A TRAMP ABROAD By Mark Twain

ye not; I am alone and forlorn in the world–prithee

lead me to her grave.”

During two years Conrad spent his days, from the

early morning till the night, under the linden tree,

mourning over the imaginary grave of his Catharina.

Catharina was the only company of the harmless madman.

He was very friendly toward her because, as he said,

in some ways she reminded him of his Catharina whom he had

lost “fifty years ago.” He often said:

“She was so gay, so happy-hearted–but you never smile;

and always when you think I am not looking, you cry.”

When Conrad died, they buried him under the linden,

according to his directions, so that he might rest

“near his poor Catharina.” Then Catharina sat under

the linden alone, every day and all day long, a great

many years, speaking to no one, and never smiling;

and at last her long repentance was rewarded with death,

and she was buried by Conrad’s side.

Harris pleased the captain by saying it was good legend;

and pleased him further by adding:

“Now that I have seen this mighty tree, vigorous with

its four hundred years, I feel a desire to believe

the legend for ITS sake; so I will humor the desire,

and consider that the tree really watches over those poor

hearts and feels a sort of human tenderness for them.”

We returned to Necharsteinach, plunged our hot heads

into the trough at the town pump, and then went to the

hotel and ate our trout dinner in leisurely comfort,

in the garden, with the beautiful Neckar flowing at our feet,

the quaint Dilsberg looming beyond, and the graceful

towers and battlements of a couple of medieval castles

(called the “Swallow’s Nest” [1] and “The Brothers.”)

assisting the rugged scenery of a bend of the river

down to our right. We got to sea in season to make the

eight-mile run to Heidelberg before the night shut down.

We sailed by the hotel in the mellow glow of sunset,

and came slashing down with the mad current into the narrow

passage between the dikes. I believed I could shoot the

bridge myself, and I went to the forward triplet of logs

and relieved the pilot of his pole and his responsibility.

1. The seeker after information is referred to Appendix

E for our captain’s legend of the “Swallow’s Nest”

and “The Brothers.”

We went tearing along in a most exhilarating way, and I

performed the delicate duties of my office very well indeed

for a first attempt; but perceiving, presently, that I

really was going to shoot the bridge itself instead

of the archway under it, I judiciously stepped ashore.

The next moment I had my long-coveted desire: I saw

a raft wrecked. It hit the pier in the center and went

all to smash and scatteration like a box of matches

struck by lightning.

I was the only one of our party who saw this grand sight;

the others were attitudinizing, for the benefit of the long

rank of young ladies who were promenading on the bank,

and so they lost it. But I helped to fish them out of

the river, down below the bridge, and then described it

to them as well as I could.

They were not interested, though. They said they were

wet and felt ridiculous and did not care anything for

descriptions of scenery. The young ladies, and other people,

crowded around and showed a great deal of sympathy,

but that did not help matters; for my friends said they

did not want sympathy, they wanted a back alley and solitude.

CHAPTER XX

[My Precious, Priceless Tear-Jug]

Next morning brought good news–our trunks had arrived

from Hamburg at last. Let this be a warning to the reader.

The Germans are very conscientious, and this trait makes

them very particular. Therefore if you tell a German you

want a thing done immediately, he takes you at your word;

he thinks you mean what you say; so he does that thing

immediately–according to his idea of immediately–

which is about a week; that is, it is a week if it refers

to the building of a garment, or it is an hour and a half