ean piece of business, in
which he had sworn that he was innocent, although, according to my
conviction and the general belief, he had perjured himself in so doing.
But what does such an unconscionable voluptuary care for that? When the
peril was passed, all care was at an end.

The baker approached me and inquired if I would like to ride home with
him; for the government levies had rendered it difficult to obtain a
conveyance. I declined; Fortunately, my neighbor, the young meadow
farmer, who had been taking hay over to the railway station, was
passing by at the time, and so I rode home with him.

A little way out of the town, we came up with a young woman who was
walking along the road. She had covered her head with a large white
kerchief, and was carrying an infant in her arms.

Her head was bent forward; and it is generally a sign of deep thought
if one who is walking along a road does not look around at the rapid
approach of a vehicle. And this woman was Lerz's victim.

The meadow farmer, who was, usually, a man of few words, leaned back
from his seat on the front bench, and whispered to me, "Such a fellow
as Lerz ought not to be permitted to take an oath."

The meadow farmer had for a long while been my worst enemy, simply
because I had deprived him of his greatest enjoyment--venting his spite
on others.

Although it may, in these pages, seem as if I had cherished too high an
ideal of the people, I desire right here to say that I have found among
the lower classes that which is noblest and highest in man. But I have
also found much that is mean and revolting. Envy and malice are
characteristics almost peculiar to the farmer, and are especially shown
about the time of irrigating the meadows. It affords him peculiar
pleasure to wait until a neighbor has set his water-traps, and to sneak
out and reverse them so as to make the water flow on to his own
meadows.

The authorities had forbidden the watering of meadows after two o'clock
on Sunday morning, but it availed nothing. I appointed a servant who
was to have the sole right of setting the water-gates and opening them
again; and the meadow farmer could not forgive me for this. I had
robbed him of the pleasure of wreaking his spite on others.

It was not so much on account of the advantage he had gained thereby;
but, like the rest of them, he had found it great sport to outwit the
"gentleman farmer," as they called me.

The meadow farmer really hated me and