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<h2> CHAPTER XIV </h2>
<h3> [Rafting Down the Neckar] </h3>
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<p>When the landlord learned that I and my agents were artists, our party
rose perceptibly in his esteem; we rose still higher when he learned that
we were making a pedestrian tour of Europe.</p>
<p>He told us all about the Heidelberg road, and which were the best places
to avoid and which the best ones to tarry at; he charged me less than cost
for the things I broke in the night; he put up a fine luncheon for us and
added to it a quantity of great light-green plums, the pleasantest fruit
in Germany; he was so anxious to do us honor that he would not allow us to
walk out of Heilbronn, but called up Goetz von Berlichingen's horse and
cab and made us ride.</p>
<p>I made a sketch of the turnout. It is not a Work, it is only what artists
call a "study"—a thing to make a finished picture from. This sketch
has several blemishes in it; for instance, the wagon is not traveling as
fast as the horse is. This is wrong. Again, the person trying to get out
of the way is too small; he is out of perspective, as we say. The two
upper lines are not the horse's back, they are the reigns; there seems to
be a wheel missing—this would be corrected in a finished Work, of
course. This thing flying out behind is not a flag, it is a curtain. That
other thing up there is the sun, but I didn't get enough distance on it. I
do not remember, now, what that thing is that is in front of the man who
is running, but I think it is a haystack or a woman. This study was
exhibited in the Paris Salon of 1879, but did not take any medal; they do
not give medals for studies.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p>
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<p>We discharged the carriage at the bridge. The river was full of logs—long,
slender, barkless pine logs—and we leaned on the rails of the
bridge, and watched the men put them together into rafts. These rafts were
of a shape and construction to suit the crookedness and extreme narrowness
of the Neckar. They were from fifty to one hundred yards long, and they
gradually tapered from a nine-log breadth at their sterns, to a three-log
breadth at their bow-ends. The main part of the steering is done at the
bow, with a pole; the three-log breadth there furnishes room for only the
steersman, for these little logs are not larger around than an average
young lady's waist. The connections of the several sections of the raft
are slack and pliant, so that the raft may be readily bent into any sort
of curve required by the shape of the river.</p>
<p>The Neckar is in many places so narrow that a person can throw a dog
across it, if he has one; when it is also sharply curved in such places,
the raftsman has to do some pretty nice snug piloting to make the turns.
The river is not always allowed to spread over its whole bed—which
is as much as thirty, and sometimes forty yards wide—but is split
into three equal bodies of water, by stone dikes which throw the main
volume, depth, and current into the central one. In low water these neat
narrow-edged dikes project four or five inches above the surface, like the
comb of a submerged roof, but in high water they are overflowed. A hatful
of rain makes high water in the Neckar, and a basketful produces an
overflow.</p>
<p>There are dikes abreast the Schloss Hotel, and the current is violently
swift at that point. I used to sit for hours in my glass cage, watching
the long, narrow rafts slip along through the central channel, grazing the
right-bank dike and aiming carefully for the middle arch of the stone
bridge below; I watched them in this way, and lost all this time hoping to
see one of them hit the bridge-pier and wreck itself sometime or other,
but was always disappointed. One was smashed there one morning, but I had
just stepped into my room a moment to light a pipe, so I lost it.</p>
<p>While I was looking down upon the rafts that morning in Heilbronn, the
daredevil spirit of adventure came suddenly upon me, and I said to my
comrades:</p>
<p>"I am going to Heidelberg on a raft. Will you venture with me?"</p>
<p>Their faces paled a little, but they assented with as good a grace as they
could. Harris wanted to cable his mother—thought it his duty to do
that, as he was all she had in this world—so, while he attended to
this, I went down to the longest and finest raft and hailed the captain
with a hearty "Ahoy, shipmate!" which put us upon pleasant terms at once,
and we entered upon business. I said we were on a pedestrian tour to
Heidelberg, and would like to take passage with him. I said this partly
through young Z, who spoke German very well, and partly through Mr. X, who
spoke it peculiarly. I can <i>understand</i> German as well as the maniac that
invented it, but I <i>talk</i> it best through an interpreter.</p>
<p>The captain hitched up his trousers, then shifted his quid thoughtfully.
Presently he said just what I was expecting he would say—that he had
no license to carry passengers, and therefore was afraid the law would be
after him in case the matter got noised about or any accident happened. So
I <i>chartered</i> the raft and the crew and took all the responsibilities on
myself.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p>
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<p>With a rattling song the starboard watch bent to their work and hove the
cable short, then got the anchor home, and our bark moved off with a
stately stride, and soon was bowling along at about two knots an hour.</p>
<p>Our party were grouped amidships. At first the talk was a little gloomy,
and ran mainly upon the shortness of life, the uncertainty of it, the
perils which beset it, and the need and wisdom of being always prepared
for the worst; this shaded off into low-voiced references to the dangers
of the deep, and kindred matters; but as the gray east began to redden and
the mysterious solemnity and silence of the dawn to give place to the
joy-songs of the birds, the talk took a cheerier tone, and our spirits
began to rise steadily.</p>
<p>Germany, in the summer, is the perfection of the beautiful, but nobody has
understood, and realized, and enjoyed the utmost possibilities of this
soft and peaceful beauty unless he has voyaged down the Neckar on a raft.
The motion of a raft is the needful motion; it is gentle, and gliding, and
smooth, and noiseless; it calms down all feverish activities, it soothes
to sleep all nervous hurry and impatience; under its restful influence all
the troubles and vexations and sorrows that harass the mind vanish away,
and existence becomes a dream, a charm, a deep and tranquil ecstasy. How
it contrasts with hot and perspiring pedestrianism, and dusty and
deafening railroad rush, and tedious jolting behind tired horses over
blinding white roads!</p>
<p>We went slipping silently along, between the green and fragrant banks,
with a sense of pleasure and contentment that grew, and grew, all the
time. Sometimes the banks were overhung with thick masses of willows that
wholly hid the ground behind; sometimes we had noble hills on one hand,
clothed densely with foliage to their tops, and on the other hand open
levels blazing with poppies, or clothed in the rich blue of the
corn-flower; sometimes we drifted in the shadow of forests, and sometimes
along the margin of long stretches of velvety grass, fresh and green and
bright, a tireless charm to the eye. And the birds!—they were
everywhere; they swept back and forth across the river constantly, and
their jubilant music was never stilled.</p>
<p>It was a deep and satisfying pleasure to see the sun create the new
morning, and gradually, patiently, lovingly, clothe it on with splendor
after splendor, and glory after glory, till the miracle was complete. How
different is this marvel observed from a raft, from what it is when one
observes it through the dingy windows of a railway-station in some
wretched village while he munches a petrified sandwich and waits for the
train.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p>
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<p>[Transcriber's Note for edition 12: on the advice of two German-speaking
volunteers, the German letters a, o, and u with umlauts have been rendered
as ae, oe, and ue instead of as, variously, :a, a", :o, o" and :u, u" as
in previous editions.]</p>
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