Odenwald

Mr. Gordon is invited to go on an excursion to the...

Odenwald.

A forest near Frankfurt.

Hören Sie diesem Gespräch zu.

Sind Sie am Sonntag noch hier?

Ja, ich fliege erst am Mittwoch nach Kanada.

Mein Mann und ich machen nächsten Sonntagnachmittag einen Ausflug in den Odenwald.

Möchten Sie vielleicht mitkommen?

For many years they were merely a dainty for the highborn, and the people so obstinately refused to cultivate them that the government thought it a duty from time to time to use coercion.

It is believed the first potatoes in Germany were cultivated in Biberau in the Odenwald, 1648.

They did not reach Prussia until 1720.

The prejudice which existed against them, however, first gave way under the pressure of the great dearth of 1770-72.

Swaying and tumbling, we sat on the sacks which served us for seats.

A peasant drove the cart, and we went merrily into the Odenwald.

We had dinner either at Lichtenberg or Rodenstein, and sometimes we met with little adventures, sudden thunder showers or the like, and on our homeward way we sang Volksschleider, uh, schlieder, schlieder, I think, or schn- or, or, um, or schnatzed, [laughs] I was about to say schnatzed, at plums from the trees as we went by.

Now and then we went on a long walking excursion.

Listen now to his story of The Spectre Bridegroom.

I am Hedda Van Landshort, and I lived with my father, the Baron, and my Aunt Matilda in his castle on the very tip-top of the Odenwald, a most wild and romantic spot.

I was just 18 years old at the time this all happened, and quite ready, [laughs] yes, anxious, to be married to the gentleman my father, the Baron, had selected for me.

Hedda, today is the day.

My wife, writes Mr. Ellis, who was brought up in Germany and who was not sufficiently confident about her English to attempt to put down anything for publication in that language, tells me the following story for the Occult Review.

When I was a little girl living with my family near Mickelstadt in the Odenwald, I remember an old woman like an old witch whose name was Louise and who was called Fyfe Louise because she exhibited pipes for sale in her cottage window along with the cheap dress stuffs, needles and threads, and simple toys for children which were her stock and trade.

She had a favorite cat which was devoted to her, but its attachment doesn't seem to have been enough to make her happy, for she married a young sergeant named Lautenschlager who might have been her son or indeed her grandson and who, as everyone said, courted her for money.

She died as long ago as 1869 and during her last illness the devoted cat was always with her.