A TRAMP ABROAD By Mark Twain

She threw up her hands with a surprised “ACH GOTT,

HERR PROFESSOR!” and exhibited a mighty deference for my

new acquaintance. By the sparkle in her eye I judged

she was a good deal amused, too. The “Herr Professor”

talked to her in German, and I understood enough of it

to know that he was bringing very plausible reasons to bear

for admitting me. They were successful. So the Herr

Professor received my earnest thanks and departed.

The old dame got her keys, took me up two or three flights

of stairs, unlocked a door, and we stood in the presence

of the criminal. Then she went into a jolly and eager

description of all that had occurred downstairs, and what

the Herr Professor had said, and so forth and so on.

Plainly, she regarded it as quite a superior joke that I had

waylaid a Professor and employed him in so odd a service.

But I wouldn’t have done it if I had known he was a Professor;

therefore my conscience was not disturbed.

Now the dame left us to ourselves. The cell was not a roomy one;

still it was a little larger than an ordinary prison cell.

It had a window of good size, iron-grated; a small stove;

two wooden chairs; two oaken tables, very old and

most elaborately carved with names, mottoes, faces,

armorial bearings, etc.–the work of several generations

of imprisoned students; and a narrow wooden bedstead

with a villainous straw mattress, but no sheets, pillows,

blankets, or coverlets–for these the student must furnish

at his own cost if he wants them. There was no carpet, of

course.

The ceiling was completely covered with names, dates,

and monograms, done with candle-smoke. The walls were

thickly covered with pictures and portraits (in profile),

some done with ink, some with soot, some with a pencil,

and some with red, blue, and green chalks; and whenever

an inch or two of space had remained between the pictures,

the captives had written plaintive verses, or names

and dates. I do not think I was ever in a more elaborately

frescoed apartment.

Against the wall hung a placard containing the prison laws.

I made a note of one or two of these. For instance:

The prisoner must pay, for the “privilege” of entering,

a sum equivalent to 20 cents of our money; for the privilege

of leaving, when his term had expired, 20 cents; for every

day spent in the prison, 12 cents; for fire and light,

12 cents a day. The jailer furnishes coffee, mornings,

for a small sum; dinners and suppers may be ordered

from outside if the prisoner chooses–and he is allowed

to pay for them, too.

Here and there, on the walls, appeared the names

of American students, and in one place the American

arms and motto were displayed in colored chalks.

With the help of my friend I translated many of the inscriptions.

Some of them were cheerful, others the reverse.

I will give the reader a few specimens:

“In my tenth semester (my best one), I am cast here

through the complaints of others. Let those who follow

me take warning.”

“III TAGE OHNE GRUND ANGEBLICH AUS NEUGIERDE.” Which is to say,

he had a curiosity to know what prison life was like;

so he made a breach in some law and got three days for it.

It is more than likely that he never had the same

curiosity again.

(TRANSLATION.) “E. Glinicke, four days for being too eager

a spectator of a row.”

“F. Graf Bismarck–27-29, II, ’74.” Which means that

Count Bismarck, son of the great statesman, was a prisoner

two days in 1874.

(TRANSLATION.) “R. Diergandt–for Love–4 days.”

Many people in this world have caught it heavier than

for the same indiscretion.

This one is terse. I translate:

“Four weeks for MISINTERPRETED GALLANTRY.” I wish

the sufferer had explained a little more fully.

A four-week term is a rather serious matter.

There were many uncomplimentary references, on the walls,

to a certain unpopular dignitary. One sufferer had got

three days for not saluting him. Another had “here two days

slept and three nights lain awake,” on account of this

same “Dr. K.” In one place was a picture of Dr. K. hanging