THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
and then the “Schützenkönig” of the previous year. The king wore upon his hat a crown of gold tinsel and artificial flowers, and around his neck a silver chain, from which were suspended silver shields, the size of a hand, with the engraved names of the kings of at least a hundred years back. The shields covered the king's shoulders and breast and back, giving him a gorgeous appearance. His Majesty was followed by the marksmen, with their rifles on their shoulders, the remainder of the population, old and young, bringing up the rear. Arrived at the green, the procession marched three times around the tree upon which the pole was fastened, halted, knelt down and repeated the Lord's Prayer. Then the drummer beat the roll, the ex-king hung his crown and chain upon the branch of a tree, and after the old men and the women members of the society, who could not themselves fire rifles, had chosen among the sharpshooters present those who were to represent them, the shooting began. The drummer watched each shot with close attention, for it was his duty to beat a roll every time that the bird was hit. When that roll was particularly vigorous the rifleman who had fired the shot rewarded the drummer with a glass of wine, and it must be confessed that with every glass the good man's face grew redder and his drumbeats wilder. The multitude, which meanwhile had scattered among the booths where sweetmeats, wine and beer were sold, crowded again around the marksmen as soon as the wooden bird began to splinter. From minute to minute the excitement rose; ancient-looking telescopes were raised to discover the weak spots on the bird, and the suspense became breathless when, as often happened, only a small ragged bit of wood remained on the top of the pole and the next well-aimed shot might decide the day. Finally, when the last bit fell, the drummer beat the most terrible of his rolls,
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