I recognized him: it was my grandson Martin, the son of my daughter Johanna. He nodded to me, and when I turned to look at him, I saw the lieutenant collaring and buffeting him for speaking without orders while in the ranks. We had proceeded but a short distance when I observed that Funk was on the train. He kept at a distance from us. He had bought a large bundle of extra newspapers, which he distributed to the people at the different stations. When we reached our circuit town we repaired to the Wild Man Tavern, where, while waiting for a conveyance, we seated ourselves under the newly planted lindens. While sitting there, engrossed by thoughts of the country's troubles, I learned of another trouble nearer home. I am old enough to know something of human wickedness, but I admit that I am, even to this day, frequently surprised by the shape that human meanness will sometimes take. At a side table was seated Funk's special satellite--the baker Lerz, of Hollerberg. He was accompanied by his wife, and both looked about them with an air of serene contentment. The baker was a sensual, self-complacent man, who had a habit of smiling and moving his lips, as if he were smacking them at the thoughts of a feast he had just been enjoying. He had just been involved in an unclean piece of business, in which he had sworn that he was innocent, although, according to my conviction and the general belief, he had perjured himself in so doing. But what does such an unconscionable voluptuary care for that? When the peril was passed, all care was at an end. The baker approached me and inquired if I would like to ride home with him; for the government levies had rendered it difficult to obtain a conveyance. I declined; Fortunately, my neighbor, the young meadow farmer, who had been taking hay over to the railway station, was passing by at the time, and so I rode home with him. A little way out of the town, we came up with a young woman who was walking along the road. She had covered her head with a large white kerchief, and was carrying an infant in her arms. Her head was bent forward; and it is generally a sign of deep thought if one who is walking along a road does not look around at the rapid approach of a vehicle. And this woman was Lerz's victim. The meadow farmer, who was, usually, a man of few words, leaned back from his seat on the front bench, and whispered to me, "Such a fellow as Lerz ought not to be permitted to take an oath." The meadow farmer had for a long while been my worst enemy, simply because I had deprived him of his greatest enjoyment--venting his spite on others.