early part of our
converse with him we had, unwittingly, clamoured
for it. Personally, I can neither praise it nor
condemn it. A long series of disappointments
has disheartened me ; added to which a perma-
nent atmosphere of paraffine, however faint, is

162

Regeneration of George

apt to cause remark, especially in the case of a
married man. Now I never try even the sample.

I gave my bottle to George. He asked for it
to send to a man he knew in Leeds. I learned
later that Harris had given him his bottle also, to
send to the same man.

A suggestion of onions has clung to this tour
since we left Prague. George has noticed it him-
self. He has attributed it to the prevalence of
garlic in European cooking.

It was in Prague that Harris and I did a kind
and friendly thing to George. We had noticed
for some time past that George was getting too
fond of Pilsener beer. This German beer is an
insidious drink, especially in hot weather ; but it
does not do to imbibe too freely of it. It does
not get into your head ; but after a time it spoils
your waist. I always say to myself on entering
Germany :

" Now, I shall drink no German beer. The
white wine of the country with a little soda
water ; perhaps occasionally a glass of Ems or
Potash. But beer, never — or at all events,
hardly ever."

It is a good and useful resolution, which I
recommend to all travellers. I only wish I could
keep to it myself. George, although I urged
him, refused to bind himself by any such hard
and fast limit. He said that, in moderation,
German beer was good.

163

Th r e e Men on Jf^b eels

" One glass in the morning/* said George,
" one in the evening, or even two. That can do
no harm to any one."

Maybe he was right ; it was his half-dozen
glasses that troubled Harris and myself.

" We ought to do something to stop it," said
Harris ; " it is becoming serious."

" It 's hereditary, so he has explained to me,"
I answered ; " it seems his family have always
been thirsty."

"There is Apollinaris water," replied Harris,
" which, I believe, with a little lemon squeezed
into it, is practically harmless. What I am
thinking about is his figure. He will lose all his
natural elegance."

We talked the matter over and, Providence
aiding us, we fixed upon a plan. For the orna-
mentation of the town a new statue had just been
cast. I forget of whom it was a statue. I only
remember that in the essentials it was the usual
sort of street statue, representing the usual sort
of gentleman, with the usual /tiff neck, riding the
usual sort of horse — the horse that always walks
on its hind legs, keeping its front paws for beat-
ing time ; but in detail it possessed individuality.
Instead of the usual sword or baton, the man
was holding, stretched out in his hand, his own
plumed hat ; and the horse, instead of the usual
waterfall for a tail, possessed a somewhat attenu-
ated appendage that somehow appeared out of

164

Regeneration of G e o r g e

keeping with his ostentatious behaviour. One felt
that a horse with a tail like that would not have
pranced so much.

It stood in a small square not far from the
farther end of the Karlsbriicke, but it stood there
only temporarily. Before deciding where to fix it,
the town authorities had resolved, very sensibly,
to judge by practical test where it would look
best. Accordingly they had had made three rough
copies of the statue — mere wooden profiles,
things that would not bear looking at closely, but
which, viewed from a little distance, produced all
the effect that was necessary. One of these they
had set up at the approach to the Franz-Josefs-
briicke, a second stood in the open space behind
the theatre, and the third in the centre of the
Wenzelsplatz.

" If George is not in the secret of this thing,"
said Harris — we were walking by ourselves for
an hour, he having remained behind in the hotel
to write a letter to his aunt — " if he has not
observed these statues, then by their aid we will
make a better and a thinner man of him, and that
this very evening."

So during dinner we sounded him judiciously,
and, finding him ignorant of the matter, we took
him out and led him by side streets to the place
where stood the real statue. George was for
looking at it and passing on, as is his way with
statues, but we insisted on his pulling up and

Th r e e Me n o n Jf^b eels

viewing the thing conscientiously. We walked
him around that statue four times and showed it
to him from every possible point of view. I
think, on the whole, we rather bored him with
the thing, but our object was to impress it upon
him. We told him the history of the man that
rode upon the horse, the name of the artist who
had made the statue, how much it weighed, how
much it measured. We worked that statue into
his system. By the time we had done with him
he knew more about that statue, for the time
being, than he knew about anything else. We
soaked him in that statue, and only let him go
at last on the condition that he would come again
with us in the morning, when we could all see it
better ; and for such purpose ,we saw to it that he
made a note in his pocketbook of the place where
the statue stood.

Then we accompanied him to his favourite beer
hall and sat beside him, telling him anecdotes of
men who, accustomed to German beer and drink-
ing too much of it, had gone mad and developed
homicidal mania; of men who had died young
through drinking German beer ; of lovers that
German beer had been the means of parting
forever from beautiful girls.

At ten o'clock we started to walk back to
the hotel. It was a stormy-looking night, with
heavy clouds drifting over a light moon. Harris
said:

166

u We walked him round that statue four times "

Regeneration of G e o r g e

" We won't go back the same way we came ;
we'll walk back by the river. It is lovely in
the moonlight."

Harris told a sad history as we walked, about
a man he once knew who is now in a home for
harmless imbeciles. He said he recalled the
story because it was on just such another night
as this that he was walking with that man the
very last time he ever saw the poor fellow. They
were strolling down the Thames Embankment,
Harris said, and the man frightened him then by
persisting that he saw the statue of the Duke of
Wellington at the corner of Westminster Bridge,
when as everybody knows it stands in Piccadilly.

It was at this exact instant that we came in
sight of the first of these wooden copies. It
occupied the centre of a small railed-in square, a
little above us on the opposite side of the way.
George suddenly stood still and leaned against
the wall of the quay.

" What 's the matter ? " I said ; " feeling
giddy ? "

He said: "I do, a little. Let's rest here a
moment."

He stood there with his eyes glued to the
thing. He said, speaking huskily :

" Talking of statues, what always strikes me
is how very much one statue is like another
statue."

Harris said ; " I cannot agree with you there ;
167

Th r e e Men on W h eels

pictures, if you like. Some pictures are very like
other pictures, but with a statue there is always
something distinctive. Take that statue we saw
early in the evening," continued Harris, " before
we went into that concert hall. It represented a
man sitting on a horse. In Prague you will see
other statues of men on horses, but nothing at
all like that one."

" Yes, they are," said George ; " they are all
alike. It 's always the same horse, and it 's
always the same man. They are all exactly alike.
It's idiotic nonsense to say they are not." He
appeared to be angry with Harris.

" What makes you think so ? " I asked.

"What makes me think so? " retorted George,
now turning upon me. " Why, look at that
thing over there ! "

I said: " What thing ? "

" Why, that thing," said George ; " look at it.
There is the same horse with half a tail, standing
on its hind legs ; the same man without his hat ;
the same "

Harris said : " You are talking now about the
statue we saw in the Ringplatz."

" No, I 'm not," replied George ; " I'm talk-
ing about that statue over there."

" What statue ? " said Harris.

George looked at Harris, but Harris is«a man
who might with care have been a fair amateur
actor. His face merely expressed friendly sorrow,

1 68

Regeneration of G e o r g e

mingled with alarm. Next George turned his
gaze on me. I endeavoured, so far as lay within
me, to copy Harris' expression, adding to it on
my own account a touch of reproof.

" Will you have a cab ? " I said as kindly as I
could to George ; " I '11 run and get one."

" What the devil do I want with a cab ? " he
answered ungraciously. " Can't you fellows under-
stand a joke ? It's like being out with a couple
of confounded old women," saying which he
started off across the bridge, leaving us to follow.

" I am so glad that was only a joke of yours,"
said Harris, on our overtaking him. " I knew a
case of softening of the brain that began :

" Oh, you 're a silly ass ! " said George, cutting
him short; "you know everything." He was
really most unpleasant in his manner.

We took him around by the river side of the
theatre. We told him it was the shortest way,
and, as a matter of fact, it was. In the open
space behind the theatre stood the second of these
wooden apparitions. George looked at it and
again stood still.

"What's the matter?" said Harris kindly.
" You are not ill, are you ? "

" I don't believe this is the shortest way," said
George.

" I assure you it is," persisted Harris.

"Well, I 'm going the other," said George, and
he turned and went, we as before following him.

169

Th r e e Men on IFh eels

" Three/' replied Harris.

" Only three ? " said George. " Are you sure ? "

" Positive," replied Harris. " Why ? "

" Oh, nothing," answered George.

But I don't think he quite believed Harris.

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 Carls-
bad you rise at five ; the fashionable hour for prom-
enade, when the band plays under the Colonnade,
and the Sprudel is filled with a packed throng over
a mile long, is 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. That you cannot get within five miles
of the town for money ; what you can get there
for love is not worth taking away. Pepper, to the
liver brigade that forms four-fifths of Carlsbad's
customers, is poison, and prevention being better
than cure, it is carefully kept out of the neighbour-

172

Regeneration of George

hood. " Pepper parties " are formed in Carlsbad
to journey to some place without the boundary,
and there indulge in pepper orgies.

Nuremberg, if one expects a town of Mediaeval
appearance, disappoints. Quaint corners, pictur-
esque glimpses there are in plenty ; but every-
where they are surrounded and intruded upon by
the modern, and even what is ancient is not nearly
so ancient as one thought it was. After all, a
town, like a woman, is only as old as it looks ; and
Nuremberg is still a comfortable-looking dame,
its age somewhat difficult to conceive under its
fresh paint and stucco, in the blaze of the gas and
the electric light. Still, looking closely, you may
see its wrinkled walls and gray towers.

'73

IX. — IN THE TOILS OF THE
GERMAN LAW

ALL three of us, by some means or
another, managed, between Nurem-
berg and the Black Forest, to get
into trouble. Harris led off at
Stuttgart by insulting an official
Stuttgart is a charming town, clean and bright ; a
smaller Dresden. It has the additional attraction
of'containing little that one need go out of one's
way to see ; a medium-sized picture gallery, a
small museum of antiquities, and half a palace
and you are through with the entire thing anc
can enjoy yourself. Harris did not know it was
an official he was insulting. He took it for a
fireman (it looked like a fireman), and he callec
it a " dummer Esel."

In Germany you are not permitted to call an
official a " silly ass," but undoubtedly this particu-
lar man was one. What had happened was this
Harris in the Stadtgarten, anxious to get out, anc
seeing a gate open before him, had stepped ovei
a wire into the street. Harris maintains he neve
saw it, but undoubtedly there was hanging to the
wire a notice, " Durchgang Verboten ! " The
man, who was standing just outside the gate,
stopped Harris and pointed out to him this

In Toils of German La

w

notice. Harris thanked him and passed on.
The man came after him and explained that
treatment of the matter in such off-hand way

u The man stopped Harris "

could not be allowed ; what was necessary to put
the business right was that Harris should step
back over the wire into the garden. Harris
pointed out to the man that the notice said
"going through forbidden/' and that, therefore,
by reentering the garden that way he would be

'75

Three Men on Wheels

infringing the law a second time. The man
saw this for himself, and suggested that to get
over the difficulty Harris should go back into
the garden by the proper entrance, which was
round the corner, and afterward immediately
come out again by the same gate. Then it was
that Harris called the man a silly ass. That
delayed us a day and cost Harris forty marks.

I followed suit at Carlsruhe by stealing a bi-
cycle. I did not mean to steal the bicycle ; I
was merely trying to be useful. The train was
on the point of starting when I noticed, as I
thought, Harris' bicycle still in the goods van.
No one was about to help me. I jumped into the
van and hauled it out only just in time. Wheel-
ing it down the platform in triumph, I came
across Harris' bicycle standing against a wall
behind some milk cans. The bicycle I had
secured was not Harris', but some other man's.

It was an awkward situation. In England I
should have gone to the station-master and ex-
plained my mistake. But in Germany they are
not content with your explaining a little matter
of this sort to one man ; they take you around
and get you to explain it to about half a dozen,
and if any one of the half-dozen happens not to
be handy, or not to have time just then to listen
to you, they have a habit of leaving you over for
the night to finish your explanation the next
morning. I thought I would just put the thing

176

" ' Where did you get it from ? '

In "Toils of German L

a w

out of sight, and then, without making any fuss
or show, take a short walk. I found a woodshed
which seemed just the very place, and was wheel-
ing the bicycle into it when, unfortunately, a red-
hatted railway official, with the airs of a retired
Field Marshal, caught sight of me and came up.
He said : —

" What are you doing with that bicycle ? "

I said : " I am going to put it in this wood-
shed out of the way." I tried to convey by my
tone that I was performing a kind and thought-
ful action for which the railway officials ought to
thank me ; but he was unresponsive.

" Is it your bicycle ? " he said.

" Well, not exactly," I replied.

" Whose is it ? " he asked quite sharply.

" I can't tell you," I answered. " I don't
know whose bicycle it is."

" Where did you get it from ? " was his next
question. There was a suspiciousness about his
tone that was almost insulting.

" I got it," I answered with as much calm
dignity as at the moment I could assume, " out
of the train. The fact is," I continued frankly,
" I have made a mistake."

He did not allow me time to finish. He
merely said he thought so, too, and blew a
whistle.

Recollection of the subsequent proceedings is

not, so far as I am concerned, amusing. By a.
12 I77

Three Men on Wheels

miracle of good luck — they say Providence
watches over certain of us — the incident hap-
pened in Carlsruhe, where I possess a German
friend, an official of some importance. Upon
what would have been my fate had the station not
been Carlsruhe, or had my friend been from
home, I do not care to dwell ; as it was, I got
off, as the saying is, by the skin of my teeth. I
should like to add that I left Carlsruhe without a
stain upon my character, but that would not
be the truth. My going scot free is regarded in
police circles there to this day as a grave mis-
carriage of justice.

But all lesser sin sinks into insignificance be-
side the lawlessness of George. The bicycle
incident had thrown us all into confusion,
with the result that we lost George altogether.
It transpired subsequently that he was waiting
for us outside the police court ; but this at the
time we did not know. We thought maybe he
had gone on to Baden by himself and, anxious
to get away from Carlsruhe, and not perhaps
thinking out things too clearly, we jumped into
the next train that came up and proceeded
thither. When George, tired of waiting, re-
turned to the station he found us gone, and he
found his luggage gone. Harris had his ticket,
I was acting as banker to the party, so that he
had in his pocket only some small change. Ex-
cusing himself upon these grounds, he thereupon

178

In Toils of German Law

commenced deliberately a career of crime that,
reading it later as set forth baldly in the official
summons, made the hair of Harris and myself
almost to stand on end.

German travelling, it may be explained, is
somewhat complicated. You buy a ticket at the
station you start from for the place you want to
go to. You might think this would enable you
to get there, but it does not. When your train
comes up you attempt to swarm into it, but the
guard magnificently waves you away. Where
are your credentials? You show him your ticket.
He explains to you that by itself that is of no
service whatever; you have only taken the first
step toward travelling ; you must go back to the
booking office and get in addition what is called
a "schnellzug" ticket. With this you return,
thinking your troubles over. You are allowed to
get in ; so far so good. But you must not sit
down anywhere, and you must not stand still, and
you must not wander about. You must take
another ticket, this time what is called a "platz"
ticket, which entitles you to a place for a certain
distance.

What a man could do who persisted in taking
nothing but the one ticket I have often wondered.
Would he be entitled to run behind the train on
the six-foot way? Or could he stick a label on
himself and get into the goods van ? Again,
what would be done with the man who, having

179

Three Men on

taken his schnellzug ticket, obstinately refused or
had not the money to take a platz ticket ; would
they let him lie in the umbrella rack, or allow
him to hang himself out of window?

To return to George, he had just sufficient
money to take a third-class, slow-train ticket to
Baden, and that was all. To avoid the inquisi-
tiveness of the guard, he waited till the train was
moving and then jumped in.

That was his first sin : (a) Entering a train in
motion (b) after being warned not to do so by
an official.

Second sin : (a) Travelling in train of superior
class to that for which ticket was held, (b) Re-
fusing to pay difference when demanded by an
official. (George says he did not " refuse " ; he
simply told the man he had not got it.)

Third sin : (a) Travelling in carriage of supe-
rior class to that for which ticket was held, (b)
Refusing to pay difference when demanded by
an official. (Again George disputes the accu-
racy of the report. He turned his pockets out,
and offered the man all he had, which was about
eightpence in German money. He offered to
go into a third class, but there was no third class.
He offered to go into the goods van, but they
would not hear of it.)

Fourth sin : (a) Occupying seat and not pay-
ing for same. (b) Loitering about corridor.
(As they would not let him sit down without

180

In Toils of German Law

paying, and as he could not pay, it was difficult
to see what else he could do.)

But explanations are held as no excuse in
Germany ; and his journey from Carlsruhe to
Baden was one of the most expensive perhaps
on record.

