He was
driving a tiny little haycart with a tiny little horse, and up in the cart
was a little red-flanked cow--on its way to the butcher's, I suppose. All
three--man, horse, and cow--were undersized; palaeolithic figures; dwarf
creatures from the underworld on a visit to the haunts of men. I almost
looked to see them vanish before my eyes. All of a sudden the cow in its
Lilliputian cart utters a throaty roar--and even that unromantic sound was
like a voice from another world.
A couple of hours later I come upon the man again, minus horse and cow: he
is wandering round among the shops on his errands. I follow him to the
saddler's--saddler and harness-maker Vogt is also a glazier, and deals in
leather as well. This merchant of many parts offers to serve me first, but
I explain that I must look at a saddle, and some glass, and a trifle of
leather first, I am in no hurry. So he turns to the elfin countryman.
The two are old acquaintances.
"So here's you come to town?"
"Ay, that's the way of it.
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