Only it is such a queer,
outlandish life that is lived here, with little crooked fingers, with eyes
as of a mouse, and ears filled day and night with the eternal rushing of
the waters. A beetle on its way in the heather, a stub of yellow grass
sticks up here and there--huge trees they seem to the beetle's eye! Two
local merchants walk across the bridge. Going to the post, no doubt. They
have this very day decided to go halves in a whole sheet of stamps, buying
them all at once for the sake of the rebate on a quantity!
Oh, those local tradesmen!
Each day they hang out their stocks of ready-made clothes, and dress their
windows with their stuffs and goods, but rarely do I see a customer go in.
I thought to myself at first: But there must surely be some one now and
then--a peasant from somewhere up the valley, coming into town. And I was
right; I saw that peasant today, and it was strange and pleasant to see
him.
He was dressed like the pictures in our folk-tales--a little short jacket
with silver buttons, and grey breeches with a black leather seat.
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