Reflecting upon the ease and frequency with
which one gets into trouble here in Germany, one
is led to the conclusion that this country would
come as a boon and a blessing to the average
young Englishman. To the medical student,
to the eater of dinners at the Temple, to the
subaltern on leave, life in London is a wearisome
proceeding. The healthy Briton takes his pleas-
ure lawlessly or it is no pleasure to him.
Nothing that he may do affords to. him any
genuine satisfaction. To be in trouble of some
sort is his only idea of bliss. Now, England
affords him small opportunity in this respect ;
to get himself into a scrape requires a good deal
of persistence on the part of the young English-
man.

I spoke on this subject one day with our senior
churchwarden. It was the morning of the tenth
of November, and we were both of us glancing
somewhat anxiously through the police reports.
The usual batch of young men had been sum-
moned for creating the usual disturbance the
night before at the Criterion. My friend, the
churchwarden, has boys of his own, and a

181

Tb r e e Men on W^b eels

nephew of mine, upon whom I am keeping a
fatherly eye, is by a fond mother supposed to
be in London for the sole purpose of studying
engineering. No name we knew happened, by
fortunate chance, to be in the list of those de-
tained in custody, and relieved, we fell to moral-
izing upon the folly and depravity of youth.

" It is very remarkable," said my friend, the
churchwarden, " how the Criterion retains its
position in this respect. It was just so when I
was young ; the evening always wound up with
a row at the Criterion."

" So meaningless/' I remarked.

" So monotonous," he replied. " You have
no idea," he continued, a dreamy expression
stealing over his furrowed face, " how unuttera-
bly tired one can become of the walk from Picca-
dilly Circus to the Vine Street Police Court.
Yet, what else was there for. us to do ? Simply
nothing. Sometimes we would put out a street
lamp and a man would come around and light
it again. If one insulted a policeman he simply
took no notice. He did not even know he was
being insulted ; or if he did he seemed not to
care. You could fight a Covent Garden porter
if you fancied yourself at that sort of thing.
Generally speaking, the porter got the best of
it ; and when he did it cost you five shillings,
and when he did not the price was half a sov-
ereign. I could never see much excitement in

182

In Toils of German L

a w

that particular sport. I tried driving a hansom
cab once ; that has always been regarded as the
acme of modern Tom-and-Jerryism. I stole it
late one night from outside a public house in
Dean Street, and the first thing that happened
to me was that I was hailed in Golden Square
by an old lady surrounded by three children,
two of them crying and the third one half asleep.
Before I could get away she had shot the brats
into the cab, taken my number, paid me, so she
said, a shilling over the legal fare, and directed
me to an address beyond what she called North
Kensington. As a matter of fact, the place
turned out to be the other side of Willesden.
The horse was tired, and the journey took us
well over two hours. It was the slowest lark I
ever remember being concerned in. I tried once
or twice to persuade the children to let me take
them back to the old lady ; but every time I
opened the trap door to speak to them, the
youngest one, the boy, started screaming, and
when I offered other drivers to transfer the job
to them, most of them replied in the words of
a song popular about that period : c Oh, George,
Don't You Think You 're Going Just a Bit Too
Far?' One man offered to take home to my
wife any last message I might be thinking of,
while another promised to organise a party to
come and dig me out in the spring.

" When I had mounted the dickey I had im-
183

Three Men on Wheels

agined myself driving a peppery old Colonel to
some lonesome and cabless .region, half a dozen
miles from where he wanted to go, and there
leaving him upon the curbstone to swear. About
that there might have been good sport, or there
might not, according to the circumstances, and
the Colonel. The idea of a trip to an outlying
suburb in charge of a nursery full of helpless in-
fants had never occurred to me.

" No," concluded my friend, the churchwarden,
with a sigh, " London affords but limited op-
portunity to the lover of the illegal."

Now, in Germany, on the other hand, trouble
is to be had for the asking. There are many
things in Germany that you must not do that are
quite easy to do. To any young Englishman
yearning to get himself into a scrape, and finding
himself hampered in his own country, I should
advise a single ticket to Germany ; a return, last-
ing as it does only two months, might prove a
waste.

In the Police Guide of the Fatherland he will
find set forth a list of the things the doing of
which will bring to him interest and excitement.
In Germany you must not hang your bed out of
window. He might begin with that. By waving
his bed out of window he could get into trouble
before he had had his breakfast. At home he
might hang himself out of window and nobody
would mind much, provided he did not obstruct

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anybody's ancient lights or break away and injure
any passer underneath.

In Germany you must not wear fancy dress in
the streets. A Highlander of my acquaintance,
who came to pass the winter in Dresden, spent
the first week of his residence there in arguing this
question with the Saxon Government. They
asked him what he was doing in those clothes.
He was not an amiable man. He answered he
was wearing them. They asked him why he was
wearing them. He replied to keep himself warm.
They told him frankly that they did not believe
him, and sent him back to his lodgings in a closed
landau. The personal testimony of the English
Minister was necessary to assure the authorities
that the Highland garb was the customary dress
of many respectable law-abiding British subjects.
They accepted the statement, as diplomatically
bound, but retain their private opinion to this
day. The English tourist they have grown ac-
customed to. But a Leicestershire gentleman,
invited to hunt with some German officers, on
appearing outside his hotel was promptly marched
off, horse and all, to explain his frivolity at the
police court.

Another thing you must not do in the streets
of German towns is to feed horses, mules or don-
keys, whether your own or those belonging to
other people. If a passion seizes you to feed
somebody else's horse, you must make an ap-

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Th r e e Men on U^h eel

pointment with the animal, and the n»eal must
take place in some properly authorised place.
You must not break glass or china in the street,
nor, in fact, in any public resort whatever, and if
you do you must pick up all the pieces. What
you are to do with the pieces when you have
gathered them together I cannot say. The only
thing I know for certain is that you are not per-
mitted to throw them anywhere, to leave them
anywhere, or apparently to part with them in any
way whatever. Presumably you are expected to
carry them about with you until you die, and
then be buried with them. Or maybe you are
allowed to swallow them.

In German streets you must not shoot with a
cross-bow. The German law-maker does not
content himself with the misdeeds of the average
man : the crimes one feels one wants to do, but
must not ; he worries himself imagining all the
things a wandering maniac might do. In Ger-
many there is no law against a man standing on
his head in the middle of the road ; the idea has
not occurred to them. One of these days a Ger-
man statesman, visiting a circus and seeing acro-
bats, will reflect upon this omission. Then he
will straightway set to work and frame a clause
forbidding people from standing on their heads
in the middle of the road, and fixing a fine. This
is the charm of German law : misdemeanour in
Germany has its fixed price. You are not kept

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w

awake all night, as in England, wondering whether
you will get off with a caution, be fined forty
shillings or, catching the magistrate in an unhappy
moment for yourself, get seven days. You know
exactly what your fun is going to cost you. You
can spread out your money on the table, open
your Police Guide, and plan out your evening to
a fifty-pfennig piece. For a really cheap evening
I would recommend walking on the wrong side
of the pavement after being cautioned not to do
so. I calculate that by choosing your district
and keeping to the quiet side-streets you could
walk for a whole evening on the wrong side of
the pavement at a cost .of little over three
marks.

In German towns you must not ramble about
after dark " in droves." I am not quite sure how
many constitute a " drove," and no official to
whom I have spoken on this subject has felt him-
self competent to fix the exact number. I once
put it to a German friend who was starting to the
theatre with his wife, his mother-in-law, five chil-
dren of his own, his sister and her fiance, and two
nieces, if he did not think he was running a risk
under this by-law. He did not take my sugges-
tion as a joke. He cast an eye over the group.

" Oh, I don't think so," he said ; " you see we
are all one family."

" The paragraph says nothing about its being
a family drove or not," I replied. " It simply

187

Th r e e Men on ft^h eels

says c drove/ I do not mean it in any uncompli-
mentary sense ; but, speaking etymologically, I
am inclined personally to regard your collection
as a c drove/ Whether the police will take the
same view or not remains to be seen. I am
merely warning you/'

My friend was inclined to pooh-hooh my fears,
but, his wife thinking it better not to run any
risk of having the party broken up at the very
beginning of the evening, they divided, arranging
to come together again in the theatre lobby.

Another passion you must restrain in Germany
is that prompting you to throw things out of
window. Cats are no excuse. During the first
week of my residence in Germany I was awakened
incessantly by cats. One night I got mad. I
collected a small arsenal: two or three pieces of
coal, a few hard pears, a couple of candle ends, an
odd egg I found on the kitchen table, an empty
soda water bottle and a few articles of that sort,
and, opening the window, bombarded the spot
from where the noise appeared to come. I do
not suppose I hit anything ; I never knew a man
who did hit a cat, even when he could see it, ex-
cept maybe by accident when aiming at something
else. I have known crack shots, winners of
Queen's prizes — that sort of men — shoot wifh
shot guns at cats fifty yards away and never hit a
hair. I have often thought that instead of bull's-
eyes, running deer and that rubbish, the really

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In Toils of German L

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superior marksman would be he who could boast
that he had shot the cat.

" He bombarded the spot "

But, anyhow, they moved off; maybe the egg
annoyed them. I had noticed when I picked it

189

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

up that it did not look like a good egg, and I
went back to bed again, thinking the incident
closed. Ten minutes afterward there came a
violent ringing of the electric bell. 1 tried to
ignore it, but it was too persistent, and, putting
on my dressing-gown, I went down to the gate.
A policeman was standing there. He had all
the things I had been throwing out of the
window in a little heap in front of him, all except
the egg ; he had evidently been collecting them.
He said :

" Are these things yours ? "
I said : " They were mine, but personally I
have done with them. Anybody can have them
— you can have them."

He ignored my offer. He said :
" You threw these things out of window ? "
" You are right," I admitted ; " I did."
" Why did you throw them out of window ? "
he asked. A German policeman has his code
of questions arranged for him ; he never varies
them, and he never omits one.

" I threw them out of the window at some
cats," I answered.

"What cats?" he asked.

It was the sort of question a German police-
man would ask. I replied with as much sarcasm
as I could put into my accent that I was ashamed
to say I could not tell him what cats. I
explained that personally they were strangers to

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In Toils of German La

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me , but I offered, if the police would call all the
cats in his district together, to come around and
see if I could recognize them by their yawl.

The German policeman does not understand a
joke, which is, perhaps on the whole, just as well,
for I believe there is a heavy fine for joking with
any German uniform ; they call it " treating an
official with contumely." He merely replied that
it was not the duty of the police to help me
recognize the cats ; their duty was merely to fine
me for throwing things out of window.

I asked what a man was supposed to do in
Germany when woke up night after night by
cats, and he explained that I could lodge an
information against the owner of the cat, when
the police would proceed to caution him, and if
necessary order the cat to be destroyed ; who was
going to destroy the cat, and what the cat would
be doing during the process, he did not explain.

I asked him how he proposed I should dis-
cover the owner of the cat. He thought for a
while and then suggested that I might follow it
home. I did not feel inclined to argue with him
any more after that; I should only have said
things that would have made the matter worse.
As it was, that night's sport cost me twelve
marks, and not a single one of the six German
officials who interviewed me on the subject could
see anything ridiculous in the proceedings from
beginning to end.

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r e e Men on Wh eels

But in Germany most human faults and follies
sink into insignificance beside the enormity of
walking on the grass. Nowhere, and under no
circumstances, may you at any time in Germany
walk upon the grass. Grass in Germany is quite
a fetich. To put your foot on German grass
would be as great a sacrilege as to dance a horn-
pipe on a Mohammedan's praying-mat. The
very dogs respect the German grass ; no German
dog would dream of putting a paw upon it. If
you see a dog scampering across the grass in
Germany you may know for certain that it is
the dog of some unholy foreigner. In England,
when we want to keep dogs out of places, we put
up wire netting, six feet high, supported by but-
tresses, and defended on the top by spikes. In
Germany they put a notice-board in the middle
of the place : " Hunden verboten," and a dog
that has German blood in its veins looks at that
notice-board and walks away. In a German park
I have seen a gardener step gingerly with felt
boots on to a grass plot, and removing therefrom
a beetle, place it gravely but firmly on the gravel,
which done he stood sternly watching that beetle
to see that it did not try to get back on to the
grass ; and the beetle, looking utterly ashamed
of itself, walked hurriedly down the gutter and
turned up the first path marked " Way out."

In German parks separate roads are devoted
to the different orders of the community, and no

192

In Toils of German Law

one person, at peril of their liberty and fortune,
may go upon another person's road. There are
special paths for "wheel-riders," and special paths
for " foot-goers," avenues for " horse-riders," roads
for people in light vehicles, and roads for people
in heavy vehicles ; ways for children and for
"alone ladies." That no particular route has
yet been set aside for bald-headed men or " new
women " has always struck me as an omission.

In the Grosse Garten in Dresden I once came
across an old lady standing helpless and bewildered
in the centre of seven tracks. Each was guarded
by a threatening notice warning everybody off it
but the person for whom it was intended.

" I am sorry to trouble you," said the old lady,
on learning I could speak English and read
German, " but would you mind telling me what
I am and where I have to go ? "

I inspected her carefully. I came to the con-
clusion that she was a " grown-up " and a " foot-
goer," and pointed out her path. She looked at
it and seemed disappointed.

" But I don't want to go down there," she
said ; " may n't I go this way ? "

" Great Heavens, no, madam ! " I replied.
" That path is reserved for children."

" But I would n't do them any harm," said
the old lady with a smile. She did not look the
sort of old lady who would have done them any
harm.

13 193

Th r e e Men on W^h eels

" Madam/' I replied, " if it rested with me I
would trust you down that path, though my own
first-born were at the other end ; but I can only
inform you of the laws of this country. For
you, a full-grown woman, to venture down that
path is to go to certain fine, if not imprisonment.
There is your path marked plainly, c Nur fur
Fussganger,' and if you will follow my advice
you will hasten down it ; you are not allowed to
stand here and hesitate."

" It does n't lead a bit in the direction I want
to go," said the old lady.

"It leads in the direction you ought to want to
go," I replied, and we parted.

In the German parks there are especial seats
labelled, " Only for grown-ups " (Nur fur Erwach-
sene), and the German small boy, anxious to sit
down, and reading that notice, passes by and
hunts for a seat on which children are permitted
to rest, and there he seats himself, careful not
to touch the woodwork with his muddy boots.
Imagine a seat in Regent's or St. James' Park
labelled, " Only for grown-ups " ! Every child
for five miles around would be trying to get on
that seat, and hauling other children off who
were on. As for any " grown-up," he would
never be able to get within half a mile of that
seat for the crowd. The German small boy who
has accidentally sat down on such without notic-
ing, rises with a start when his error is pointed

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In Toils of German La

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out to him, and goes away with downcast head,
blushing to the roots of his hair with shame and
regret.

Not that the German child is neglected by a
paternal Government. In German parks and
public gardens especial play-places (Spielplatze)
are provided for him, each one supplied with a
heap of sand. There he can play to his heart's
content at making mud pies and building sand
castles. To the German child a pie made of any
other mud than this would appear an immoral
pie. It would give to him no satisfaction : his
soul would revolt against it.

" That pie," he would say to himself, " was
not, as it should have been, made of Government
mud especially set apart for the purpose ; it was
not manufactured in the place planned and main-
tained by the Government for the making of mud
pies. It can bring no real blessing with it ; it is
a lawless pie." And until his father had paid the
proper fine and he had received the proper licking
his conscience would continue to trouble him.

Another excellent piece of material for obtain-
ing excitement in Germany is the simple domestic
perambulator. What you may do with a Kinder-
wagen, as it is called, and what you may not,
covers pages of German law, after the reading of
which you conclude that the man who can push
a perambulator through a German town without
breaking the law was meant for a diplomatist.

Th r e e Men on IFh eels

You must not loiter with a perambulator, and you
must not go too fast. You must not get in any-
body's way with a perambulator, and if anybody
gets in your way you must get out of their way.
If you want to stop with a perambulator you
must go to a place especially appointed where
perambulators may stop ; and when you get there
you must stop. You must not cross the road
with a perambulator ; if you and the baby happen
to live on the other side, that is your fault. You
must not leave your perambulator anywhere, and
only in certain places can you take it with you.
I should say that in Germany you could go out
with a perambulator and get into enough trouble
in half an hour to last you for a month. Any
young Englishman anxious for a row with the
police could not do better than come over to
Germany and bring his perambulator with him.

In Germany you must not leave your own
front door unlocked after ten o'clock at night,
and you must not play the piano in your own
house after eleven. In England I have never
felt I wanted to play the piano myself or to hear
any one else play it after eleven o'clock at night ;
but that is a very different thing to being told
that you must not play it. Here in Germany I
never feel that I really care for the piano until
eleven o'clock ; then I could sit and listen to the
Maiden's Prayer or the Overture from Zampa
with pleasure. To the law-loving German, on

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In Toils of German La

w

the other hand, music after eleven o'clock at
night ceases to be music ; it becomes sin ; and as
such gives him no satisfaction.

