Mr. Vieweg's son was one of Hentze's pupils, and was
the thin, silent boy I have already noticed. I remember well how
young Vieweg introduced himself to me in laboured English, "Are
you a friend to fishing with the fly?" he asked. "I also fish most
gladly, and if you wish, we will together to the Harz Mountains
go, and there many trout catch." As the Harz Mountains are within
an hour of Brunswick by train, off we went, and young Vieweg was
certainly a most expert fisherman. My respect for him was
increased enormously when I found that he did not mind in the
least how wet he got whilst fishing. Most German boys of his age
would have thought standing in cold water up to their knees a
certain forerunner of immediate death.
Vieweg told me, with perfect justice, that he knew every path and
every track in the Northern Harz, and that he had climbed every
single hill. He complained that none of his German friends cared
for climbing or walking, and asked whether I would accompany him
on one of his expeditions. So a week later we went again to the
Harz, and Vieweg led me an interminable and very rough walk up-
hill and down-dale.
Pages:
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256