Page - 96 - in The Forest Farm - Tales of the Austrian Tyrol
Image of the Page - 96 -
Text of the Page - 96 -
“Not now, so we have taken the chain off her. My father says, ‘She has no
enemies now, she is just a mother now.’” But still, when he wanted to lift one
of the young ones, she snapped at his finger.
“Have you got a church?” I asked, for a little bell rang. Simmerl laughed,
for it was the house-bell, and it was calling people to supper.
In the room, where it was already nearly dark, stood two great square
tables. When grace had been said out loud by everybody and all together, and
the great big soup-tureens were sending up their warm, savoury clouds, about
twelve young men, older men, young girls and old women sat themselves
down to the one table. At the other table right in the corner the house-father
took his place, a stout, comfortable, cheerful man with a smooth-shaven face
and a double chin; then came his children, from the merry grown-up Sennerl
right down to Simmerl, and still further down to two quite tiny babies, who
had their milk-soup spooned into their little mouths by the servant-maid. I
was allowed to sit by Simmerl, and, because the common bowl was rather a
long way from us, we received a little special basin, out of which we ladled
the pieces. It was wheaten bread, which was not every day to be had at home
with us! The house-mother went to and fro, looking after the tables, and now
and then she sat down with us for a short time, just to eat a morsel as she
passed by. Ah, yes, that was like my mother at home. “Who cooks needs
nothing to eat,” say overwise people.
I was obliged to keep thinking of home, where just then they would be
waiting for me with supper, and wondering why that boy didn’t come home
and where he could possibly be. Then, probably, it would occur to one or
other of them, “Oh, he has gone home with his school-friend to Zutrum.”
After the milk-soup came a bowl of salad in vinegar. That again was
something new for me; at my home there was only salad in butter-milk, which
is acid and wet and can therefore well take the place of expensive vinegar. At
home we ate the greenstuff with a spoon, here one did it with a fork. I several
times stabbed my mouth with the strange tool, but dared make no noise;
whereas at home if such a thing happened there would have been a fine
outcry.
After the salad came the largest dish of all, and this contained stewed
cherries in their own juice. Now I might use the spoon again. If only it had
been a bit bigger—for this black cherry stew was delicious! The company
was very ceremonious. They squeezed the stones out of their mouths and put
them back either on to a plate or into their fists. At home we ate the stones
with the cherries.
I do not know what was talked about at table, and I was certainly quite
The Forest Farm
Tales of the Austrian Tyrol
- Title
- The Forest Farm
- Subtitle
- Tales of the Austrian Tyrol
- Author
- Peter Rosegger
- Publisher
- The Vineyard Press
- Location
- London
- Date
- 1912
- Language
- English
- License
- PD
- Size
- 21.0 x 29.7 cm
- Pages
- 169
- Categories
- Geographie, Land und Leute
- International