The only individual throughout Germany who
ever dreams of taking liberties with the law is the
German student, and he only to a certain well-
defined point. By custom certain privileges are
permitted to him, but even these are strictly
limited and clearly understood. For instance, the
German student may get drunk and fall asleep in
the gutter with no other penalty than that of
having to tip the next morning the policeman
who finds him and brings him home. But for
this purpose he must choose the gutters of side
streets. The German student, conscious of the
rapid approach of oblivion, uses all his remaining
energy to get around the corner, where he may
collapse without anxiety. In certain districts he **
may ring bells. The rent of flats in these locali^
ties is lower than in other quarters of the town ;
while the difficulty is further met by each family
preparing for itself a secret code of bell-ringing
by means of which it is known whether the sum-
mons is genuine or not. When visiting such a
household late at night it is well to be acquainted
with this code, or you may, if persistent, get a
bucket of water thrown over you.

Also, the German student is allowed to put out
lights at night, but there is a prejudice against
his putting out too many. The larky German

197

r e e Men on W h eels

student generally keeps count, contenting himself
with half a dozen lights per night. Likewise, he
may shout and sing as he walks home up till
half-past two ; and at certain restaurants it is
permitted to him to put his arm around the
Fraulein's waist. To prevent any suggestion of
unseemliness, the waitresses at restaurants fre-
quented by students are always carefully selected
from among a staid and elderly class of women,
by reason of which the German student can enjoy
the delights of flirtation without fear and without
reproach to any one.

They are a law-abiding people, the Germans.

198

X. — THE WAYS OF THE
GERMAN DOG

FROM Baden, about which it need only
be said that it is a pleasure resort singu-
larly like other pleasure resorts of the
same description, we started bicyling 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 all Germany : the
Danube stream, here winding its narrow way
past old-world, unspoiled villages ; past ancient
monasteries, nestling in green pastures, where
still the bare-footed and bare-headed friar, his
rope girdle tight fcbout his Joins, shepherds, with
crook in hand, their sheep upon the hillsides ;
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 conver-
sation with the stranger somewhat nervous work.

199 .

T'h r e e Men on Wh eels

We did not succeed in carrying out our pro-
gramme 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. Don't you think
so ? " adds another.

" Oh, undoubtedly."

" So cool and fresh."

" And the half lights are so exquisite."

The first morning one maintains one's vows.
The party assembles at half-past five. It is very
silent ; individually, somewhat snappy ; inclined
to grumble with its food ; also with most other
things ; the atmosphere charged with compressed
irritability, seeking its vent. In the evening the
Tempter's voice is heard :

" I think if we got off by half-past six, sharp,
that would be time enough ? "

The voice of Virtue protests faintly : " It will
be breaking our resolution."

Then Tempter replies : " Resolutions were
made for man, not man for resolutions/' The
devil can paraphrase Scripture for his own purpose.
" Besides, it is disturbing the whole hotel ; think
of the poor servants."

200

IF ay s of the German Dog

The voice of Virtue continues, but even feebler :
" But everybody gets up early in these parts."

" They would not if they were not obliged
to, poor things. Say breakfast at half-past six,
punctual ; that will be disturbing nobody."

Thus Sin masquerades under the guise of Good,
and one sleeps till six, explaining to one's con-
science, who, hpwever, does n't believe it, that
one does this because of unselfish consideration
for others. I have known such consideration
extend until seven of the clock.

Likewise distance measured with a pair of
compasses is not precisely the same as when
measured by the leg.

" Ten miles an hour for seven hours, seventy
miles. A nice, easy day's work."

" There are some stiff hills to climb ? "

"The other side to come down. Say eight
miles an hour, and call it sixty miles. If we
can't average eight miles an hour we had better
go in bath-chairs." It does seem somewhat
impossible to do less, on paper.

But at four o'clock in the afternoon the voice
of Duty rings less trumpet-toned.

c Well, I suppose we ought to be getting on."

"Oh, there's no hurry; don't fuss. Lovely
view from here, is n't it ? "

" Very. Don't forget we are twenty-five miles
from St. Blasien."

"How far?"

2OI

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

" Twenty-five miles ; a little over, if anything."

" Do you mean to say we have only come
thirty-five miles ? "

" That 's all."

" Nonsense. I don't believe that map of
yours."

" It is impossible, you know. We have been
riding steadily ever since the first thing this
morning."

" No, we have n't. We did n't get away till
eight, to begin with."

" Quarter to eight."

" Well, quarter to eight ; and every half-dozen
miles we have stopped."

" We have only stopped to look at the view.
It 's no good coming to see a country and then
not seeing it."

" And we have had to pull up some stiff hills."

" Besides, it has been an exceptionally hot day."

" Well, don't forget St. Blasien is twenty-five
miles off, that's all."

" Any more hills ? "

" Yes — two, up and down."

" I thought you said it was downhill into St.
Blasien ? "

"So it is for the last ten miles. We are
twenty-five miles from St. Blasien here."

"Is n't there anywhere between here and St.
Blasien ? What 's that little place there on the
lake ? "

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Iff ays of the German Dog

" It is n't St. Blasien, or anywhere near it.
There 's a danger in beginning that sort of thing."

" There 's a danger in overworking one's self.
One should study moderation in all things.
Pretty little place, that Titisee, according to the
map ; looks as if there would be good air there."

" All right, I 'm agreeable. It was you fellows
suggested our making for St. Blasien/'

" Oh, I 'm not so keen on St. Blasien — poky
little place, down in a valley. This Titisee, I
should say, was ever so much nicer."

" Quite near, is n't it?"

" Five miles."

General chorus : " We '11 stop at Titisee."

George made discovery of this difference be-
tween theory and practice on the very first day of
our ride.

" I thought," said George — he was riding the
single, Harris and I being a little ahead on
the tandem — "that the idea was to train up
the hills, and ride down them."

" So it is," answered Harris, " as a general rule.
But the trains don't go up every hill in the Black
Forest."

"Somehow I felt a suspicion that they
would n't," growled George ; and for awhile
silence reigned.

" Besides," remarked Harris, who had evidently
been ruminating the subject, "you would not
wish to have nothing but downhill, surely. It

203

Three Men on Wheels

would not be playing the game. One must take
a little rough with one's smooth."

Again there returned silence, broken after
awhile by George, this time.

" Don't you two fellows over-exert yourselves
merely on my account," said George.

" How do you mean ? " asked Harris.

" I mean," answered George, " that where a
train does happen to be going up these hills,
don't you put aside the idea of taking it for fear
of outraging my finer feelings. Personally, I am
prepared to go up all these hills in a railway train,
even if it 's not playing the game. I '11 square
the thing with my conscience ; I 've been up at
seven every day for a week now, and I calculate
it owes me a bit. Don't you consider me in the
matter at all."

We promised to bear this in mind, and again
the ride continued in dogged dumbness, until it
was again broken by George.

" What bicycle did you say this was of yours ? "
asked George."

Harris told him. I forget of what particular
manufacture it happened to be ; it is immaterial.

" Are you sure ? " persisted George.

" Of course I 'm sure," answered Harris.
" Why, what's the matter with it ? "

" Well, it does n't come up to the poster," said
George, "that's all."

" What poster ? " asked Harris.
204

c Don't you two fellows over-exert yours el

ves on

my account

of the German Dog

" The poster advertising this particular brand
of cycle/' explained George. " I was looking at

"?MI«M!ftM!*

7 was looting at one on a hoarding ' '

one on a hoarding in Sloane Street only a day or
two before we started. A man was riding this
make of machine — a man with a banner in his

205

Th r e e Men on JFh eels

hand ; he was n't doing any work, that was as'
clear as daylight ; he was just sitting on the thing
and drinking in the air. The bicycle was going
of its own accord, and going well. This thing
of yours leaves all the work to me. It is a lazy
brute of a machine ; if you don't shove, it simply
does nothing. I should complain about it if I
were you."

When one comes to think of it, few bicycles
do realize the poster. On only one poster that
I can recollect have I seen the rider represented
as doing any work. But then, this man was
being pursued by a bull. In ordinary cases the
object of the artist is to convince the hesitating
neophyte that the sport of bicycling consists in
sitting on a luxurious saddle and being moved
rapidly in the direction you wish to go by unseen
Heavenly powers.

Generally speaking, the rider is a lady, and
then one feels, that for perfect bodily rest com-
bined with entire freedom from mental anxiety,
slumber upon a water-bed cannot compare with
bicycle riding upon a hilly road. No fairy
travelling on a summer cloud could take things
more easily than does the bicycle girl, according
to the poster. Her costume for cycling in hot
weather is ideal. Old-fashioned landladies might
refuse her lunch, it is true ; and a narrow-minded
police force might desire to secure her and wrap
her in a rug preliminary to summonsing her.

206

IF ay s of the German Dog

But such she heeds not. Uphill and downhill,
through traffic that might tax the ingenuity of a
cat, over road surfaces calculated to break the
average steam-roller she passes, a vision of idle
loveliness ; her fair hair streaming to the wind,
her sylph-like form poised airily, one foot upon
the saddle, the other resting lightly upon the
lamp. Sometimes she condescends to sit down
on the saddle ; then she puts her feet upon the
rests, lights a cigarette, and waves above her head
a Chinese lantern.

Less often, it is a mere male thing that rides the
machine. He is not so accomplished an acrobat
as is the lady : but simple tricks, such as standing
on the saddle and waving flags, drinking beer or
beef-tea while riding, he can and does perform ;
something, one supposes, he must do to occupy
his mind. Sitting still hour after hour on this
machine, having no work to do, nothing to think
about, must pall upon any man of active temper-
ament. Thus it is that we see him rising on his
pedals, as he nears the top of some high hill, to
apostrophise the sun or address poetry to the
surrounding scenery.

Occasionally the poster pictures a pair of
cyclists ; and then one grasps the fact how much
superior for purposes of flirtation is the modern
bicycle to the old-fashioned parlor or the played-
out garden gate. He and she mount their
bicycles, being careful, of course, that they are of

207

Th r e e Men on IFh eels

the right make. After that they have nothing
to think about but the old sweet tale. Down
shady lanes, through busy towns on market days,
merrily roll the wheels of the " Bermondsey
Company's Bottom Bracket Britain's Best," or of
the " Camberwell Company's Jointless Eureka."
They need no pedalling ; they require no guiding.
Give them their heads, and tell them what time
you want to get home, and that is all they ask.
While Edwin leans from his saddle to whisper
the dear old nothings in Angelina's , ear, while
Angelina's face, to hide its blushes, is turned
toward the horizon at the back, the magic bicycles
pursue their even course.

And the sun is always shining, and the roads
are always dry. No stern parent rides behind,
no interfering aunt beside, no demon small-boy
brother is peeping around the corner ; there never
comes a skid : Ah, me ! Why were there no
" Britain's Best" nor "Camberwell Eurekas " to
be hired when we were young ?

Or maybe the " Britain's Best " or the " Cam-
berwell Eureka " stands leaning against a gate ;
maybe it is tired. It has worked hard all the
afternoon, carrying these young people. Merci-
fully minded, they have dismounted, to give the
machine a rest. They sit upon the grass beneath
the shade of graceful boughs; it is long and dry
grass. A stream flows by their feet. All is idle-
ness and peace.

208

U^ ay s of the German Dog

That is ever the idea the cycle poster artist
sets himself to convey — idleness and peace.

But I am wrong in saying that no cyclist,
according to the poster, ever works. Now I
come to reflect, I have seen posters representing
gentlemen on cycles working very hard — over-
working themselves, one might almost say.
They are thin and haggard with the toil, the
perspiration stands upon their brow in beads ;
you feel that if there is another hill beyond the
poster they must either get off or die. But this
is the result of their own folly. This happens
because they will persist in riding a machine of
an inferior make. Were they riding a " Putney
Popular " or cc Battersea Bounder " such as the
sensible young man in the centre of the poster
rides, then all this unnecessary labour would be
saved to them. Then all required of them would
be, as in gratitude bound, to look happy; per-
haps occasionally to back-pedal a little when the
machine in its youthful buoyancy loses its head
for a moment and dashes on too swiftly.

You tired young men, sitting dejectedly on
milestones, too spent to heed the steady rain
that soaks you through ; you weary maidens,
with the straight, damp hair, anxious about the
time, longing to swear, not knowing how ; you
stout, bald men, vanishing visibly as you pant
and grunt along the endless road ; you purple,
dejected matrons, plying with pain the slow, un-
14 209

Tb r e e Men on Wh eels

willing wheel — why did you not see to it that
you bought a "Britain's Best" or a "Camberwell
Eureka" ? Why are these bicycles of inferior
make so prevalent throughout the land?

Or is it with bicycling as with all other things ?
— does life at no point realize the poster ?

The one thing in Germany that never fails to
charm and fascinate me is the German dog. In
England one grows tired of the old breeds, one
knows them all so well : the mastiff, the
plum-pudding dog, the terrier (black, white, or
rough-haired, as. the case may be, but always
quarrelsome), the collie, the bull dog; never
anything new. Now, in Germany you get variety.
You come across dogs the like of which you have
never seen before ; that until you hear them bark
you do not know are dogs. It is all so fresh, so
interesting. George stopped a dog in Sigma-
ringen, and drew our attention to it. It sug-
gested a cross between a codfish and a poodle.
I would not like to be positive it was not a cross
between a codfish and a poodle. Harris tried to
photograph it, but it ran up a fence and dis-
appeared through some bushes.

I do not know what the German breeder's idea
is ; at present he retains his secret. George sug-
gests he is aiming at a griffin. There is much to
bear out this theory ; and indeed, in one or two
cases I have come across, success on these lines
would seem to have been almost achieved. Yet

210

W ay s of the German Dog

I cannot bring myself to believe that such are
anything more than mere accidents. The Ger-
man mind is practical, and I fail to see the object
of a griffin. If mere quaintness of design be
desired, is there not already the dachshund ?
What more is needed ? Besides, about a house,
a griffin would be so inconvenient ; people would
be continually treading on its tail. ... My own idea
is that what the Germans are trying for is a mer-
maid, which they will then train to catch fish.

For your German does not encourage laziness
in any living thing. He likes to see his dogs
work, and the German dog loves work ; of that
there can be no doubt. The life of the English
dog must be a misery to him. Imagine a strong,
active and intelligent being, of exceptionally
energetic temperament, condemned to spend
twenty-four hours a day in absolute idleness !
How would you like it yourself? No wonder he
feels misunderstood, yearns for the unattainable,
and gets himself into trouble generally.

Now the German dog, on the other hand, has
plenty to occupy his mind. He is busy and
important. Watch him as he walks along har-
nessed to his milk cart. No churchwarden at
collection time could feel or look more pleased
with himself. He does not do any real work;
the human being does the pushing, he does the
barking ; that is his idea of division of labour.
What he says to himself is :

211

Three Men on Wheels

" The old man can't bark, but he can shove.
Very well."

The interest and the pride he takes in the
business are quite beautiful to see. Another dog
passing by makes, maybe, some jeering remark,
casting discredit upon the creaminess of the
milk. He stops suddenly, quite regardless of
the traffic.

" I beg your pardon, what was that you said
about our milk ? "

" I said nothing about your milk," retorts the
other dog, in a tone of gentle innocence ; " I
merely said it was a fine day, arid asked the price
of chalk."

" Oh, you asked the price of chalk, did you ?
Would you like to know ? "

" Yes, thanks ; somehow I thought you would
be able to tell me."

" You are quite right ; I can. It 's worth "

" Oh, do come along," says the old lady, who
is tired and hot, and anxious to finish her round.

" Yes, but hang it all ; did you hear what he
hinted about our milk ? "

" Oh, never mind him. There 's a tram com-
ing around the corner ; we shall all get run over."

" Yes, but I do mind him ; one has one's
proper pride. He asked the price of chalk, and
he's going to know it! It's worth just twenty
times as much "

" You '11 have the whole thing over, I know

212

Way s of the German Dog

you will/* cries the old lady pathetically, struggling
with all her feeble strength to haul him back.
" Oh, dear, oh, dear ! I do wish I had left you
at home."

The tram is bearing down upon them ; a cab
driver is shouting at them ; another huge brute,
hoping to be in time to take a hand, is dragging
a bread cart, followed by a screaming child,
across the road from the opposite side; a small
crowd is collecting ; and a policeman is hastening
to the scene.

"It's worth," says the milk dog, "just twenty
times as much as you'll be worth before I've
done with you."

" Oh, you think so, do you ? "

" Yes, I do, you grandson of a French spaniel,
you fried fish-eating "

" There ! I knew you 'd have it over," says
the poor milkwoman. " I told him he 'd have
it over."

But he is busy and heeds her not. Five
minutes later, when the traffic is renewed, when
the bread girl has collected her muddy rolls, and
the policeman has gone off with the name and
address of everybody in the street, he consents
to look behind him.

" It is a bit of an upset," he admits ; then,
shaking himself free of care, he adds cheerfully :
" But I guess I taught him the price of chalk.
He won't interfere with us again, I 'm thinking."

