The Poor Man of Toggenburg - Autobiography of Ulrich Bräker

What's the use of crying now? Lassie, it is time, back to the village with you. There are plenty of other lads left!" At last, and indeed it had gone on long enough, I myself begged Ännchen to turn back. "It must, it must be so!" Then one single kiss more, but such a one that it might have been both the first and the last in my life, and a few dozen handclasps, and: "Farewell, farewell, do not forget me! No, never, never, never in all eternity!" We walked on, she stood still, hid her face and wept aloud, and I scarcely less. For as far as we could still see one another, we waved our handkerchiefs and blew kisses.

Then it was over, we were out of sight of her. O how I felt at that moment! Laurenz, wishing to raise my spirits, began to preach a long sermon, telling me that in foreign parts too there were heavenly creatures to be seen, so fine that my Ännchen was nothing but a snotty cottage brat by comparison, and so on. I became angry at his words, but said nothing, [...].

It was a Sunday. We lodged at The Pike and stayed there the whole day. Everyone stared at me, as if they had never before seen a young man from Tockenburg or Appenzell, going abroad, he knew not whither, much less why. At every table I heard much talk of good living and merry times. They gave me plenty to drink. I was not used to wine and soon became excited and in high spirits. As night was falling we set out again on our way. A man from Herisau, with foxy red hair, [...] was our companion. Our way lay through Gossau and Flohweil. At Flohweil we passed a shed where some girls were swingling flax

by lamplight. "Wait a minute", said I, "I must take a look at these and see if any is like my sweetheart". With that I sat down amongst them and chatted to them for a little while. But indeed they were not much compared to her. And soon my guides drove me forth, saying that I would soon get plenty of that sort of thing, and making all kinds of indecent remarks, so that I blushed to the roots of my hair.

Then we passed through Rickenbach, Frauenfeld and Nünforn. Here all of a sudden a dreadful weariness came upon me. Not to mention the tramping and the drinking, it was the first time in my life that I had not slept for two successive nights. But the other fellows would not hear of resting, but pressed vigorously on towards Schaffhausen, and finally, when I swore that I could not go a step further, they procured me a horse. This did not suit me too badly. As we went on they kept sermonizing me about how I should behave in Schaffhausen, how I should stand up straight and answer readily. Then the two of them whispered together (yet purposely loud enough for me to hear) of gallant gentlemen of their acquaintance, whose servants were as prosperous as the great people of Tockenburg. "In particular", said Laurenz, "I know of a German who is living there incognito, a real gentleman of noble blood, who keeps all sorts of servants, the least of them well off as a Landammann [the president of a canton]". - "Alas", said I, "if only I was not too awkward to speak with such gentlemen!" - "Just speak straight out what comes into your head", said they, "that's what such gentlefolk like best".

We arrived in Schaffhausen while it was still early and stopped at The Ship. When I fell, rather than dismounted, from my horse, I was as if half crippled and stood there like the village idiot. Then my companions began to subject me to inspection in a way that soon had me in a rage, for I could not understand what was to come of it. As we were going up the steps they told me to wait for a moment in the porch, they went inside and after a few minutes called to me to enter also. There I saw a big handsome man who smiled at me in a friendly manner. Without more ado they bade me take off my shoes and stood me up against a post under a marker, and looked me over from head to foot. Then they conversed together in an undertone, and at this point, poor simple boy that I was, the suspicion arose in me for the first time that these two

A swingle, an instrument like a wooden sword, was used to beat and scrape flax plants, to remove coarse or woody particles from the fibres.