As an illustration of the without and the within of the place, a little personal experience is introduced. At the end of a bleak November day, I found myself taking the advice of a friend and making an extra exertion with jaded beast, in order to enjoy the hospitality of the “Aughfeultwangher.” Knowing the reputation of the hostess I greeted her with: “Well, Auntie, can you keep a stranger to-night?”
Looking at me with a quizzical expression and evidently pleased at the appellation used, she replied: “Dot is von long face to keeps all in von house.”
“O, well, never mind, I can let a part of it stay in the barn.”
“Vell, I guess we growds es all in dem house,” and running to the back door, she called out, “Fater, fater, here bist einer mann, unt ein pferd vas Shineral Shackson rote. Nehms du es dem stolle vilst Ich das abend essen for dem manne erhalten.”
Obedient to the summons the host came at once, and took the wearied beast, whilst I was ushered into the little bar-room, whose well-filled box-stove was sending out a genial warmth, and away went the sprightly dame to prepare supper, whose savory odors soon filled the house.
Directly the door into the great family kitchen opened, and I did not wait for a repetition of the hearty “Coome Meister, your supper bist ready.” Entering, I found the room seated after the German style, and was greeted with the sight of a great, open fire-place, with its bake-oven and pot-hole attachment. Upon the table were rich slices of ham, eggs, bread, such as only a genuine German woman can bake, and other things in abundance. When I was seated and the good woman had poured out a cup of delicious coffee, she took a chair opposite, and after eying me a moment, inquired:
“O your grossfater. Vell, I tot dare vas some Shermeny blud; dot lickt hair und blau eyes zint der sign, meister.”
“Well, auntie, ’tis not bad blood, is it.”
“O nein. Mein Got, es ist dot best, but das Yankee is shust so goot,” to which of course I assented, with the remark that the two together are a little better, thus causing the old lady to laugh outright.
After a moment’s pause, in which there seemed to be a studying of what tactics to pursue, she said, “Vell, meister, it bist none of my pisness, but vas you stoon in das velt?”