213

r e e Men on ffih eels

" I 'm sure I hope not/' says the old lady, re-
garding dejectedly the milky road.

But his favourite sport is to wait at the top of
the hill for another dog, and then race down.
On these occasions the chief occupation of the
other fellow is to run about behind, picking up
the scattered articles, loaves, cabbages, or shirts,
as they are jerked out. At the bottom of the
hill he stops and waits for his friend.

" Good race, was n't it ? " he remarks^ panting,
as the Human comes up, laden to the chin.
" I believe I 'd have won it, too, if it had n't
been for that fool of a small boy. He was right
in my way just as I turned the corner. Ton
noticed him ? Wish / had, beastly brat ! What 's
he yelling like that for? Because I knocked him
down and ran over him ? Well, why did n't he
get out of the way ? It's disgraceful, the way
people leave their children about for other creat-
ures to tumble over. Halloa ! did all those
things come out? You couldn't have packed
them very carefully; you should see to a thing
like that. Tou did not dream of my tearing down
the hill, twenty miles an hour ? Surely you know
me better than to expect I 'd let that old
Schneider's dog pass me without an effort. But
there, you never think. You're sure you've
got them all? Tou believe so? I shouldn't
c believe,' if I were you ; I should run back up
the hill again and make sure. Tou feel too tired?

214

Ways of the German Dog

Oh, all right; don't blame me if anything is
missing, that's all."

" They both abused it

He is so self-willed. He is cock-sure that the
correct turning is the second on the right, and
nothing will persuade him that it is the third.
He is positive he can get across the road in

2I5

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

time, and will not be convinced until he sees
the cart smashed up. Then he is very apolo-
getic, it is true. But of what use is that ? As
he is usually the size and strength of a young
bull, and his human companion is generally a
weak-kneed old man or woman or a small child,
he has his way. The greatest punishment his
proprietor can inflict upon him is to leave him
at home, and take the cart out alone. But your
German is too kind-hearted to do this often.

That he is harnessed to the cart for anybody's
pleasure but his own it is impossible to believe ;
and I am confident that the German peasant
plans the tiny harness and fashions the little
cart purely with the hope of gratifying his dog.
In other countries — in Belgium, Holland, and
France — I have seen these draught dogs ill-
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, like the husband of King Alfred's hostess,
was evidently used to it, and did not mind. 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. Maybe, carried away by his passion, he
exaggerated, making the animal out worse than
it really was. Be this as it may, the recital
roused the woman's temper to almost equal heat

216

U^ ay s of the German Dog

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 appear-
ance, its intelligence, its moral sense, its general
ability as a horse. The animal bore the torrent
with exemplary patience for a while ; then it did
the best thing possible to do under the circum-
stances. Without losing its own temper, without
replying a word, it moved quietly away. The
lady returned to her washing, and the man fol-
lowed 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 a
coachman that in the streets of Dresden I once
saw use one 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.

217

XL — LOST IN THE BLACK
FOREST

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 up-
stairs, 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 be-
hind you.

" Good morning. Don't happen to have any
potato peelings in here? No, I see you haven't;
good-by."

Next there is a cackle, and you see the neck
of an old hen stretched around the corner.

" Fine morning, is n'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 quiet-
ness. From a chicken I have always been a

slow eater, and when a dozen— There, I

thought they would n't leave me alone. Now
they '11 all want a bit. You don't mind my get-

218

Lost in the Black Forest

ting on the bed, do you? Perhaps here they
won't notice me."

"You are dressing when you bear a grunt"

While you are dressing, various shock heads
peer in at the door; they evidently regard the
room as a temporary menagerie. You cannot

219

Tb r e e Men on W ~ h eels

tell whether the heads belong to boys or girls ;
you can only hope they are all male. It is of
no use to shut 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 drops 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 Lim-
burger 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 there; all 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 to
miss it, and are unable to go to sleep in any
other atmosphere.

220

Lost in the Black Forest

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 us our break-
fast.

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 around 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

221

Three Men on Wheels

at the top and the hayloft at the bottom.) Then
the horse, it would seem, must also have its con-
stitutional around the house, and this seen to, the
man goes downstairs into the kitchen and begins
to chop wood ; and when he has chopped suffi-
cient 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.

We had a frugal breakfast at half-past four
and started away at five. Our road lay over a
mountain, and from inquiries 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 does n'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 signpost in-
dicated that the path to the left led to a place
that we had never heard of — that 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 re-
minded us, " cKeep straight on around the hill ! ' "

" Which hill ? " George asked pertinently.

222

Lost in the Black Forest

We were confronted by about half a dozen, some
of them big and 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," said George, " I begin to disbelieve
him."

" Well, what shall we do ? " asked 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 way — moun-
tains, precipices, rivers, and such like obstructions
— is 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 had not character enough to continue for
any quarter .of a mile in the same direction, that
after three miles up and down hill it ended ab-
ruptly in a wasp's nest, was not a thing that
should have been laid to my door. If the mid-
dle road had gone in the direction it ought to
have done it would have taken us to where we
wanted to go ; of that I am convinced. Even
as it was J would have continued to use this gift

223

Th r e e Men on JFb eels

of mine to discover a fresh way had a proper
spirit been displayed toward me. But I am not
an angel ; I admit this frankly ; and I decline to
exert myself for the ungrateful and the ribald.
Therefore it was that I washed my hands of the
affair and Harris entered upon the vacancy.

" Well," said Harris, " I suppose you are
satisfied with what you have done ? "

" I am quite satisfied," I replied from the heap
of stones where I was sitting. " So far I have
brought you with safety. For all you know, you
may be just where you want to be."

" Do not misunderstand us," said Harris.
" Both George and myself feel that without your
assistance we should never be where we now are.
For that we give you every credit. But instinct
is liable to err. What I propose to do is to sub-
stitute for it Science, which is exact."

" Don't you think," said George, cc that if we
made our way back to the village and hired a boy
for a mark to guide us it would save time in the
end?"

" It would be wasting hours," replied Harris
with decision. "You leave this to me." He
took out his watch and began turning himself
round and round.

"It's as simple as A B C," he continued.
" You point the short hand at the sun ; then you
bisect the segment between the short hand and
the twelve ; and thus you get the north."

224

" Began turning himself round and round"

Lost in the Black Forest

He worried up and down for a while, then he
fixed it.

" Now I 've got it," he said ; " that 's the
north. Now give me the map."

We handed it to him and he examined it.

" Todtmoos, from here," he said, " is south by
southwest."

" How do you mean c from here ' ? " asked
George.

" Why, from here, where we are," returned
Harris.

" But where are we ? " said George.

This worried Harris for a time.

" It does n't matter where we are," he said at
length ; " wherever we are, Todtmoos is south by
southwest. Come on, we are only wasting time."

" I don't quite see how you make it out," said
George, as he arose and shouldered his knapsack ;
" but I suppose it does n't matter. We are out
for our health."

"We shall be all right," said Harris with
cheery confidence. " We shall be in at Todt-
moos before ten, don't you worry. And at
Todtmoos we will have something to eat."

He said that he himself fancied a beefsteak,
followed by an omelette. George said that per-
sonally he intended to keep his mind off the
subject until he saw Todtmoos.

We walked for half an hour, then, emerging
upon an opening, we saw below us about two
15 225

Three Men on Wheels

miles away the village through which we had
passed that morning. It had a quaint church
with an outside staircase ; a somewhat unusual
arrangement.

The sight of it made me sad. We had been
walking hard for three hours and a half, and had
accomplished, apparently, about four miles. But
Harris was delighted.

" Now, at last," said Harris, " we know where
we are."

" I thought you said it did n't matter," George
reminded him.

£C No more it does, practically," replied Harris,
" but it is just as well to be certain. Now I feel
more confidence in myself."

" I 'm not so sure about that being an advan-
tage," murmured George. But I do not think
Harris heard him.

"We are now," continued Harris, "east of the
sun, and Todtmoos is southwest of where we are.
So that if "

He broke off. "By the by," he said, " do you
remember whether I said the bisecting line of that
segment pointed to the north or to the south ? "

"You said it pointed to the north," replied
George.

" Are you positive ? " persisted Harris.

" Positive," answered George ; " but don't let
that influence your calculations. In all probabil-
ity you were wrong."

226

Lost in the Black Forest

Harris thought for a while ; then his brow
cleared.

"That's all right," he said; "of course it's
the north. It must be the north. How could it
be the south ? Now we must make for the west.
Come on."

" I am quite willing to make for the west," said
George ; " any point of the compass is the same
to me. I only wish to remark that at the present
moment we are going dead east."

"No, we are not," returned Harris; "we are
going west."

" We are going east, I tell you," said George.

" I wish you would n't keep saying that," said
Harris ; " you confuse me."

" I don't mind if I do," returned George ; " I
would rather do that than go wrong. I tell you
we are going dead east."

" What nonsense ! " retorted Harris. " There's
the sun."

" I can see the sun," answered George, " quite
distinctly. It may be where it ought to be ac-
cording to you and science, or it may not. All I
know is, that when we were down in the village
that particular hill with that particular lump of
rock upon it was due north of us. At the pres-
ent moment we are facing due east."

" You are quite right," said Harris ; " I forgot
for a moment that we had turned around."

" I should get into the habit of making a note
227

Th r e e Men on ffih eels

of it if I were you/' grumbled George ; " it 's a
manoeuvre that will probably occur again more
than once."

We faced about and walked in the other direc-
tion. At the end of forty minutes' climbing we
again emerged upon an opening, and again the
village lay just under our feet. On this occasion
it was south of us.

" This is very extraordinary," said Harris.

" I see nothing remarkable about it," said
George. "If you walk steadily around a village
it is only natural that now and then you get a
glimpse of it. As for myself, I am glad to see
it. It proves to me that we are not utterly
lost."

" It ought to be the other side of us," said
Harris.

" It will be in another hour or so," said George,
" if we keep on."

I said little myself; I was vexed with both of
them ; but I was glad to notice George evidently
growing cross with Harris. It was absurd of
Harris to fancy he could find the way by the sun.

" I wish I knew," said Harris thoughtfully,
" for certain whether that bisecting line points to
the north or to the south."

" I should make up my mind about it," said
George ; " it 's an important point."

"It's impossible it can be the north," said
Harris, " and I '11 tell you why."

228

Lost in the Black Forest

" You need n't trouble," said George ; " I am
quite prepared to believe it is n't."

" ' This is the best view we 've had of it as yet ' '

"You said just now it was," said Harris re-
proachfully.

" I said nothing of the sort," retorted George ;
" I said you said it was ; a very different thing.

229

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

If you think it is n't, let 's go the other way.
It'll be a change, at all events."

So Harris worked things out according to the
contrary calculation, and again we plunged into
the wood; and again after half an hour's stiff
climbing we came in view of that same village.
True, we were a little higher, and this time it lay
between us and the sun.

" I think," said George, as he stood looking
down at it, " this is the best view we Ve had of it
as yet. There is only one other point from which
we can see it. After that, I propose we go down
into it and get some rest."

" I don't believe it 's the same village," said
Harris; "it can't be."

"There's no mistaking that church," said
George. " But maybe it is a case on all fours
with that Prague statue. Possibly the authorities
hereabouts have had made some life-sized models
of that village and have stuck them about the
Forest to see where the thing would look best.
Anyhow, which way do we go now ? "

"I don't know," said Harris, "and I don't
care. I have done my best; you 've done noth-
ing but grumble and confuse me."

"I may have been critical," admitted George,
"but look at the thing from my point of view.
One of you says he 's got an instinct, and leads
me to a wasp's nest in the middle of a
wood."

230

Lost in the Black Forest

" I can't help wasps building in a wood/' I
replied.

" I don't say you can," answered George. " I
am not arguing ; I am merely stating incontro-
vertible facts. The other one, who leads me up
and down hill for hours on scientific principles,
does n't know the north from the south, and is
never quite sure whether he's turned around or
whether he hasn't. Personally, I profess to no
instincts beyond the ordinary, nor am I a scientist.
But two fields off I can see a man. I am going
to offer him the worth of the hay he is cutting,
which I estimate at one mark fifty pfennig, to
leave his work and lead me to within sight of
Todtmoos. If you two fellows like to follow,
you can. If not, you can start another system
and work it out by yourselves."

George's plan lacked both originality and
aplomb, but at the moment it appealed to us.
Fortunately we had worked around to a very
short distance away from the spot where we had
originally gone wrong, with the result that, aided
by the gentleman of the scythe, we recovered the
road and reached Todtmoos four hours later than
we had calculated to reach it, with an appetite
that took forty-five minutes' steady work in
silence to abate.

From Todtmoos we had intended to walk
down to the Rhine, but having regard to our
extra exertions of the morning we decided to

231

Th r e e Me n o n Wh eel

promenade in a carriage, as the French would
say, and for this purpose hired a picturesque-
looking vehicle, drawn by a horse that I should
have called barrel-bodied but for contrast with
his driver, in comparison with whom he was
angular. In Germany every vehicle is arranged
for a pair of horses, but drawn generally by one.
This gives to the equipage a lop-sided appear-
ance, according to our notions; but it is held
here to indicate style. The idea to be conveyed
is that you usually drive a pair of horses, but that
for the moment you have mislaid the other one.
The German driver is not what we should call a
first-class whip. He is at his best when he is
asleep. Then, at all events, he is harmless; and
the horse being, generally speaking, intelligent
and experienced, progress under these conditions
is comparatively safe. If in Germany they could
only train the horse to collect the money at the
end of the journey there would be no need for a
coachman at all. This would be a distinct relief
to the passenger, for when the German coachman
is awake and not cracking his whip he is generally
occupied in getting himself into trouble or out
of it. He is better at the former. Once I
recollect driving down a steep Black Forest hill
with a couple of ladies. It was one of those
roads winding corkscrew-wise down the slope.
The hill arose at an angle of seventy-five on the
off side, and fell away at an angle of seventy-five

232

Lost in the Black Forest

on the near side. We were proceeding very
comfortably, the driver, we were happy to notice,
with his eyes shut, when suddenly something —
a bad dream or indigestion — awoke him. He
seized the reins, and by an adroit movement
pulled the near horse over the side, where it
clung, half supported by the traces. Our driver
did not appear in the least annoyed or surprised;
both horses, I also noticed, seemed equally used
to the situation. We got out and he got down.
He took from under the seat a huge clasp-knife,
evidently kept there for the purpose, and deftly
cut the traces. The horse thus released rolled
over and over until he struck the road again,
some fifty feet below. There he regained his
footing and stood waiting for us. We reentered
the carriage and descended with the single horse
until we came to him. There, with the help of
some bits of string, our driver harnessed him
again and we continued on our way. What im-
pressed me was the evident accustomedness of
both driver and horses to this method of pro-
ceeding down a hill. Evidently to them it
appeared a short and convenient cut. I should
not have been surprised had the man suggested
our strapping ourselves in, and then rolling over
and over, carriage and all, to the bottom.

Another peculiarity of the German coachman
is that he never attempts to pull in or to pull
up. He regulates his rate of speed not by the

233

Three Men on Wheels

pace of the horse, but by manipulation of the
brake. For eight miles an hour he puts it on
slightly, so that it only scrapes the wheel, pro-
ducing a continuous sound as of the sharpening
of a saw ; for four miles an hour he screws it
down harder, and you travel to an accompani-
ment of groans and shrieks, suggestive of a sym-
phony of dying pigs. When he desires to come
to a full stop he puts it on to its full. If
his brake be a good one, he calculates he can
stop his carriage, unless the horse be an extra
powerful animal, in less than twice its own
length.

At Waldshut, one of those little sixteenth-cen-
tury towns through which the Rhine flows during
its earlier course, we came across that exceedingly
common object of the Continent : the travelling
Briton grieved and surprised at the unacquaint-
ance of the foreigner with the subtleties of the
English language. When we entered the station
he was, in very fair English, though with a slight
Somersetshire accent, explaining to a porter for
the tenth time, as he informed us, the simple
fact that though he himself had a ticket for
Donaueschingen, and wanted to go to Donaue-
schingen to see the source of the Danube, which
is not there, though they tell you it is, he wished
his bicycle to be sent on to Engen and his bag
to Constance, there to await his arrival. He was
hot and angry with the effort of the thing. The

234

Lost in the Black Forest

.

porter was a young man in years, but at the
moment looked old and miserable. I offered
my services. I wish now I had not, though not
so fervently, I expect, as he came subsequently to
wish this. All three routes, so the porter ex-
plained to us, were complicated, necessitating
changing and rechanging. There was not much
time for calm elucidation, as our own train was
starting in a few minutes. The man himself was
voluble — always a mistake when anything en-
tangled has to be made clear; while the porter
was only too eager to get the job done with
and so breathe again. It dawned upon me ten
minutes later, when thinking the matter over in
the train, that though I had agreed with the
porter that it would be best for the bicycle to go
by way of Immendingen, and had agreed to his
booking it to Immendingen, I had neglected to
give instructions for its departure from Immen-
dingen. Were I of a despondent temperament
I should be worrying myself at the present
moment with the reflection that in all probability
that bicycle is still at Immendingen. Possibly
the porter corrected my omission on his own
account, or some simple miracle may have hap-
pened to restore that bicycle to its owner some
time before the end of his tour. The bag we
sent to Radolfzell ; but here I console myself
with the recollection that it was labelled Con-
stance ; and no doubt the railway authorities,

235

Th r e e Men on fFb eels

finding it unclaimed at Rodolfzell, forwarded it
on to Constance.

