Fraeulein von
Cucumber. This confounded narrative had its scene in an old garden
in Silesia, where there were incidents of real beauty and interest
interwoven, ay, and verses that would make your heart thrill. Caroline
could evidently resist no longer. The Baron von Beetroot was ever
uppermost in her mind; and if she ate Gurken-salat, it brought the tears
into her eyes. In this sad strait I wandered out alone one evening, and
without knowing it reached the "Rase Muehle," near Oltdorf. There I
went in and ordered a supper; but they had nothing but thick-milk and
kalte-schade. *

* Thick-milk--a mess of sour cream thickened with sugar and
crumbs of bread _Kallte-schade_--the same species of
abomination, the only difference being beer, for cream, for
the fluid.

No matter, thought I--a man in such grief as mine need little care what
he eats; and I ordered both, that I might afterwards decide which I'd
prefer. They came, and were placed before me. Himmel und Erde! what did
I do but eat the two!--beer and cream, cream and beer, pepper and sugar,
brown bread and nutmeg! Such was my abstraction, that I never noticed
what I was doing till I saw the two empty bowls before me. "I am a dead
Hofrath before day breaks," said I, "and I'll make my will"; but before
I could put the plan into execution I became very ill, and they were
obliged to carry me to bed. From that moment my senses began to wander;
exhaustion, sour beer, and despair were all working within me, and I was
mad. It was a brief paroxysm, but a fearful one. A hundred and fifty
thousand ridiculous fancies went at racing speed through my mind, and I
spent the night alternately laughing and crying. My pipe, that lay on
the chair beside the bed, figured in nearly every scene, and performed a
part in many a strange adventure.

'By noon the others learned where I was, and came over to see me. After
sitting for half an hour beside me they were going away, when I called
Caroline and Martha back. Caroline blushed; but, taking Martha's arm,
she seated herself upon a sofa, and asked in a timid voice what I wished
for.

'"To hear before I die," replied I; "to listen to a wonderful vision I
have seen this night."

"A vision," said Caroline; "oh, what was it?"

'"A beautiful and a touching one. Let me tell it to you.
I will call it 'The-never-to-be-lost-sight-of, though
not-the-less-on-that-account-to-be-concealed, Loves of the Mug and the
Meerschaum.'"