DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62134#0209
THE ROYAL WOOD-YARD.
201
of those spots which, in after years, when my head reposes
on its English pillow, will often rise up dreamily before
me, and in fancy I shall again and again be walking along
the raised pathway beside the rushing green mill-stream-
with softly turfed banks sloping down, and then the acres
of wood-yard stretching away on one hand, whilst the
water rushes on the other. I shall see the heaps and heaps
of carefully stacked wood piled up for royal consumption;
I shall hear the distant sawing and chopping of workmen;
I shall see their little grey huts and houses sprinkled here
and there. Perhaps it is mid-winter, frost and snow lying
on the ground : in through the huge grey gates rattles and
jolts a long grey wagon, drawn by four beautiful horses,
upon one of which is mounted a man in the royal livery :
it is a royal wagon come to fetch the royal wood for burn-
ing in the royal stoves; and another long wagon, drawn by
equally handsome horses, soon follows it: men begin
instantly piling the wagons with wood, and a wagon
already laden making its appearance from the more distant
part of the enclosure, rattles with its four mettlesome horses
and blue-liveried postilion bravely away through the great
gates. A splendid piece of timber tumbles off from the
royal load as the wagon sways through them ; but the royal
servant and royal horses never deign to stop for a piece of
lost wood, and rattle still bravely up the road.
A poor shrivelled little old woman, with a kerchief of
orange and blue tied over her shaking head, and shading
the grotesque features of a thorough “ Mdrchen-Frau,”
comes tottering along over the frosty ground ,and perceives
the mighty prize. She darts upon it with sudden agility,
she casts furtive glances around, she wraps it up in her
crimson stuff apron, and quietly pursues her way. Poor
old Mdrchen Fran, ! I will not tell of your little theft to the
watchers in the wood-yard; I know as well as you do,
201
of those spots which, in after years, when my head reposes
on its English pillow, will often rise up dreamily before
me, and in fancy I shall again and again be walking along
the raised pathway beside the rushing green mill-stream-
with softly turfed banks sloping down, and then the acres
of wood-yard stretching away on one hand, whilst the
water rushes on the other. I shall see the heaps and heaps
of carefully stacked wood piled up for royal consumption;
I shall hear the distant sawing and chopping of workmen;
I shall see their little grey huts and houses sprinkled here
and there. Perhaps it is mid-winter, frost and snow lying
on the ground : in through the huge grey gates rattles and
jolts a long grey wagon, drawn by four beautiful horses,
upon one of which is mounted a man in the royal livery :
it is a royal wagon come to fetch the royal wood for burn-
ing in the royal stoves; and another long wagon, drawn by
equally handsome horses, soon follows it: men begin
instantly piling the wagons with wood, and a wagon
already laden making its appearance from the more distant
part of the enclosure, rattles with its four mettlesome horses
and blue-liveried postilion bravely away through the great
gates. A splendid piece of timber tumbles off from the
royal load as the wagon sways through them ; but the royal
servant and royal horses never deign to stop for a piece of
lost wood, and rattle still bravely up the road.
A poor shrivelled little old woman, with a kerchief of
orange and blue tied over her shaking head, and shading
the grotesque features of a thorough “ Mdrchen-Frau,”
comes tottering along over the frosty ground ,and perceives
the mighty prize. She darts upon it with sudden agility,
she casts furtive glances around, she wraps it up in her
crimson stuff apron, and quietly pursues her way. Poor
old Mdrchen Fran, ! I will not tell of your little theft to the
watchers in the wood-yard; I know as well as you do,