We were of course far, far too early for the post. The old man came out of his house, and seemed amused at our haste to be gone. "I am afraid Silberbach has not taken your fancy," he said. "Well, no wonder. I think it is the dreariest place I ever saw." "Then you do not belong to it? Have you not been here long?" I asked. He shook his head. "Only a few months, and I hope to get removed soon," he said. So _he_ could have told me nothing, evidently! "It is too lonely here. There is not a creature in the place who ever touches a book--they are all as dull and stupid as they can be. But then they are very poor, and they live on here from year's end to year's end, barely able to earn their daily bread. Poverty degrades--there is no doubt of it, whatever the wise men may say. A few generations of it makes men little better than----" He stopped. "Than?" I asked. "Than," the old philosopher of the post-house went on, "pardon the expression--than pigs." There were two or three of the fraternity grubbing about at the side of the road; they may have suggested the comparison. I could hardly help smiling. "But I have travelled a good deal in Germany," I said, "and I have never anywhere found the people so stupid and stolid and ungenial as here." "Perhaps not," he said. "Still there are many places like this, only naturally they are not the places strangers visit. It is never so bad where there are a few country houses near, for nowadays it must be allowed it is seldom but that the gentry take some interest in the people." "It is a pity no rich man takes a fancy to Silberbach," I said. "That day will never come. The best thing would be for a railway to be cut through the place, but that, too, is not likely." Then the old postmaster turned into his garden, inviting us civilly to wait there or in the office if we preferred. But we liked better to stay outside, for just above the post-house there was a rather tempting little wood, much prettier than anything to be seen on the other side of the village. And Nora and I sat there quietly on the stumps of some old trees, while Reggie found a pleasing distraction in alternately chasing and making friends with a party of ducks, which, for reasons best known to themselves, had deserted their native element and come for a stroll in the woods. From where we sat we looked down on our late habitation; we could almost distinguish the landlord's slouching figure and poor Lieschen with a pail of water slung at each side as she came in from the well.