Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1895-12-05
POTSDAM AND IT'S PALACES.
Lederer's Impressions of Fred
erick the Great and Others.
The Kings idea of a aJoke-NightmarIsh
Observation-Disclosures Foot Gear
The Artist Observation-Disclosures
Idea of Rapid Transit.
COPYRIGHT, 1904


Tho sun has set in the west with n
duh sickening-no, that won't do. 1t
is a dark night The fragrant moon has
retreated behind a murky cloud; the
modest stars, though not exactly con-
cealed from view, are hardly what you
might call-well, at any rate, it is a
dark night. This doesn't sound
enough like scoop-that's so, it's
word painting. Word-painting may
not be in my line, but I'll make one more
stab at It, I'll take fresh start.
1t is the Berlin express from Magde-
burg and still further west. Swiftly
on its glittering track it has sped
throuhg the dispiriting suburbs of the
old cathedral town until, the open
country reached, the scene grows more
exhilarating. By the wayside a herd
of swine, unchaperoned, amiably
munich their evening repast. Town
after town, each with name sugges-
tive of Il fine brand of kase, of wurst,
or mayhap of beer laden tankard, is
passed with rattling swish. Not
stop, not even a semicolon. Even
stately old Brandenburg-on-t -Havel,
midst river-made lakes and musty
memories of long dead, world-famed
margraves, is passed with scarcely
nod from the burly locomotive-fuhrer.
The pink-and-white lieutenant in the
corduroy seat (for it is second-class
compartment, fact the corduroy up
holstering denotes) flips from off
the lapel OF the fire-gray overcoat tiny
cinder speck.
1t Is great strain for him to lean
over his high redcloth collar and aim
at the spot where the cinder is. He
must have felt iteflrop there.
The first stop of this lightning ex-
press will be at Potsdam, my alightine
place. The speed of the train is SO
great that the passengers are struck
with awe at their own swift flight The
speed almost equals that made by all
American milk train on a Wisconsin
branch line.
Dusk comes apace. l have authori-
ties to prove it. Twinkling stars be-
gin to appear in the boundless space
above-space almost as boundless as
that which am writing against.
Sol, like cleaning copper target, is
slowly sinking, filling the western sky
with lurid flame; the black tree tops
are silhouetted against the glare like
the spires and pinnacles of burning
city. The passenger at The east win
dow of the compartment comes to life
and lights tobacco torch, which al
first burns with blue flame, then turns
to orange, and this expiring, the torch
smolders on sputteringly.
The nir Is divinely still, as If nature
held her breath to watch the glory OF
dying day. Perhaps it is the cigar.
The lieutenant discovers that the left
lobe of his mustache is off it's perpen-
dicular. He arranges the matter to
the intense relief of himself and the
minor specimens of humanity who
have the honored felicity of sharing
the corduroy compartment with so il
lustrious a person.
just above the carnation of the sky
line a sea of mackerel green leaves the
golden coastline of buff cloud conti-
nent.
Still the sun sinks.
My heart and soul are absorbed in
the Kaleidoscope transmutation of
form and color still dimly visible under
the veil of night.
The squeak, squeak, of the locomo-
tive whistle. Housetops, turrets and
church spires! A dome appears. The