THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
archives, deep down under one of the towers, and confided all the belongings he left behind him to my grandfather's safekeeping. I could see one of the great Napoleon's generals ride through the gate, filling the court with brilliantly uniformed horsemen, and take up his quarters in the great house. When my grandfather's narrative reached the period of the departure of the French and the arrival of the Cossacks he became specially animated. Then it was that the castle people had to hide in the depths of the forest all their horses and wagons, cows, sheep and pigs, lest they should fall a prey to either the retreating French or to the advancing Russians. Time and again I made him describe the Cossacks. They ate tallow candles and ransacked the house and stables for spirits. Finding none, they threatened to use force with my grandmother; whereupon my grandfather knocked a few of them down, and was much surprised that none of their comrades came to their help. When the search for “schnapps,” however, continued, my grandmother hit upon the happy idea of filling a barrel with vinegar, to which she added a large quantity of mustard and pepper-seeds and a little alcohol. This brew, which would have burned like fire in the throats of ordinary mortals, the Cossacks praised highly; moreover, it seemed to agree with them. With all their devilishness they possessed a God-fearing sense, for whenever they were planning an especial mischief they would carefully cover the eyes of the crucifix on the wall so that the good Lord might not see the sin that they were about to commit.
Stories like these were told me over and over, and elaborated to suit my endless questions and my insatiable craving to know more; so that before I could read or write my grandfather's stirring recollections had etched into my mind a very fair impression of the Napoleonic wars, so closely compli-
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