Through rocky defiles
and pine-woods, over swelling hills and past waterfalls, Vieweg
and I trudged once a week in sociable silence, broken only by a
few scraps of information from my companion as to the prospects of
that year's crop of cinchona bark, and the varying wholesale price
of that interesting commodity. At times, before a fine view,
Vieweg would make quite a long speech for him: "Du Fritz! Schon
was?" using, of course, the German diminutive to my Christian
name, after which he would gaze on the prospect and relapse into
silence, and dreamy meditations on sulphate of quinine and its
possibilities.
I think Vieweg enjoyed these excursions, for on returning to
Brunswick after about four hours' un-broken silence, he would
always say on parting, "Du Fritz! War nicht so ubel;" or, "Fritz,
it wasn't so bad," very high praise from so sparing a talker.
Mr. Vieweg senior invited me to shoot with him on several
occasions during the winter months. The "Kettle-drive" (Kessel-
Treib) is the local manner of shooting hares. Guns and beaters
form themselves into an immense circle, a mile in diameter, over
the treeless, hedgeless flats, and all advance slowly towards the
centre of the circle.
Pages:
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259