A STROLL WITHOUT MY RIFLE. * 347 



he cared for was time that was everything ; nothing 

 could be done quick enough. Ah, it put life into us 

 all whenever we heard he was coming 1" 



" And did he never stop to take any refreshment?" 

 I asked. 



" Perhaps he just had time to swallow a cup of 

 coffee, but all in a trice, he allowed himself scarcely 

 a second ; or he took something with him as he jumped 

 into the carriage, and ate it as he went along. He 

 must have been very strong to bear what he did, but 

 sometimes he looked exceedingly tired; yet he was 

 always full of life, and only cared about getting on." 



" And what sort of a man was he ?" 



" Very friendly, but severe very severe with the 

 postillions. And he was right : he paid for the trouble, 

 and well too ; there was no stint of money when he 

 came." 



" And how did he travel?" 



" Always in a light carriage, sometimes quite alone, 

 and in the others were the letters. They were crammed 

 full ; it was something quite wonderful to see the quan- 

 tity of boxes he had with him. Everything was or- 

 dered some time beforehand ; and we were told, from 

 a certain day, to be in readiness till he arrived. We 

 were constantly on the watch, for there was no know- 

 ing when he would come. Sometimes when we least 

 expected him he would all of a sudden be here, in 

 the middle of the night perhaps, tearing along, and 

 in a moment on again. When once he was announced, 

 from that instant we had no rest, for we were obliged 