But all this is apart from the moral I wished
to draw from the incident. The true inwardness
of the situation lay in the indignation of this
Britisher at finding a German railway porter
unable to comprehend English. The moment
we spoke to him he expressed this indignation.

" Thank you very much indeed," he said ;
"it's simple enough. I want to go to Donaue-
schingen myself by train ; from Donaueschingen
I am going to walk to Geisengen; from Geisen-
gen I am going to take the train to Engen, and
from Engen I am going to bicycle to Constance.
But I don't want to take my bag with me ; I
want to find it at Constance when I get there.
I have been trying to explain the thing to this
fool for the last ten minutes ; but I can't get it
into him."

" It is very disgraceful," I agreed. " Some of
these German workmen know hardly any lan-
guage but their own."

" I have gone over it with him," continued
the man, " on the time table, and explained it
by pantomime. Even then I could not knock
it into him."

" I can hardly believe you," I again remarked;
" you would think the thing explained itself."

Harris was angry with the man ; he wished to
reprove him for his folly in journeying through

236

Lost in the Black Forest

the outlying portions of a foreign clime, and
seeking in such to accomplish complicated rail-
way tricks without knowing a word of the lan-
guage of the country. But I pointed out to him
the great and good work at which the man was
unconsciously assisting.

Shakespeare and Milton may have done their
little best to spread acquaintance with the Eng-
lish tongue among the less favoured inhabitants
of Europe. Newton and Darwin may have ren-
dered their language a necessity among educated
and thoughtful foreigners. Dickens and Ouida
(for your folk who imagine that the literary
world is bounded by the prejudices of New Grub
Street would be surprised and grieved at the
position occupied abroad by this at-home-sneered-
at Lady) may have helped still further to popu-
larize it. But the man who has spread the
knowledge of English from Cape St. Vincent to
the Ural Mountains is the Englishman who,
unable or unwilling to learn a single word of any
language but his own, travels purse in hand into
every corner of the Continent. One may be
shocked at his ignorance, annoyed at his stupidity,
angry at his presumption, but the practical fact
remains : he it is that is anglicising Europe.
For him the Swiss peasant tramps through the
snow on winter evenings to attend the English
class open in every village. For him the coach-
man and the guard, the chambermaid and the

237

Th r e e Men on W^h eels

laundress, pore over their English grammars and
colloquial phrase books. For him the foreign
shopkeeper and merchant send their sons and
daughters in their thousands to study in every
English town. For him it is that every foreign
hotel and restaurant keeper adds to his adver-
tisement : " Only those with fair knowledge of
English need apply."

Did the English-speaking races make it their
rule to speak anything else than English the mar-
vellous progress of the English tongue through-
out the world would stop. The English-speaking
man stands amid the strangers and jingles his
gold. " Here," he cries, " is payment for all
such as can speak English." He it is who is
the great educator. Theoretically, we may scold
him ; practically, we should take our hats off to
him. He is the missionary of the English
tongue.

238

XII.— THE SLAVE OF THE
BRICK

A THING that vexes much the high-
class Anglo-Saxon soul is the earthly
instinct prompting the German to
fix a restaurant at the goal of every
excursion. On mountain summit,
in fairy glen, on lonely pass, by waterfall or
winding stream, stands ever the busy Wirtschaft.
How can one rhapsodize over a view when sur-
rounded by beer-stained tables ? How lose one's
self in historical reverie amid the odour of roast
veal and spinach?

One day, on elevating thoughts intent, we
climbed through tangled woods.

" And at the top," said Harris bitterly, as we
paused to breathe a space and pull our belts a
hole tighter, " there will be a gaudy restaurant,
where people will be guzzling beefsteaks and
plum tarts, and drinking white wine."
" Do you really think so ? " said George.
" Sure to be," answered Harris ; " you know
their way. Not one grove will they consent to
dedicate to solitude and contemplation. Not
one height will they leave to the lover of Nature
unpolluted by the gross and the material."

239

Th r e e Men on Wh eel

" I calculate," I remarked, " that we shall be
there a little before one o'clock, provided we
don't dawdle."

"The c Mittagstisch ' will be just ready,"
groaned Harris, " with possibly some of those
little blue trout they catch about here. In Ger-
many one never seems able to get away from
food and drink. It is maddening ! "

We pushed on, and in the beauty of the walk
forgot our indignation. My estimate proved to
be correct. At quarter to one, said Harris, who
was leading :

" Here we are ; I can see the summit."

" Any sign of that restaurant ? "asked George.

" I don't notice it," replied Harris, "but it 's
there, you may be sure ; confound it ! "

Five minutes later we stood upon the top.
We looked north, south, east and west ; then
we looked at one another.

" Grand view, is n't it ? " exclaimed Harris.

" Magnificent ! " I agreed.

" Superb ! " remarked George.

"They have had the good sense for once,"
added Harris, " to put that restaurant out of
sight."

" They do seem to have hidden it," said
George.

cc One does n't mind the thing so much
when it is not forced under one 's nose," said

Harris.

240

The Slave of the Brick

" Of course, in its place," I observed, " a res-
taurant is right enough."

" I should like to know where they have put
it," said George.

" Suppose we look for it," said Harris, with
inspiration.

It seemed a good suggestion. I felt curious
myself. We agreed to explore in different di-
rections, returning to the summit to report
progress. In half an hour we stood together
once again. There was no need for words.
The face of one and all of us announced plainly
that at last we had discovered a recess of German
nature untarnished by the sordid suggestion of
food or drink.

" I should never have believed it possible,"
said Harris ; " would you ? "

"I should say," I replied, "that this is the
only square quarter of a mile in the entire Father-
land unprovided with one."

" And we three strangers have struck it," said
George, cc without an effort."

" True," I observed ; " by pure good fortune
we are now enabled to feast our finer senses
undisturbed by appeal to our lower nature.
Observe the light upon those distant peaks; is
it not ravishing ? "

" Talking of Nature," said George, " which
should you say was the nearest way down ? "

" The road to the left," I replied, after con-

16 241

Th r e e Me n o n Wh eels

suiting the guide-book, " takes us to Sonnensteig
— where, by the by, I observe the Golden Adler
is well spoken of — in about two hours. The
road to the right, though somewhat longer, com-
mands more extensive prospects."

"One prospect," observed Harris, "is very
much like another prospect ; don't you think
so?"

" Personally," said George, " I am going by
the left-hand road." And Harris and I went
after him.

But we were not to get down so soon as we
had anticipated. Storms come quickly in these
regions, and before we had walked for quarter of
an hour it became a question of seeking shelter
or living for the rest of the day in soaked clothes.
We decided on the former alternative, and
selected a tree that under ordinary circumstances
should have been ample protection. But a
Black Forest thunderstorm is not an ordinary
circumstance. We consoled ourselves at first
by telling each other that at such rate it could
not last long. Next, we endeavoured to com-
fort ourselves with the reflection that if it
did we should soon be too wet to fear getting
wetter.

" As it has turned out," said Harris, " I should
have been almost glad if there had been a restau-
rant up here."

" I see no advantage in being both wet and
242

I f-S

Won't you come inside ? ':

The Slave of the Brick

hungry," said George. " I shall give it another
five minutes, then I am going on."

" These mountain solitudes," I remarked,
" are very attractive in fine weather. On a rainy
day, especially if you happen to be past the age
when — "

At this point there hailed us a voice, proceed-
ing from a stout gentleman who stood some fifty
feet away from us, under a big umbrella.

" Won't you come inside ? " asked the stout
gentleman.

"Inside where?" I called back. I thought
at first he was one of those fools that will try
to be funny when there is nothing to be funny
about.

" Inside the restaurant," he answered.

We left our shelter and made for him. We
• wished for further information about this thing.

" I did call to you from the window," said the
stout gentleman, as we drew near to him, " but
I suppose you did not hear me. This storm
may last for another hour ; you will get so wet."
He was a kindly old gentleman ; he seemed
quite anxious about us.

I said : cc It was very kind of you to come out.
We are not lunatics. We have not been stand-
ing under that tree for the last half-hour know-
ing all the time there was a restaurant within
twenty yards of us. We had no idea we were
anywhere near a restaurant."

243

Th r e e Men on Wh eels

" I thought maybe you had n't," said the old
gentleman ; " that is why I came out."

It appeared that all the people in the inn had
been watching us from the windows also, wonder-
ing why we stood there looking miserable. If it
had not been for this nice old gentleman the fools
would have stood watching us, I suppose, for the
rest of the afternoon. The landlord excused
himself by saying he thought we looked Eng-
lish. It is no figure of speech : on the Conti-
nent they do sincerely believe that every English-
man is mad. They are as convinced of it as is
every English peasant that Frenchmen live on
frogs. Even when one makes a direct personal
effort to disabuse them of the impression one is
not always successful.

It was a comfortable little restaurant, where
they cooked well, while the Tischwein was really
most passable. We stopped there for a couple
of hours, and dried ourselves, and fed ourselves,
and talked about the view ; and, just before we
left, an incident occurred that shows how much
more stirring in this world are the influences of
evil as compared with those of good.

A traveller entered. He seemed a careworn
man. He carried a brick in his hand, tied to a
piece of rope. He entered nervously and hur-
riedly; closed the door carefully behind him;
saw to it that it was fastened ; peered out of the
window long and earnestly ; and then, with a sigh

244

Tb e Slave of the Brick

of relief, laid his brick upon the bench beside
him and called for food and drink.

" He carried a brick in his hand"

There was something mysterious about the
whole affair. One wondered what he was go-

245

Th r e e Men on W h eels

ing to do with the brick ; why he had closed the
door so carefully ; why he had looked so anx-
iously from the window. But his aspect was
too wretched to invite conversation, and we fore-
bore, therefore, to ask him questions. As he ate
and drank he grew more cheerful ; sighed less
often. Later, he stretched his legs, lit an evil-
smelling cigar, and puffed in calm contentment.
Then it happened. It happened too suddenly
for any detailed conception of the thing to be
possible. I recollect a Fraulein entering the
room from the kitchen with a pan in her hand.
I saw her cross to the outer door. The next
moment the whole room was in an uproar. One
was reminded of those pantomime transformation
scenes where from among floating clouds, slow
music, waving flowers and reclining fairies one is
suddenly transported into the midst of shouting
policemen tumbling over yelling babies, swells
righting pantaloons, sausages and harlequins, but-
tered slides, and clowns. As the Fraulein of the
pan touched the door it flew open as though all
the spirits of sin had been pressed against it, wait-
ing. Two pigs and a chicken rushed into the
room ; a cat that had been sleeping on a beer
barrel' spluttered into fiery life. The Fraulein
threw her pan into the air and lay down on the
floor. The gentleman with the brick sprang to
his feet, upsetting the table before him, with every-
thing upon it.

246

The Slave of the Brick

One looked to see the cause of this disaster ;
one discovered it at once in the person of a
mongrel terrier with pointed ears and a squirrel's
tail. The landlord rushed out from another
door, and attempted to kick him out of the
room. Instead, he kicked one of the pigs, the
fatter of the two. It was a vigorous, well-planted
kick, and the pig got the whole of it : none of it
was wasted. One felt sorry for the poor animal,
but no amount of sorrow any one else might feel
for him could compare with the sorrow he felt for
himself. He stopped running about. He sat
down in the middle of the room and appealed to
the solar system generally to observe this unjust
thing that had come upon him. They must have
heard his complaint in the valleys round about
and have wondered what upheaval of Nature was
taking place among the hills.

As for the hen, it scuttled, screaming, every
way at once. It was a marvellous bird ; it seemed
to be able to run up a straight wall quite easily ;
and it and the cat between them fetched down
mostly everything that was not already on the
floor. In less than forty seconds there were nine
people in that room, all trying to kick one
dog. Possibly, now and again, one or another
may have succeeded, for occasionally the dog
would stop barking in order to howl. But
it did not discourage him. Everything has to
be paid for, he evidently argued, even a pig and

247

Th r e e Men on ff^b eels

chicken hunt; and, on the whole, the game was
worth it.

Besides, he had the satisfaction of observing
that for every kick he received most other living
things in the room got two. As for the unfortu-
nate pig — the stationary one, the one that still sat
lamenting in the centre of the room — he must
have averaged a steady four. Trying to kick
this dog was like playing football with a ball that
was never there — not when you went to kick it,
but after you had started to kick it, and had gone
too far to stop yourself, so that the kick had to
go on in any case, your only hope being that
your foot would find something or another solid
to stop it, and so save you from sitting down on
the floor, noisily and completely. When any one
did kick the dog it was by pure accident, when
they were not expecting to kick him, and, gener-
ally speaking, this took them so unawares that
after kicking him they fell over him. And every-
body, every half-minute, would be certain to fall
over the pig — the sitting pig, the one incapable
of getting out of anybody's way.

How long the scrimmage might have lasted
it is impossible to say. It was ended by the
judgment of George. For a while he had
been seeking to catch, not the dog, but the
remaining pig, the one still capable of activity.
Cornering it at last, he persuaded it to cease
running round the room and, instead, to take a

248

The Slave of the Brick

spin outside. It shot through the door with one
long wail.

" Seeking to catch, not the dog, but
the remaining pig "

We always desire the thing we have not. One
pig, a chicken, nine people and a cat were as

249

T'b r e e Men on ffih eels

nothing in that dog's opinion, compared with the
quarry that was disappearing. Unwisely, he
darted after it, and George closed the door upon
him and shot the bolt.

Then the landlord stood up and surveyed all
the things that were lying on the floor.

" That 's a playful dog of yours/' said he to
the man who had come in with the brick.

" He is not my dog," replied the man sullenly.

" Whose dog is it, then ? " said the landlord.

" I don't know whose dog it is," answered the
man.

" That won't do for me, you know," said the
landlord, picking up a picture of the German
Emperor and wiping beer from it with his sleeve.

" I know it won't," replied the man ; " I never
expected it would. I 'm tired of telling people
it is n't my dog. None of them believe me."

" What do you want to go about with him for
if he 's not your dog ? " said the landlord.
" What 's the attraction about him ? "

" I don't go about with him," replied the man ;
" he goes about with me. He picked me up this
morning at ten o'clock and he won't leave me. I
thought I had got rid of him when I came in
here. I left him busy killing a duck more than
a quarter of an hour away. I'll have to pay for
that, I expect, on my way back."

" Have you tried throwing stones at him ? "

asked Harris.

250

The Slave of the Brick

" Have I tried throwing stones at him ! " re-
plied the man contemptuously. " I Ve been
throwing stones at him till my arm aches with
throwing stones ; and he thinks it's a game, and
brings them back to me. I Ve been carrying this
beastly brick about with me for over an hour in
the hope of being able to drown him, but he
never comes near enough for me to get hold of
him. He just sits six inches out of my reach
with his mouth open and looks at me."

" It's the funniest story I Ve heard for a long
while," said the landlord.

" Glad it amuses somebody," said the man.

We left him helping the landlord to pick up
the broken things, and went our way. A dozen
yards outside the door the faithful animal was
waiting for his friend. He looked tired, but
contented. He was evidently a dog of strange
and sudden fancies, and we feared for the moment
lest he might take a liking to us. But he let us
pass with indifference. His loyalty to this unre-
sponsive man was touching ; and we made no
attempt to undermine it.

Having completed to our satisfaction the Black
Forest, we journeyed on our wheels to Miinster,
whence we started a short exploration of the
Vosges range, where, according to the present
German Emperor, humanity stops.

The fruiterer and greengrocer is a person un-
known in the Vosges. Most things of that kind

251

Th r e e M en on Jf^h eels

grow wild, and are to be had for the picking. It
is difficult to keep to any programme when walk-
ing through the Vosges, the temptation on a hot
day to stop and eat fruit generally being too strong
for resistance. Raspberries, the most delicious I
have ever tasted, wild strawberries, currants, and
gooseberries grow upon the hillsides as black-
berries by English lanes. The Vosges small boy
is not called upon to rob an orchard ; he can
make himself ill without sin. Orchards exist in
the Vosges Mountains in plenty ; but to trespass
into one for the purpose of stealing fruit would
be as foolish as for a fish to try and get into a
swimming bath without paying. Still, of course,
mistakes do occur.

