During this speech Buergi, the crafty cabinet-maker, had also been thinking the matter over, and when again a short silence ensued and the silversmith began to pull a long face, the cabinet-maker unburdened himself thus: "An idea has occurred to me too, dear friends, which would probably give rise to a great deal of fun. Years ago I had an order from a couple from out of town who were about to be married, for a double canopy bed of the finest walnut, with bird's-eye maple veneer; the young couple hung round my workshop every day measuring the length and the breadth, and billing and cooing before the journeymen and apprentices, minding neither their jokes nor their insinuations. But when the time came for the wedding they suddenly parted, hating each other as a cat hates a dog, not a soul knew why; one went this way, one went that, and the bedstead was left standing as immovable as a rock. At cost price it's worth a hundred and eighty francs, but I'll gladly lose eighty and let it go for a hundred. Then we can have a mattress made for it and set it up in the trophy hall, fully made up, with the inscription: 'For a single Confederate, as an encouragement!' How's that?" Merry laughter rewarded this idea; only the smiles of the silversmith and the blacksmith were faint and wry; but Pfister, the inn-keeper, immediately raised his hearty voice and said with his accustomed frankness: "Well gentlemen, if it's the programme for each of us to bring his own pig to market, then I know of something better than anything yet proposed. I have in my cellar a well-sealed cask of '34 claret, so-called Swiss blood, which I bought myself in Basle more than twelve years ago. You are all so temperate and modest in your demands, that I have never ventured to tap the wine, and yet I have two hundred francs tied up in it, for there are just a hundred measures. I will give you the wine for what it cost, and reckon the cask as cheaply as possible, glad if I can only make room for something that will sell better, and may I never leave this place if such a gift wouldn't do us honor." This speech, during which the three who had made their suggestions had already began to murmur, was scarcely ended, when Erismann, the other inn-keeper, took the floor and said: "If this is the way it's going, I won't be left behind either, but am ready to declare that I think I have the best thing for our purpose, and that is my young milch cow, a thoroughbred Oberland, that I am just ready to sell if I can find a good purchaser. If we tie a bell round the neck of this handsome animal, a milking stool between her horns, adorn her with flowers--"