his effusion, in order that I may
learn who and what you are. I am a Silesian horseherd (to be distinguished
from the cowherds [_kuehbuerla's_], who till their field with pious
moo-moos). Instead of attending a high school, I herded cows, ploughed,
harvested, and helped to thrash in the winter. While herding I played the
flute in the valleys of the Sudetic Mountains; and because the hands of
the old village schoolmaster trembled very much, I begged of him to let me
try to play the organ for him. 'Ah, you rascal, you can play better than
I,' and he boxed my ears. Then my eldest brother took possession of the
farm of seventy-five acres, gave us no compensation, and the rest of us
lads had to pack off. We scraped together the passage money to America,
and about thirty years ago I arrived here, where--I almost said God be
praised--it has always gone pretty hard with me. Whether I fare well or ill
is the same to me. I make no distinction, for in view of the rapid passing
of life, it does not pay to give much thought to unnecessary distinctions.
I never could think of marrying, chiefly because the majority of the women
in this country are shrews, cannot cook, and spend much too much money on
the housekeeping. Besides, I have but a short time to live, for I possess
a chest catarrh most loyally devoted to me, verging upon a perfect asthma,
which I hope erelong will bring me to a joyful end. No doubt you will
think what a disconsolate fellow this is who has written to me. O pshaw! I
have always enjoyed the sunshine, and have sat alone hundreds of snug
hours before my winter's companion, a small iron stove. During the last
three nights I have repeatedly read through your article on Celsus,
published in the _Deutsche Rundschau_, by a tallow-candle. In relation to
your enthusiasm over the religious clap-trap in Chicago, I should like to
observe that you would have been entirely in the right if you had
represented the Exhibition as the greatest event of the past ten years. I
came through Chicago in September, 1892, visited the prospective site of
the Exposition, and found there a mere wilderness, scarcely a single
building half finished, and it was a wonder of wonders what American
enterprise and genius for organisation accomplished within the single
intervening winter. One could scarcely recover from one's astonishment at
what ten thousand labourers, urged on by the Yankee lash, could make ready
in six months. 'There was money in the