One afternoon in the course of a climb we
emerged upon a plateau where we lingered per-
haps too long, eating more fruit than may have
been good for us; it was so plentiful around us,
so varied. We commenced with a few late straw-
berries, and from those we passed to raspberries.
Then Harris found a green-gage tree with some
early fruit upon it, just perfect.

" This is about the best thing we have struck,"
said George ; " we had better make the most
of this." Which was good advice, on the face
of it.

" It is a pity," said Harris, " that the pears are
still so hard."

He grieved about this for a while, but later I
252

The Slave of the Brick

came across some remarkably fine yellow plums,
and these consoled him somewhat.

" I suppose we are still a bit too far north for
pineapples," said George. " I feel I could just
enjoy a fresh pineapple. This commonplace fruit
palls upon one after a while.'*

" Too much bush fruit and not enough tree is
the fault I find," said Harris. " Myself, I should
have liked a few more green-gages."

" Here is a man coming up the hill," I ob-
served, " who looks like a native. Maybe he
will know where we can find some more green-
gages."

" He walks well for an old chap," remarked
Harris.

He certainly was climbing the hill at a remark-
able pace. Also, so far as we were able to judge
at that distance, he appeared to be in a remark-
ably cheerful mood, singing and shouting at the
top of his voice and waving his arms.

"What a merry old soul it is," said Harris;
" it does one good to watch him. But why does
he carry his stick over his shoulder? Why
does n't he use it to help him up the hill ? "

" Do you know, I don't think it is a stick/'
said George.

"What can it be, then? " asked Harris.

" Well, it looks to me," said George, " more
like a gun."

"You don't think we can have made a mis-
253

Th r e e Men on W^h eels

take?" suggested Harris. u You don't think
this can be anything in the nature of a private
orchard?"

I said : " Do you remember the sad thing that
happened in the South of France some two years
ago ? A soldier picked some cherries as he passed
a house, and the French peasant to whom the
cherries belonged came out and without a word
of warning shot him dead."

" But surely you are not allowed to shoot a
man dead for picking fruit, even in France ? "
said George.

" Of course not," I answered. " It was quite
illegal. The only excuse offered by his counsel was
that he was of a highly excitable disposition, and
especially keen about those particular cherries."

" I recollect something about the case," said
Harris, " now you mention it. I believe the dis-
trict in which it happened — the 'Commune/ as
I think it is called — had to pay heavy compen-
sation to the relatives of the deceased soldier,
which was only fair."

George said : " I am tired of this place. Be-
sides, it's getting late."

Harris said : " If he goes at that rate he will
fall and hurt himself. Besides, I don't believe
he knows the way."

I felt lonesome up there all by myself, with
nobody to speak to. Besides, not since I was a
boy, I reflected, had I enjoyed a run down a

254

The Slave of the Brick

really steep hill. I thought I would see if I
could revive the sensation. It is a jerky exercise,
but good, I should say, for the liver.

We slept that night at Barr, a pleasant little
town, on the way to St. Ottilienberg, an interest-
ing old inn among the mountains, where you are
waited upon by real nuns and your bill made out
by a priest. Just before supper a tourist entered.
He looked English, but spoke a language the
like of which I had never heard before. Yet it
was an elegant and fine-sounding language. The
landlord stared at him blankly ; the landlady
shook her head. He sighed, and tried another,
which somehow recalled to me forgotten memo-
ries, though at the time I could not fix it. But
again nobody understood him.

" This is damnable," he said aloud to himself.

" Ah, you are English," exclaimed the landlord.

" And Monsieur looks tired," added the kindly
little landlady ; " Monsieur will have supper."

They both spoke English excellently, nearly as
well as they spoke French and German, and they
bustled about and made him comfortable. At
supper he sat next to me, and I talked to him.

" Tell me," I said — I was curious on the sub-
ject— "what language was it you spoke when
you first came in ? "

" German," he explained. " You did not un-
derstand it ? "

"It must have been my fault," I answered ;
25S

Th r e e Men on IFh eels

" my knowledge is limited. One picks up a little
here and there as one goes about, but of course
that is a different thing."

" But they did not understand it," he replied,
" the landlord and his wife ; and it is their own
language."

" I do not think so," I said. " The children
hereabout speak German, it is true, and our land-
lord and landlady know German to a certain
point. But throughout Alsace and Lorraine the
old people still talk French."

" And I spoke to them in French also," he
added, "and they understood that no better."

"It is certainly very curious," I agreed.

"It is more than curious," he replied ; " in my
case it is incomprehensible. I possess a diploma
for modern languages. I won my scholarship
purely on the strength of my French and Ger-
man. The purity of my pronunciation was con-
sidered at my college to be quite remarkable.
Can you explain it ? "

" I think I can," I replied. " Your pronunci-
ation is too faultless. You remember what the
Scotsman said when for the first time in his life
he tasted real whiskey : c It may be puir, but I
canna drink it' ; so it is with your German. It
strikes one less as a language than as an exhibi-
tion. If I might offer advice, I should say : mis-
pronounce as much as possible, and throw in as
many mistakes as you can."

256

The Slave of the Brick

It is the same everywhere. Each country
keeps a special pronunciation exclusively for the
use of foreigners ; a pronunciation they never
dream of using themselves, that they cannot un-
derstand when it is used.

Putting aside the sufferings of the early martyrs,
few men, I suppose, have gone through more
than I myself went through in trying to attain
the correct pronunciation of the German word
for "church" — " kirche." Long before I had
done with it I had determined never to go to
church in Germany rather than be bothered
with it.

" No, no," my teacher would explain — he was
a painstaking gentleman — "you say it as if it
were spelled k-i-r-c-h-k-e. There is no k. It

is " And he would illustrate to me again,

for the twentieth time that morning.

" You say it from your throat," he would ex-
plain. " I want you to say it from down here,"
and with a fat forefinger he would indicate the
region from where I was to start. After painful
efforts resulting in sounds suggestive of anything
rather than a place of worship, I would excuse
myself.

" I really fear it is impossible," I would say.
" You see, for years I have always talked with
my mouth, as it were ; I never knew a man could
talk with his stomach. I doubt if it is not too
late now for me to learn/*
17 257

XIII. — HOW GERMAN STUDENTS
AMUSE THEMSELVES

BEING wishful to obtain an insight into
the ways of student life (a curiosity
that the courtesy of German friends
enabled us to gratify), we passed
through a German university town.
The English boy plays till he is fifteen, and
works thence till twenty. In Germany it is
the child that works, the young man that plays.
The German boy goes to school at seven o'clock
in the summer, at eight in the winter, and at
school he studies. The result is that at sixteen
he has a thorough knowledge of the classics
and mathematics, knows as much history as any
man compelled to belong to a political party
is wise in knowing, together with a thorough
grounding in modern languages. Therefore his
eight college semesters, extending over four years,
are, except for the young man aiming at a pro-
fessorship, unnecessarily ample. He is not a
sportsman, which is a pity, for he should make
a good one. He plays football a little, bicycles
still less ; plays French billiards in stuffy cafes
more. But generally speaking, he, or the ma-
jority of him, lays out his time bummelling, beer
drinking, and fighting. If he be the son of

258

German Students

a wealthy father he joins a Korps — to belong
to a crack Korps costs about four hundred
pounds a year. If he be a middle-class young
man, he enrolls himself in a Burschenschaft, or
a Landsmannschaft, which is still a little cheaper.
These companies are again broken up into
smaller circles, in which attempt is made to keep
to nationality. There are the Swabians, from
Swabia ; the Frankonians, descendants of the
Franks; the Thuringians, and so forth. In
practice, of course, this results as all such at-
tempts do result ; I believe half our Gordon
Highlanders are Cockneys ; but the picturesque
object is obtained of dividing each university
into some dozen or so separate companies of
students, each one with its distinctive cap and
colours, and, quite as important, its own par-
ticular beer hall, into which no other student
wearing his colours may come.

The chief work of these student companies
is to fight among themselves, or with some rival
Korps or Schaft, the celebrated German Mensur.

The Mensur has been described so often and
so thoroughly that I do not intend to bore my
readers with any detailed account of it. I merely
come forward as an impressionist, and I write
purposely the impression of my first Mensur,
because I believe that first impressions are more
true and useful than opinions blunted by inter-
course or shaped by influence.

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Th r e e Men on Wh eels

A Frenchman or a Spaniard will seek to per-
suade you that the bull ring is an institution got
up chiefly for the benefit of the bull. The horse
which you imagined to be screaming with pain
was only laughing at the comical appearance pre-
sented by his own inside. Your French or
Spanish friend contrasts its glorious and exciting
death in the ring with the cold-blooded brutality
of the knacker's yard. If you do not keep a
tight hold of your head you come away with the
desire to start an agitation for the inception of
the bull ring in England as an aid to chivalry.
No doubt Torquemada was convinced of the
humanity of the Inquisition. To a stout gentle-
man, suffering, perhaps from cramp or rheu-
matism, an hour or so on the rack was really
a physical benefit. He would rise feeling more
free in his joints, more elastic, as one might say,
than he had felt for years. English huntsmen
regard the fox as an animal to be envied. A
day's really excellent sport is provided for him
free of charge, during which he is the centre of
attraction.

Use blinds one to everything one does not
wish to see. Every third German gentleman
you meet in the street still bears, and will bear
to his grave, marks of the twenty to a hundred
duels he has fought in his student days. The
German children play at the Mensur in the
nursery, rehearse it in the gymnasium. The

260

German Students

Germans have come to persuade themselves there
is no brutality in it, nothing offensive, nothing
degrading. Their argument is that it schools the
German youth to coolness and courage. If this
could be proved, the argument, particularly in
a country where every man is a soldier, would
be sufficiently one-sided. But is the virtue of
the prize-fighter the virtue of the soldier ? One
doubts it. Nerve and dash are surely of more
service in the field than a temperament of un-
reasoning indifference as to what is happening
to one. As a matter of fact, the German student
would have to be possessed of much more
courage not to fight. He fights not to please
himself but to satisfy a public opinion that is
two hundred years behind the times.

All the Mensur does is to brutalise him.
There may be skill displayed ; I am told there
is ; but it is not apparent. The mere fighting is
like nothing so much as a broad-sword combat
at a Richardson's show ; the display as a whole
a successful attempt to combine the ludicrous
with the unpleasant. In aristocratic Bonn, where
style is considered, and in Heidelberg, where
visitors from other nations are more common,
the affair is perhaps more formal. I am told
that there the contests take place in handsome
rooms ; that gray-haired doctors wait upon the
wounded, and liveried servants upon the hungry,
and that the affair is conducted throughout with

261

Three Men on Wheels

a certain amount of picturesque ceremony. In
the more essentially German universities, where
strangers are rare and not much encouraged, the
simple essentials are the only things kept in view,
and these are not of an inviting nature.

Indeed, so distinctly uninviting are they that
I strongly advise the sensitive reader to avoid
even this description of them. The subject
cannot be made pretty ; and I do not intend
to try.

The room is bare and sordid ; its walls splashed
with mixed stains of beer, blood, and candle-
grease ; its ceiling, smoky ; its floor, sawdust
covered. A crowd of students, laughing, smok-
ing, talking, some sitting on the floor, others
perched upon chairs and benches, form the
framework.

In the centre, facing one another, stand the
combatants, resembling Japanese warriors as made
familiar to us by the Japanese tea-tray. Quaint
and rigid, with their goggle-covered eyes, their
necks tied up in comforters, their bodies smothered
in what look like dirty bedquilts, their padded
arms stretched straight above their heads, they
might be a pair of ungainly clockwork figures.
The seconds, also more or less padded, their
heads and faces protected by huge leather-peaked
caps, drag them out into their proper position ;
one almost listens to hear the sound of the cas-
tors. The umpire takes his place, the word is

262

" A crowd of students laughing, smoking, talking"

German Students

given, and immediately there follow five rapid
clashes of the long, straight swords. There is

" He fights not to please himself "

no interest in watching the fight. There is no
movement, no skill, no grace. (I am speaking
of my own impressions.) The strongest man
wins — the man who with his heavily padded

263

r e e M en on ffih eel

arm always in an unnatural position can hold his
huge clumsy sword longest without growing too
weak to be able either to guard or to strike.

The whole interest is centred in watching the
wounds. They come always in one of two
places : on the top of the head or the left side
of the face. Sometimes a portion of hairy scalp
or section of cheek flies up into the air, to be
carefully preserved in an envelope by its proud
possessor, or strictly speaking, its proud former
possessor, and shown round on convivial even-
ings ; and from every wound of course flows a
plentiful stream of blood. It splashes doctors,
seconds and spectators ; it sprinkles ceiling and
walls ; it saturates the fighters, and makes pools
for itself in the sawdust. At the end of each
round the doctors rush up, and with hands
already dripping with blood, press together the
gaping wounds, dabbing them with little balls of
wet cotton wool which an attendant carries ready
on a plate. Naturally the moment the men
stand up again and commence work the blood
gushes out again, half blinding them, and render-
ing the ground beneath them slippery. Now
and then you see a man's teeth laid bare almost
to the ear, so that for the rest of the duel he ap-
pears to be grinning at one-half of the spectators,
his other side remaining serious ; and sometimes
a man's nose gets slit, which gives to him as he
fights a singularly supercilious air.

264

German Students

As the object of each student is to go away
from the university bearing as many scars as pos-
sible, I doubt if any particular pains be taken to
guard, even to the small extent such method of
fighting can allow. The real victor is he who
comes out with the greatest number of wounds ;
he who then, stitched and patched almost to un-
recognition as a human being, can promenade for
the next month, the envy of the German youth,
the admiration of the German maiden. He who
obtains only a few unimportant wounds retires
sulky and disappointed.

But the actual fighting is only the beginning
of the fun. The second act of the spectacle takes
place in the dressing-room. The doctors are gen-
erally mere medical students — young fellows,
who, having taken their degree, are anxious for
practice. Truth compels me to say that those
with whom I came in contact were coarse-looking
men who seemed rather to relish their work.
Perhaps they are not to be blamed for this. It
is part of the system that as much further punish-
ment as possible must be inflicted by the doctor,
and the ideal medical man might hardly care for
such job. How the student bears the dressing
of his wounds is as important as how he receives
them. Every operation has to be performed as
brutally as may be, and his companions carefully
watch him during the process to see that he goes
through it with an appearance of peace and enjoy-

265

Three Men on Wheels

ment. A clean-cut wound that gapes wide is
most desired by all parties. On purpose it is
sewn up clumsily, with the hope that by this
means the scar will last a lifetime. Such a wound,
judiciously mauled and interfered with during the
week afterward, can generally be reckoned to
secure its fortunate possessor a wife with a dowry
of five figures at the least.

These are the general bi-weekly Mensurs, of
which the average student fights some dozen a
year. There are others to which visitors are not
admitted. When a student is considered to have
disgraced himself by some slight involuntary
movement of the head or body while fighting,
then he can only regain his position by standing
up to the best swordsman in his Korps. He de-
mands and is accorded, not a contest, but a pun-
ishment. His opponent then proceeds to inflict
as many and as bloody wounds as can be taken.
The object of the victim is to show his comrades
that he can stand still while his head is half sliced
from his skull.

Whether anything can properly be said in
favour of the German Mensur I am doubtful ;
but if it can it concerns only the two combatants.
Upon the spectators, I am convinced, it exercises
nothing but evil. I know myself sufficiently well
to be sure I am not of an unusually bloodthirsty
disposition. The effect it had upon me can only
be the usual effect. At first,, before the actual

266

German Students

work commenced, my sensation was curiosity
mingled with anxiety as to how the sight would
trouble me, though some slight acquaintance with
dissecting rooms and operating tables left me less
doubt on that point than I might otherwise have
felt. As the blood began to flow, and nerves and
muscles to be laid bare, I experienced a mingling
of disgust and pity. But with the second duel, I
must confess, my finer feelings began to disap-
pear ; and by the time the third was well upon
its way, and the room heavy with the curious hot
odour of blood, I began, as the American expres-
sion is, to see things red.

I wanted more. I looked from face to face
surrounding me, and in most of them I found
reflected undoubtedly my own sensations. If it
be a good thing to excite this blood-thirst in the
modern man, then the Mensur is a useful in-
stitution. But is it a good thing? We prate
about our civilization and humanity, but those
of us who do not carry hypocrisy to the length
of self-deception know that underneath our
starched shirts there lurks the savage, with all
his savage instincts untouched. Occasionally he
may be wanted, but we never need fear his dying
out. On the other hand, it seems unwise to
over-nourish him.

