Ch. 16 - The Zäther Dale

Everything was in order, the carriage examined, even a whip with a
good lash was not forgotten. "Two whips would be best," said the
ironmonger, who sold it, and the ironmonger was a man of experience,
which travellers often are not. A whole bag full of "slanter"--that
is, copper coins of small value--stood before us for bridge-money, for
beggars, for shepherd's boys, or whoever might open the many
field-gates for us that obstructed our progress. But we had to do this
ourselves, for the rain pattered down and lashed the ground; no one
had any desire to come out in such weather. The rushes in the marsh
bent and waved; it was a real rain feast for them, and it whistled
from the tops of the rushes: "We drink with our feet, we drink with
our heads, we drink with the whole body, and yet we stand on one leg,
hurra! We drink with the bending willow, with the dripping flowers on
the bank; their cups run over--the marsh marigold, that fine lady, can
bear it better! Hurra! it is a feast! it pours, it pours; we whistle
and we sing; it is our own song. Tomorrow the frogs will croak the
same after us and say, 'it is quite new!'"

And the rushes waved, and the rain pattered down with a splashing
noise--it was fine weather to travel in to Zäther Dale, and to see its
far-famed beauties. The whip-lash now came off the whip; it was
fastened on again, and again, and every time it was shorter, so that
at last there was not a lash, nor was there any handle, for the handle
went after the lash--or sailed after it--as the road was quite
navigable, and gave one a vivid idea of the beginning of the deluge.

One poor jade now drew too much, the other drew too little, and one of
the splinter bars broke; well, by all that is vexatious, that was a
fine drive! The leather apron in front had a deep pond in its folds
with an outlet into one's lap. Now one of the linch-pins came out; now
the twisting of the rope harness became loose, and the cross-strap was
tired of holding any longer. Glorious inn in Zäther, how I now long
more for thee than thy far-famed dale. And the horses went slower, and
the rain fell faster, and so--yes, so we were not yet in Zäther.

Patience, thou lank spider, that in the ante-chamber quietly dost spin
thy web over the expectant's foot, spin my eyelids close in a sleep as
still as the horse's pace! Patience? no, she was not with us in the
carriage to Zäther. But to the inn, by the road side, close to the
far-famed valley, I got at length, towards evening.

And everything was flowing in the yard, chaotically mingled; manure
and farming implements, staves and straw. The poultry sat there washed
to shadows, or at least like stuck-up hens' skins with feathers on,