The Argosy — page 155: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

149 My First Situation. labelled “‘ Omnibus to Woltersdorf,” was drawn up close to the line, in case any unhappy mortal should wish to ascend into its cavernous interior. I was ushered to its door by an individual, who, to judge from his appearance, did all the dirty work of the station of Fries: and all the clean work for the matter of that, for he was the only living being visible around, with the exception of his dirty little dog who trotted at his heels. Having deposited my luggage on the top, and me in the interior of the vehicle, the Fries man-of-all-work mum- bled some unearthly sounds, whilst his dog looked up and barked. I shall never forget the shaking and the misery of that vehicle of torture, the omnibus between Fries and Woltersdorf ! At last there are twinkling lights in the distance and Woltersdorf comes in sight, with its tall church steeple and square-towered town- hall standing out against the evening sky. ‘‘At last! Here I shall find some friendly face and voice to tell me what to do.” And more dead than alive, I opened the heavy omnibus door and got down the steep steps stiffly, more like ninety than nineteen. The omnibus had stopped at the little post-office to deliver letters, and beneath its orange-coloured lantern: stood the postmaster—burly and full of official dignity. ‘‘ Any carriage here from Graf Dahlen’s?” I managed to say. ‘No, Fraulein,” was the curt reply, accompanied by a long rude stare. | * But I am expecting Graf Dahlen’s carriage,” I reiterated. ‘‘The ladies of the family were to meet me in Berlin, but I missed them.” Not a word more could I make the postmaster understand. In > a few minutes various postboys and idlers had collected round the door, staring and laughing and whispering to each other. Angry and provoked, I said at last in the plainest German I could muster: ‘‘Can you give me a carriage? I must go to Graf Dahien’s at once.” Something like a smile of intelligence broke out upon the burly man’s face, and he slowly replied: “A carriage? Ja, ja, and a nice carriage too. Jacob, here, bring out the half-chaise and put the Schimmel into the shafts. The young lady wishes to be taken to Graf Dahlen’s immediately.” . Meanwhile the lurid sunset was fast giving way to dark, ominous looking clouds, that came up quickly from the East, black as night, making the West orange-colour by contrast. There was a great lull in the atmosphere: not a leaf stirred, and it was oppressively close. I would not go into the little waiting-room, for it was stifling, and I dreaded the look and manner of the host too much. So I anxiously kept out of his way, and walked up and down the silent market-place, musing over my day rather sadly. What would they be like, these countesses, when I got to them? My reverie was brought to a close by Jacob driving up his half-chaise to my side. And then I found out that a ‘‘Schimmel” meant a white horse in Germany. Eomichbooks.co