The Anaconda standard. [volume] (Anaconda, Mont.) 1889-1970, 1895-11-08

ter town. each with a name sugges live
OF fine brand of kase. of wurst, or
hayhop OF beer laden tankard, is pass
ed with a rafting swish. Not a stop,
not even semicolon. Even stately
old Brandenburg-on-th midst
river made lakes and musiy memories
of long dead. world-famed margraves,
is passed with scarcely a nod from the
burly locomotive furher.
The pink and white lieutenant in the
corduroy seat (for II is a second class
compartment. a fact the corduroy up
holstering denotes) filps from off the
lapel OF the fire grey overcoat a 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 IL drop there.
The first stop of this lightning ex-
press will be at Potsdam. my alighting
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 an
American milk train on a Wisconsin
branch line.
Dusk comes apace. / have authori-
ties TO prove It Twinkling stars begin
to appear in the boundless space above
space almost as boundless as that
Sol. like a 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 a burning
city. The passenger at the east win
dow Of the compartment comes to life
and lights a tobacco-torch, which at
first burns with a blue flame, then
turns to orange. and this expiring. the
torch smolders on sputteringly.
The air is divinely still as IL nature
held her breath to watch the glory of
the dying day. Perhaps II is the cigar.
The lieutenant discovers that the left
lobe of his mustache is off its 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 sea OF mackerel green laves the
golden coastline OF bum cloud conti-
nent.
Still the sun sinks.
/ drink I'm the beauty OF the cloud
scape. 1t Is all / care to drink. The
Munchener from the buffet is luke
warm and the color of coffee. My
pocket flask is in my satchel on the
rack over the head of a Wes;phalian
gentleman. who has cotton in his ears
and does not look like one who likes
TO be disturbed by strangers.
Little Of the gorgeous. fantastic sky
- left. only a streaked mass like a
rasher Of Chicago bacon.
Now the suns rays make one last ef-
fort for supremacy. and fash a rift In
the imprisoning cloud walls. Little
gold islands CLEAN in an almost emer-
aid sea.
The sea-green brightly appears again,
but softer and softer blended into an
orange that meI'ges into gold that dies
in saffron. A woman. all dumped. Is
still working in the fields. large
brown dog and little gray woman
are dragging a large cart overloaded
with farm products.
The last shreds OF crimson deepen
into mauve
The man next TO me calls the waiter
boy and pays for two schooners "a NJ
gives the boy one and one-fourth of a
cent as a tip. The boy thanks him
with evident sincerity.
Ny heart and soul are absorbed in
the Kaleidoscope transmutation of
form and color still dimly visible I'M
der the veil OF night.
The squeak. squeak. of the locomo-
tive whistle. Housetops. turrets and
church spires. A dome appears. The
discordant clamor OF a railway station
and my golden reverie Is shattered.
We are at Potsdam. / must get a
"Dienstmann" TO take my "Gepacls'-
a porter 10 take my luggage.
Potsdami what "A name for a place
OF imperial residence. II had another
name once-POtsdaDimL. which meant
Under the Oaks" in-well some old
language-Slavic probably. / wonder
II II is reasonable 10 think that I'm
der-the-Oaks' sounds prettier than
Potsdam. Anyway it was POtsdap!mi