In favour of the duel seriously considered there
are many points to be urged. But the Mensur
serves no good purpose whatever. It is child-

267

Th r e e Men on VFh eel

ishness, and the fact of its being a cruel and
brutal game makes it none the less childish.
Wounds have no instrinsic value of their own ;
it is the cause that dignifies them, not their size.
William Tell is rightly one of the heroes of the
world, but what should we think of the members
of a club of fathers, formed with the object of
meeting twice a week to shoot apples from their
sons' heads with cross-bows ? These young
German gentlemen could obtain all the results
of which they are so proud by teasing a wildcat !
To join a club for the mere purpose of getting
yourself hacked about reduces a man to the intel-
lectual level of a dancing Dervish. Travellers
tell us of savages in Central Africa who express
their feelings on festive occasions by jumping
about and slashing themselves. But there is no
need for Europe to imitate them. The Mensur
is, in fact, the reductio ad absurdum of the duel ;
and if the Germans themselves cannot see that it
is funny one can only regret their lack of humour.
But though one may be unable to agree with
the public opinion that supports and commands
the Mensur, it at least is possible to understand.
The university code, that if it does not encourage
at least condones drunkenness, is more difficult
to treat argumentatively. All German students
do not get drunk — in fact, the majority are
sober, if not industrious. But the minority,
whose claim to be representative is freely ad-
268

German Students

mitted, are only saved from perpetual inebriety
by ability, acquired at some cost, to swill half
the day and all the night, while retaining to some
extent their five senses. It does not affect all
alike, but it is common in any university town
to see a young man not yet twenty with the
figure of a Falstaff and the complexion of an
elderly Bacchus. That the German maiden can
be fascinated with a face cut and gashed till it
suggests having been made out of odd materials
that never could have fitted is a proved fact.
But surely there can be no attraction about a
blotched and bloated skin and a " bay window "
thrown out to an extent threatening to overbal-
ance the whole structure. Yet what else can be
expected when the youngster starts his beer-
drinking with a " Fruhschoppen " at ten a. m.
and closes it with a " Kneipe " at four in the
morning ?

The Kneipe is what we should call a stag
party, and can be very harmless or very rowdy
according to its composition. One man invites
his fellow students, a dozen or a hundred, to a
cafe, and provides them with as much beer and
as many cheap cigars as their own sense of health
and comfort may dictate. Or the host may be
the Korps itself. Here, as everywhere, you
observe the German sense of discipline and order.
As each newcomer enters, all those sitting around
the table rise, and, with heels close together,

269

Three Men on W h e e I s

salute. When the table is complete, a Chairman
is chosen, whose duty it is to give out the num-
ber of the songs. Printed books of these songs,
one to each two men, lie around the table. The
Chairman gives out number Twenty-nine. " First
verse," he cries, and away all go, each two men
holding a book between them exactly as two
people might hold a hymn-book in church.
There is a pause at the end of each verse until
the Chairman starts the company on the next.
As every German man is a trained singer, and
as most of them have fair voices, the general
effect is striking.

Although the manner may be suggestive of
the singing of hymns in church, the words of
the songs are occasionally such as to correct this
impression. But whether it be a patriotic song or
a sentimental ballad, all are sung through with
stern earnestness, without a laugh, without a
false note. At the end the Chairman calls
" Prosit! " Every one answers, " Prosit ! " and
the next moment every glass is empty. The
pianist rises and bows, and is bowed to in return ;
and then the Fraulein enters to refill the glasses.

Between the songs, toasts are proposed and
responded to ; but there is little cheering, and
less laughter. Smiles and grave nods of approval
are considered more seeming among German
students.

A special toast called a Salamander, accorded
270

German Students

to some guest as a special distinction, is drunk
with exceptional solemnity.

" With the figure of a Falstaff"

" We will now/' says the Chairman, " a Sala-
mander rub," (" Einen Salamander reiben ").
We all rise and stand like a regiment at attention.

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Th r e e Men on W^h eels

" Is the stuff prepared ? " (" Sind die Stoffe
parat ? ") demands the Chairman.

" Sunt," we answer with one voice.

" Ad exercitium Salamandri," says the Chair-
man, and we are ready.

" Eins ! " We rub our glasses with a circular
motion on the table.

" Zwei ! " Again the glasses growl ; also at
" Drei ! "

" Drink ! " (" Bibite.")

And with mechanical unison every glass is
emptied and held on high.

" Eins ! " says the Chairman. The foot of
every empty glass twirls upon the table, produc-
ing a sound as of the dragging back of a stony
beach by a receding wave.

" Zwei ! " The roll swells and sinks again.

" Drei ! " The glasses strike the table with a
single crash and we are in our seats again.

The sport at the Kneipe is for two students to
insult each other (in play, of course) and to then
challenge each other to a drinking duel. An
umpire is appointed, two huge glasses are filled,
and the men sit opposite each other with their
hands upon the handles, all eyes fixed upon them.
The umpire gives the word to go, and in an
instant the beer is gurgling down their throats.
The man who bangs his perfectly finished glass
upon the table first is victor.

Strangers who are going through a Kneipe, and
272

German Students

who wish to do the thing in German style, will
do well, before commencing proceedings, to pin
their names and address upon their coats. The
German student is courtesy itself, and whatever
his own state may be, he will see to it that, by
some means or another, his guest gets safely
home before the morning. But of course he
cannot be expected to remember addresses.

A story was told me of three guests to a Berlin
Kneipe which might have had tragic results.
The strangers determined to do the thing
thoroughly. They explained their intention, and
were applauded, and each proceeded to write his
address upon his card and pin it to the tablecloth
in front of him. That was the mistake they
made. They should, as I have advised, have
pinned it carefully to their coats. A man may
change his place at a table ; quite unconsciously
he may come out the other side of it ; but
wherever he goes he takes his coat with him.

Some time in the small hours the Chairman
suggested that to make things more comfortable
for those still upright all the gentlemen unable to
keep their heads off the table should be sent
home. Among those to whom the proceedings
had become uninteresting were the three English-
men. It was decided to put them into a cab in
charge of a comparatively speaking sober student,
and return them. Had they retained their
original seats throughout the evening all would
18 273

Tb r e e Men on Wh eels

have been well ; but, unfortunately, they had gone
walking about, and which gentleman belonged to
which card nobody knew ; least of all the guests
themselves. In the then state of general cheer-
fulness this did not to anybody appear to much
matter. There were three gentlemen and three
addresses. I suppose the idea was that even if a
mistake were made the parties could be sorted
out in the morning. Anyhow, the three gentle-
men were put into a cab, the comparatively
speaking sober student took the three cards in
his hand, and the party started amid the cheers
and good wishes of the company.

There is this advantage about German beer;
it does not make a man drunk as the word drunk
is understood in England. There is nothing
objectionable about him ; he is simply tired.
He does not want to talk ; he wants to be let
alone — to go to sleep ; it does not matter where
— anywhere.

The conductor of the party stopped his cab at
the nearest address. He took out his worst case ;
it was a natural instinct to get rid of that first.
He and the cabman carried it upstairs and rang
the bell of the pension. A sleepy porter answered
it. They carried their burden in and looked for
a place to drop it. A bedroom door happened
to be open ; the room was empty ; could anything
be better ? They took it in there. They relieved
it of such few things as came off easily and laid it

274

German Students

in the bed. This done, both men, pleased with
themselves, returned to the cab.

At the next address they stopped again. This
time in answer to their summons a lady appeared,
dressed in a tea-gown, with a book in her hand.
The German student looked at the top one of the
two cards still remaining in his hand and inquired
if he had the pleasure of addressing Frau Y. It
happened that he had, though so far as any
pleasure was concerned that appeared to be
entirely on his side. He explained to Frau Y.
that the gentleman at that moment asleep against
the wall was her husband. The reunion moved
her to no enthusiasm ; she simply opened the bed-
room door and then walked away. The cabman
and the student took him in and laid him on the
bed. They did not trouble to undress him; they
were feeling tired ! They did not see the lady of the
house again, and retired therefore without adieus.

The last card was that of a bachelor, stopping
at a hotel. They took their last man, therefore,
to that hotel, passed him over to the night porter,
and left him.

To return to the address at which the first
delivery was made, what had happened there was
this : Some eight hours previously had said Mr.
X. to Mrs. X. :

" I think I told you, my dear, that I had an
invitation for this evening to what I believe is
called a Kneipe ? "

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Three Men on Wheels

" You did mention something of the sort," re-
plied Mrs. X. " What is a Kneipe ? "

" Well, it 's a sort of bachelor party, my dear,
where the students meet to sing and talk and —
and smoke, and all that sort of thing, you know."

" Oh, well, I hope you will enjoy yourself,"
said Mrs. X., who was a nice woman and sensible.

" It will be interesting," observed Mr. X. " I
have often had a curiosity to see one. I may,"
continued Mr. X., " I mean it is possible that I
may be home a little late."

" What do you call late ? " asked Mrs. X.

" It is somewhat difficult to say," returned Mr.
X. " You see, these students, they are a wild lot,

and when they get together And then I

believe a good many toasts are drunk. I don't
know how it will affect me. If I can see an op-
portunity I shall come away early — that is, if I
can do so without giving offence ; but if not "

Said Mrs. X., who, as I have remarked before,
was a sensible woman : " You had better get the
people here to lend you a latch key. I shall
sleep with Dolly, and then you won't disturb me
whatever time it may be."

" I think that an excellent idea of yours,"
agreed Mr. X. ; "I should hate disturbing you.
I shall just come in quietly, and slip into bed."

Some time in the middle of the night, or maybe
toward the early morning, Dolly, who was Mrs.
X.'s sister, sat up in bed and listened.

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German Students

" Jenny/' said Dolly, " are you awake ? "

"Yes, dear," answered Mrs. X. "It's all
right ; you go to sleep again."

"But whatever is it?" asked Dolly. "Do
you think it's fire?"

" I expect," replied Mrs. X., " that it 's Percy.
Very possibly he has stumbled over something in
the dark. Don't you worry, dear; you go to
sleep."

But so soon as Dolly had dozed off again,
Mrs. X., who was a good wife, thought she would
steal out softly and see to it that Percy was all
right. So putting on a dressing-gown and slip-
pers, she crept along the passage and into her
own room. To awake the gentleman on the bed
would have required an earthquake. She lit a
candle and stole over to the bedside.

It was not Percy ; it was not any one like
Percy. She felt it was not tr;e man that ever
could have been her husband under any circum-
stances. In his present condition her sentiment
toward him was that of positive dislike. Her
only desire was to get rid of him.

But something there was about him seemed
familiar to her. She went nearer, and took a
closer view. Then she remembered. Surely it
was Mr. Y., a gentleman at whose flat she and
Percy had dined the first day they arrived in
Berlin.

But what was he doing here ? She put the
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Th r e e Men on Wh eels

candle on the table, and taking her head between
her hands, sat down to think. The explanation
of the thing came to her with a rush. It was
with this Mr. Y. that Percy had gone to the
Kneipe. A mistake had been made. Mr. Y.
had been brought back to Percy's address ; Percy
at this very moment -

The terrible possibilities of the situation swam
before her. Returning to Dolly's room, she
dressed herself hastily and silently crept down-
stairs. Finding, fortunately, a passing night cab,
she drove to the address of Mrs. Y. Telling the
man to wait, she flew upstairs and rang persist-
ently at the bell. The door was opened as before
by Mrs. Y., still in her tea-gown, and with her
book still in her hand.

" Mrs. X. ! " exclaimed Mrs. Y. " Whatever
brings you here ? "

" My husband ! " was all poor Mrs. X. could
think to say at the moment ; " is he here ? "

"Mrs. X.," returned Mrs. Y., drawing herself
up to her full height, " how dare you ? "

" Oh, please don't misunderstand me," pleaded
Mrs. X. "It's all a terrible mistake. They
must have brought poor Percy here instead of to
our place, I 'm sure they must. Do please look
and see."

" My dear," said Mrs. Y., who was a much
older woman and more motherly, " don't excite
yourself. They brought him here about half an

German Students

hour ago, and to tell you the truth I never looked
at him. He is in here. I don't think they
troubled to take off even his boots. If you keep
cool we will get him downstairs and home without
a soul beyond ourselves being any the wiser."

Indeed, Mrs. Y. seemed quite eager to help
Mrs. X. She pushed open the door, and Mrs.
X. went in. The next moment she came out
with a white, scared face.

" It is n't Percy," she said. " Whatever am I
to do ? "

" I wish you would n't make these mistakes,"
said Mrs. Y., moving to enter the room herself.

Mrs. X. stopped her. " And it is n't your
husband, either."

" Nonsense," said Mrs. Y.

" It is n't, really," persisted Mrs. X. " I know
because I have just left him asleep on Percy's
bed."

" What 's he doing there ? " thundered Mrs. Y.

" They brought him there and put him there,"
explained Mrs. X., beginning to cry. " That 's
what made me think Percy must be here."

The two women stood and looked at one an-
other ; and there was silence for awhile, broken
only by the snoring of the gentleman the other
side of the half-open door.

" Then who is that in there ? " demanded Mrs.
Y., who was the first to recover herself.

" I don't know," answered Mrs. X. " I have
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Th r e e Men on W h eels

never seen him before. Do you think it is any-
body you know ? "

But Mrs. Y. only banged to the door.

" What are we to do ? " said Mrs. X.

" I know what / am going to do," said Mrs.
Y. " I 'm coming back with you to fetch my
husband."

" He *s very sleepy," explained Mrs. X.

" I Ve known him to be that before," replied
Mrs. Y., as she fastened her cloak.

" But where *s Percy ? " sobbed poor little
Mrs. X., as they descended the stairs together.

" That, my dear," said Mrs. Y., " will be a
question for you to ask him"

" If they go about making mistakes like this,"
said Mrs. X., "it's impossible to say what they
may not have done with him ! "

" We will make inquiries in the morning, my
dear," said Mrs. Y. consolingly.

" I think these Kneipes are disgraceful affairs,"
said Mrs. X. " I shall never let Percy go to
another, never — so long as I live."

" My dear," remarked Mrs. Y., " if you know
your duty he will never want to." And rumour
has it that he never did.

But as I have said, the mistake was in pin-
ning the card to the tablecloth instead of to the
coat. And error in this world is always severely
punished.

280

" We were in the garden of the Kaiser Hof

XIV. — BACK TO ETHELBERTHA

ANYBODY could rule this country,"
said George ; " I could rule it."
We were seated in the garden of
the Kaiser Hof, at Bonn, looking
down upon the Rhine. It was the
last evening of our Bummel ; the early morning
train would be the beginning of the end.

" I should write down on a piece of paper all
I wanted the people to do," continued George,
"get a good firm to print off so many copies,
have them posted about the towns and villages,
and the thing would be done."

In the placid, docile German of to-day, whose
only ambition appears to be to pay his taxes, and
do what he is told to do by those whom it has
pleased Providence to place in authority over
him, it is difficult, one must confess, to detect
any trace of his wild ancestor to whom individual
liberty was as the breath of his nostrils ; who
appointed his magistrates to advise but retained
the right of execution for the tribe ; who followed
his chief, but would have scorned to obey him.

In Germany to-day one hears a good deal con-
cerning Socialism ; but it is a Socialism that would
only be Despotism under another name. Indi-
vidualism makes no appeal to the German voter,

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Th r e e Men on Jf^b eels

He is willing, nay, anxious, to be controlled and
regulated in all things. He disputes, not gov-
ernment, but the form of it. The policeman is
to him a religion, and one feels will always remain
so. In England we regard our man in blue as a
harmless necessity. By the average citizen he is
employed chiefly as a signpost, though in busy
quarters of the town he is considered useful for
taking old ladies across the road. Beyond feeling
thankful to him for these services, I doubt if we
take much thought of him. In Germany, on
the other hand, he is worshipped as a little god,
and loved as a guardian angel. To the German
child he is a combination of Santa Claus and the
Bogie Man. All good things come from him :
holidays, Spielplatze to play in, furnished with
swings and giant strides, sand heaps to fight
around, swimming baths, and fairs. All mis-
behavior is punished by him. It is the hope
and aim of every well-meaning German boy and
girl to please the police. To be smiled at by a
policeman makes it conceited. A German child
that has been patted on the head by a policeman
is not fit to live with : its self-importance is
unbearable.

The German citizen is a soldier, and the police-
man is his officer. The policeman directs him
where in the street to walk, and how fast to walk.
At the end of each bridge stands a policeman to
tell the German how to cross it. Were there no

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policeman there he would probably sit down and
wait till the river had passed by. At the railway

u He is worshipped as a little god"

station, the policeman locks him up in the wait-
ing-room, where he can do no harm to himself.
When the proper time arrives he fetches him

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Th r e e Men on Wh eels

out and hands him over to the guard of the train,
who is only a policeman in another uniform.
The guard tells him where to sit in the train, and
when to get out, and sees that he does get out.
In Germany you take no responsibility upon
yourself whatever. Everything is done for you,
and done well. You are not supposed to look
after yourself; you are not blamed for being in-
capable of looking after yourself; it is the duty
of the German policeman to look after you.
That you may be a helpless idiot does not excuse
him should anything happen to you. Wherever
you are and whatever you are doing you are in
his charge, and he takes care of you — good care
of you ; there is no denying this.

