Looking over some several-days-old papers we observe that the truant
Mr. Bergdoll was discovered at Eberbach in Baden. Well, well, we
meditate, Herr Bergdoll is not wholly devoid of sense, if he is
rambling about that delicious valley of the Neckar. And if we were a
foreign correspondent, anxious to send home to the papers a complete
story of Herr Bergdoll's doings in those parts, we would know
exactly what to do. We would go straight to the excellent Herr
Leutz, proprietor of the _Gasthof zum Ochsen_ in Eberbach, and
listen to his prattle. Herr Leutz, whom we have never forgotten
(since we once spent a night in his inn, companioned by another
vagabond who is now Prof. W.L.G. Williams of Cornell University, so
our clients in Ithaca, if any, can check us up on this fact), is
the most innocently talkative person we have ever met.
A great many Americans have been to Alt Heidelberg, but not so many
have continued their exploration up the Neckarthal. You leave
Heidelberg by the Philosophers' Way (_Philosophenweg_), which looks
over the river and the hills--in this case, lit by a warm July
sunset--and follow (on your bicycle, of course) the road which
skirts the stream. There are many springs of cold water tinkling
down the steep banks on your left, and in the mediæval-looking
village of Hirschhorn you can also sample the excellent beer. The
evening smell of sun-warmed grass and a view of one of those odd
boats grinding its way up-current by hauling a chain from the
river-bed and dropping it again over-stern will do nothing to mar
your exhilaration. It will be getting dark when you reach Eberbach,
and if you find your way to the Ox, Herr Leutz will be waiting (we
hope) in his white coat and gold pince-nez, just as he was in 1912.
And then, as you sit down to a cold supper, he will, deliberately
and in the kindest way, proceed to talk your head off. He will sit
down with you at the table, and every time you think a pause is
coming he will seize a mug, rise to his feet (at which you also will
sadly lay down your tools and rise, too, bowing stiffly from your
hips), and cry: "_Also! ich trinke auf Ihr Wohl!_" Presently,
becoming more assured, the admirable creature abbreviates his
formula to the more companionable "_zum Wohl!_" And as he talks, and
his excitement becomes more and more intense, he edges closer and
closer to you, and leans forward, talking hard, until his dark
beaming phiz quite interposes between your food and its destination.
So that to avoid combing his baldish pate with your fork you must
pass the items of your meal in quite a sideways trajectory. And if,
as happened to our companion (the present Cornell don), you have no
special taste for a plump landlord breathing passionately and
genially upon your very cheek while you strive to satisfy a
legitimate appetite, you may burst into a sudden unpremeditate but
uncontrollable screech of mingled laughter and dismay, meanwhile
almost falling backward in your chair in an effort to evade the
steady pant and roar of those innumerable gutturals.
After supper, a little weary and eager to meditate calmly in the
delicious clear evening, and to look about and see what sort of
place this Eberbach is, you will slip outside the inn for a stroll.
But glorious Herr Leutz is not evadable. He comes with. He takes
position between you two, holding each firmly by an elbow so that no
escape is possible. In a terrific stream of friendliness he explains
everything, particularly expatiating upon the gratification he feels
at being honoured by visitors all the way from America. The hills
around, which stand up darkly against a speckle of stars, are all
discussed for you. One of them is called _Katzenbuckel_, and
doubting that your German may not be able to cope with this quite
simple compound, he proceeds to illustrate. He squats in the middle
of the street, arching his back like a cat in a strong emotion,
uttering lively miaowings and hissings. Then he springs, like the
feline in fury, and leaps to his feet roaring with mirth. "You
see?" he cries. "A cat, who all ready to spring crouches, that is of
our beautiful little mountain the name-likeness."
Yes, if Bergdoll has been staying in Eberbach, the good Herr Leutz
will know all about it.
[Illustration]