A TRAMP ABROAD By Mark Twain

the villagers stood around admiring him while he

swaggered about, the little boys gazed up at his face with

humble homage, and the landlord brought out foaming mugs

of beer and conversed proudly with him while he drank.

Then he mounted his lofty box, swung his explosive whip,

and away he went again, like a storm. I had not seen

anything like this before since I was a boy, and the

stage used to flourish the village with the dust flying

and the horn tooting.

When we reached the base of the Kaiserstuhl, we took

two more horses; we had to toil along with difficulty

for an hour and a half or two hours, for the ascent

was not very gradual, but when we passed the backbone

and approached the station, the driver surpassed all

his previous efforts in the way of rush and clatter.

He could not have six horses all the time, so he made

the most of his chance while he had it.

Up to this point we had been in the heart of the William

Tell region. The hero is not forgotten, by any means,

or held in doubtful veneration. His wooden image,

with his bow drawn, above the doors of taverns, was a

frequent feature of the scenery.

About noon we arrived at the foot of the Bru”nig Pass,

and made a two-hour stop at the village hotel, another of

those clean, pretty, and thoroughly well-kept inns which are

such an astonishment to people who are accustomed to hotels

of a dismally different pattern in remote country-towns.

There was a lake here, in the lap of the great mountains,

the green slopes that rose toward the lower crags

were graced with scattered Swiss cottages nestling

among miniature farms and gardens, and from out a leafy

ambuscade in the upper heights tumbled a brawling cataract.

Carriage after carriage, laden with tourists and trunks,

arrived, and the quiet hotel was soon populous.

We were early at the table d’ho^te and saw the people

all come in. There were twenty-five, perhaps. They were

of various nationalities, but we were the only Americans.

Next to me sat an English bride, and next to her sat her

new husband, whom she called “Neddy,” though he was big

enough and stalwart enough to be entitled to his full name.

They had a pretty little lovers’ quarrel over what wine

they should have. Neddy was for obeying the guide-book

and taking the wine of the country; but the bride said:

“What, that nahsty stuff!”

“It isn’t nahsty, pet, it’s quite good.”

“It IS nahsty.”

“No, it ISN’T nahsty.”

“It’s Oful nahsty, Neddy, and I shahn’t drink it.”

Then the question was, what she must have. She said he

knew very well that she never drank anything but champagne.

She added:

“You know very well papa always has champagne on his table,

and I’ve always been used to it.”

Neddy made a playful pretense of being distressed about

the expense, and this amused her so much that she nearly

exhausted herself with laughter–and this pleased HIM

so much that he repeated his jest a couple of times,

and added new and killing varieties to it. When the bride

finally recovered, she gave Neddy a love-box on the arm

with her fan, and said with arch severity:

“Well, you would HAVE me–nothing else would do–

so you’ll have to make the best of a bad bargain.

DO order the champagne, I’m Oful dry.”

So with a mock groan which made her laugh again,

Neddy ordered the champagne.

The fact that this young woman had never moistened

the selvedge edge of her soul with a less plebeian

tipple than champagne, had a marked and subduing effect

on Harris. He believed she belonged to the royal family.

But I had my doubts.

We heard two or three different languages spoken by

people at the table and guessed out the nationalities

of most of the guests to our satisfaction, but we

failed with an elderly gentleman and his wife and a

young girl who sat opposite us, and with a gentleman

of about thirty-five who sat three seats beyond Harris.

We did not hear any of these speak. But finally the