If you lose yourself, he finds you ; and if you
lose anything belonging to you, he recovers it
for you. If you don't know what you want, he
tells you. If you want anything that is good for
you to have, he gets it for you. Private lawyers
are not needed in Germany. If you want to buy
or sell a house, or field, or dog, the State makes
out the conveyance. If you have been swindled,
the State takes up the case for you. The State
marries you, insures you, will even gamble with
you for a trifle.

"You get yourself born," says the German
Government to the German citizen ; cc we do the
rest. Indoors and out of doors, in sickness and
in health, in pleasure and in work, we will tell

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you what to do, and we will see to it that you
do it. Don't you worry yourself about any-
thing."

And the German does n't. Where there is no
policeman to be found he wanders about till he
comes to a police notice posted on a wall. This
he reads ; then he goes and does what it says.

I remember in one German town — I forget
which ; it is immaterial ; the incident could have
happened in any — noticing an open gate leading
to a garden in which a concert was being given.
There was nothing to prevent any one who chose
from walking through that gate and thus gaining
admittance to the concert without paying. In
fact, of the two gates, quarter of a mile apart, it
was the more convenient. Yet of the crowds
that passed not one attempted to enter by that
gate. They plodded steadily on under a blazing
sun to the other gate, at which a man stood to
collect the entrance money. I have seen German
youngsters stand longingly by the margin of a
lonely sheet of ice. They could have skated on
that ice for hours and nobody have been the
wiser. The crowd and the police were at the
other end, more than half a mile away, and
around the corner. Nothing stopped their go-
ing on but the knowledge that they ought not.
Things such as these make one pause to wonder
seriously whether the Teuton be a member of
the sinful human family or not. Is it not pos-

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Th r e e Me n o n W^h eel

sible that these placid, gentle folk may in reality
be angels, come down to earth for the sake of a
glass of beer, which, as they must know, can only
in Germany be obtained worth the drinking ?

In Germany the country roads are lined with
fruit trees. There is no voice to stay man or
boy from picking and eating the fruit, except
conscience. In England such a state of things
would cause public indignation. Children would
die of cholera by the hundred. The medical
profession would be worked off its legs trying to
cope with the natural results of over-indulgence
in sour apples and unripe walnuts. Public opin-
ion would demand that these fruit trees should
be fenced about, and thus rendered harmless.
Fruit growers, to save themselves the expense of
walls and palings, would not be allowed in this
manner to spread sickness and death throughout
the community.

But in Germany a boy will walk for miles
down a lonely road hedged with fruit trees to
buy a pennyworth of pears in the village at the
other end. To pass these unprotected trees,
drooping under their burden of ripe fruit, strikes
the Anglo-Saxon mind as a wicked waste of
opportunity, a flouting of the blessed gifts of
Providence.

I do not know if it be so, but from what I
have observed of the German character I should
not be surprised to hear that when a man in

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Back to Ethelbertha

Germany is condemned to death he is given a
piece of rope and told to go and hang himself. It
would save the State much trouble and expense,
and I can see that German criminal taking that
piece of rope home with him, reading up carefully
the police instructions, and proceeding to carry
them out in his own back kitchen.

The Germans are a good people — on the
whole the best people, perhaps, morally speaking,
in the world : an amiable, unselfish, kindly peo-
ple. I am positive that the vast majority of them
go to Heaven. Indeed, comparing them with
the other Christian nations of the earth, one is
forced to the conclusion that Heaven will be
chiefly of German manufacture. But I cannot
understand how they get there. That the soul
of any single individual German has sufficient in-
itiative to fly up by itself and knock at St. Peter's
door I cannot believe. My own opinion is that
they are taken there in small companies, and
passed in under the charge of a dead policeman.

Carlyle said of the Prussians (and it is true of
the whole German nation) that one of their chief
virtues was their power of being drilled. Of the
Germans you might say they are a people who
will go anywhere, and do anything — they are
told. Drill a German for the work and send him
out to Africa or Asia under charge of somebody
in uniform, and he is bound to make an excellent
colonist, facing difficulties as he would face the

287

Three Men on Wheels

devil himself, if ordered. But it is hard to con-
ceive of him as a pioneer. Left to run himself,
one feels he would soon fade away and die, not
from any lack of intelligence, but from sheer want
of presumption.

The German has so long been the soldier of
Europe that the military instinct has entered into
his blood. The military virtues he possesses in
abundance. But he also suffers from the draw-
backs'of the military training. It was told me of
a German servant, lately released from the bar-
racks, that he was instructed by his master to de-
liver a letter to a certain house, and to wait there
for the answer. The hours passed by and the
man did not return. His master, anxious and
surprised, followed. He found the man where
he had been sent, the answer in his hand. He
was waiting for further orders. This story
sounds exaggerated, but personally I can credit it.

The curious thing is that the same man, who
as an individual is as helpless as a child, becomes
the moment he puts on a uniform, an intelligent
being, capable of responsibility and initiative.
The German can rule others and be ruled by
others, but he cannot rule himself. The cure
would appear to be to train every German for an
officer and then put him under himself. It is
certain he would order himself about with discre-
tion and judgment, and see to it that he himself
obeyed himself with smartness and precision.

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Back to Ethelbertha

For the direction of German character into
these channels, the schools, of course, are chiefly

a Told to go and hang himself"

responsible. Their everlasting teaching is Duty.
It is a fine ideal for any people ; but before buck-
ling to it, one would wish to have a clear under-
standing as to what this Duty is. The German
19 289

Th r e e Men on W^h eels

idea of it would appear to be : " Blind obedience
to everything in buttons." It is the antithesis of
the Anglo-Saxon scheme, but as both the Anglo-
Saxon and the Teuton are prospering, there must
be help in both methods. Hitherto the German
has had the good fortune to be exceptionally
well governed ; if this continue, it would go well
with him. When his troubles will begin will be
when by any chance something goes wrong with
the governing machine. But maybe his method
has the advantage of producing a continuous
supply of good governors ; it would certainly
seem so.

As a trader, I am inclined to think the German
will, unless his temperament considerably change,
remain always a long way behind his Anglo-Saxon
competitor : and this by reason of his virtues. To
him life is something more important than a mere
race for wealth. A country that closes its banks
and post-offices for two hours in the middle of
the day while it goes home and enjoys a comfort-
able meal in the bosom of its family, with per-
haps forty winks by way of dessert, cannot hope,
and possibly has no wish, to compete with a
people that takes its meals standing, and sleeps
with a telephone over its bed. In Germany
there is not — at all events, as yet — sufficient
distinction between the classes to make the strug-
gle for position the life-and-death affair it is in
England and America. Beyond the landed aris-

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tocracy, whose boundaries are impregnable, grade
hardly counts. Frau Professor and Frau Candle-
stick-maker meet at the weekly Kaffee-Klatsch
and exchange scandal on terms of mutual equal-
ity. The Wirtschaft-keeper and the Doctor hob-
nob together. The wealthy master-builder, when
he prepares his roomy wagon for an excursion
into the country, invites his foreman and his
tailor to join him with their families. Each
brings his share of drink and provisions, and
returning home they sing in chorus the same
songs.

So long as this state of things endures a man is
not induced to sacrifice the best years of his life
to win a fortune for his dotage. His tastes —
and more to the point, still, his wife's — remain
inexpensive. He likes to see his flat or villa fur-
nished with much red plush upholstery and a
profusion of gilt and lacquer. But that is his
idea, and maybe it is in no worse taste than is a
mixture of bastard Elizabethan with imitation
Louis XV., the whole lit by electric light and
smothered with photographs. Possibly he will
have his outer walls painted by the local artist :
a sanguinary battle, a good deal interfered with
by the front door, taking place below, while Bis-
marck, as an angel, flutters vaguely about the bed-
room windows. But for his Old Masters he is
quite content to go to the public galleries ; and,
"the Celebrity at Home" not having as yet

291

Th r e e Men on W h eels

taken its place amongst the institutions of the
Fatherland, he is not impelled to waste his money
turning his house into an old curiosity shop.

The German is a gourmand. There are still
English farmers who, while telling you that farm-
ing spells starvation, enjoy their seven solid meals
a day. Once a year there comes a week's feast
throughout Russia, during which many deaths oc-
cur from the over-eating of pancakes ; but this is
a religious festival and an exception. Taking him
all around, the German as a trencherman stands
preeminent among the nations of the earth. He
rises early, and while dressing tosses off a few
cups of coffee, together with half a dozen hot
buttered rolls. But it is not until ten o'clock
that he sits down to anything that can properly
be called a meal. At one or half-past takes place
his chief dinner. Of this he makes a business,
remaining at it for a couple of hours. At four
o'clock he goes to the cafe, eats cakes and drinks
chocolate. After that he touches nothing for at
least three hours. The evening he devotes to eat-
ing generally ; not a set meal, or rarely, but a
series of snacks : a bottle of beer and a Belegete-
semmel or two at seven, say ; another bottle of
beer and an Aufschnitt at the theatre between the
acts ; a small bottle of white wine and a Spiegeleier
before going home ; then a piece of cheese or
sausage, washed down by more beer, previous to
turning in for the night.

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Back to Ethelbertha

But he is no gourmet. French cooks and
French prices are not the rule at his restaurant.
His beer or his inexpensive native white wine he
prefers to the most costly clarets or champagnes.
And, indeed, it is well for him he does, for one is
inclined to think that every time a French grower
sells a bottle of wine to a German hotel or shop-
keeper Sedan is rankling in his mind. It is a
foolish revenge, seeing that it is not the German
who as a rule drinks it : the punishment falls
upon some innocent travelling Englishman.
Maybe, however, the French dealer remembers
also Waterloo, and feels that in any event he
scores.

In Germany expensive entertainments are nei-
ther offered nor expected. Everything through-
out the Fatherland is homely and friendly. The
German has no costly sports to pay for, no
showy establishments to maintain, no purse-proud
circle to dress for. His chief pleasure, a seat at
the opera or concert, can be had for a few marks ;
and his wife and daughters walk there in home-
made dresses, with shawls over their heads. In-
deed, throughout the country the absence of all
ostentation is to English eyes quite refreshing.
Private carriages are few and far between, and
even the droschke is made use of only when the
quicker and cleaner electric car is not available.

By such means the German retains his inde-
pendence. The shopkeeper in Germany does

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Th r e e Men on Wh eels

not fawn upon his customers. I accompanied
an American lady once on a shopping excursion
in Munich. She had been accustomed to shop-
ping in London and New York, and she grum-
bled at everything the man showed her. It was
not that she was really dissatisfied : this was her
method. She explained that she could get most
things cheaper and better elsewhere ; not that
she really thought she could, merely she held it
good for the shopkeeper to say this. She told
him that his stock lacked taste : she did not
mean to be offensive ; as I have explained, it
was her plan ; that there was no variety about it ;
that it was not up-to-date ; that it was common-
place ; that it looked as if it would not wear.
He did not argue with her ; he did not contradict
her. He put the things back into their respect-
ive boxes, replaced the boxes on their respective
shelves, walked into the little parlor behind the
shop and closed the door.

" Is n't he ever coming back ? " asked the lady,
after a couple of minutes had elapsed. Her
tone did not imply a question so much as an
exclamation of mere impatience.

" I doubt it," I replied.

"Why not ? " she asked, much astonished.

" I expect," I answered, " you have bored
him. In all probability he is at this moment
behind that door smoking a pipe and reading
the paper."

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Back to Ethelbertha

" What an extraordinary shopkeeper ! " said
my friend, as she gathered her parcels together
and indignantly walked out.

"It is their way," I explained. "There are
the goods ; if you want them you can have them.
If you do not want them they would almost rather
that you did not come and talk about them."

On another occasion I listened in the smoke
room of a German hotel to a small Englishman
telling a tale which had I been in his place I
should have kept to myself.

" It does n't do," said the little Englishman,
" to try and beat a German down. They don't
seem to understand it. I saw a first edition of
The Robbers in a shop in the Georg Platz. I
went in and asked the price. It was a rum old
chap behind the counter. He said : c Twenty-
five marks/ and went on reading. I told him I
had seen a better copy only a few days before for
twenty : one talks like that when one is bargain-
ing ; it is understood. He asked me f Where ? '
I told him in a shop at Leipsig. He suggested
my returning there and getting it ; he did not
seem to care whether I bought the book or
whether I did n't. I said :

" c What 's the least you will take for it ? '

" c I have told you once,' he answered ; 'twenty-
five marks.' He was an irritable old chap.

" I said : c It 's not worth it.'

" c I never said it was, did I ? ' he snapped.
29S

Three Men on Wheels

" I said : c I '11 give you ten marks for it.' I
thought, maybe, he would end by taking twenty.

" He arose. I took it he was coming around
the counter to get the book down. Instead, he
came straight up to me. He was a biggish sort
of man. He took me by the two shoulders,
walked me out into the street and closed the
door behind me with a bang. I was never more
surprised in all my life."

" Maybe the book was worth twenty-five
marks," I suggested.

" Of course it was," he replied ; " well worth
it. But what a notion of business ! "

If anything changes the German character it
will be the German woman. She herself is chang-
ing rapidly — advancing, as we call it. Ten
years ago no German woman caring for her repu-
tation, hoping for a husband, would have dared
to ride a bicycle ; to-day they spin about the
country in their thousands. The old folks shake
their heads at them ; but the young men, I notice,
overtake them and ride beside them. Not long
ago it was considered unwomanly in Germany for
a lady to be able to do the outside edge. Her
proper skating attitude was thought to be that of
clinging limpness to some male relative. Now
she practises eights in a corner by herself until
some young man comes along to help her. She
plays tennis, and I have even noticed her, from
a point of safety, driving a dog-cart?

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Back to Ethelbertha

Brilliantly educated she always has been. At
eighteen she speaks two or three languages, and
has forgotten more than the average English-
woman has ever read. Hitherto this education
has been utterly useless to her. On marriage she
has retired into the kitchen and made haste to
clear her brain of everything else in order to leave
room for bad cooking. But suppose it begin to
dawn upon her that a woman need not sacrifice
her whole existence to household drudgery any
more than a man need make himself nothing else
than a business machine. Suppose she develop
an ambition to take part in the social and national
life. Then the influence of such a partner, healthy
in body and therefore vigorous in mind, is bound
to be both lasting and far-reaching.

For it must be borne in mind that the German
man is exceptionally sentimental, and most easily
influenced by his womenfolk. Jt is said of him
he is the best of lovers, the worst of husbands.
This has been the woman's fault. Once married,
the German woman has done more than put
romance behind her : she has taken a carpet-
beater and driven it out of the house. As a girl,
she never understood dressing ; as a wife, she
takes off such clothes even as she had, and pro-
ceeds to wrap herself up in remnants : at all
events, this is the impression she produces. The
figure that might often be that of a Juno, the
complexion that would sometimes do credit to a

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Th r e e Men on Jf^b eels

healthy angel, she proceeds of malice and intent
to spoil. She sells her birthright of admiration
and devotion for a mess of sweets. Every after-
noon you may see her at the cafe, loading herself
with rich cream-covered cakes, washed down by
copious draughts of chocolate. In a short time
she becomes fat, pasty, placid, and utterly unin-
teresting.

When the German woman gives up her after-
noon coffee and her evening beer, takes sufficient
exercise to retain her shape, and continues to read
after marriage something else than the cookery
book, the German Government will find it has
a new and unknown force to deal with. And
everywhere throughout Germany one is confronted
by unmistakable signs that the old German Frauen
are giving place to the newer Damen.

Concerning what will then happen one feels
curious. For the German nation is still young,
and its maturity is of importance to the world.
They are a good people, a lovable people, who
should help much to make the world better.

The worst that, can be said against them is that
they have their failings. They themselves do
not know this ; they consider themselves perfect:
which is foolish of them. They even go so far
as to think themselves superior to the Anglo-
Saxon : this is incomprehensible. One feels they
must be pretending.

"They have their points," said George, "but
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Back to Etbelbertba

their tobacco is a national sin. I 'm going to
bed."

We rose and leaning over the low stone para-
pet, watched the dancing lights upon the soft,
dark river.

" It has been a pleasant Bummel, on the
whole," said Harris. " I shall be glad to get
back, and yet I am sorry it is over ; if you can
understand me."

" What is a Bummel," said George. " How
would you translate it ? "

I thought a moment, listening to the endless
voices of the waters, hurrying onward.

"A Bummel," I explained, " I should describe
as : A journey, long or short, without an end ;
the only thing regulating it being the necessity
of getting back within a given time to the point
from which we started. Sometimes it is through
busy streets, and sometimes through the fields
and lanes ; sometimes we can be spared for only
a few hours and sometimes for a few days. But
long or short, but here or there, our thoughts are
ever on the running of the sand. We nod and
smile to many as we pass ; with some we stop to
talk awhile ; and with a few we walk a little way.
We have been much interested, and often a little
tired. But on the whole, we have had a pleasant
time ; and are sorry when *t is over."

299

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