sture of satisfaction towards it with one hand, and said, pleasantly,
"It won't get here to-day." Then he sat him down in front of his door,
and, lolling his pipe out of the corner of his mouth, looked on in calm
enjoyment, while the coachman cursed and swore at the four horses on the
far-extending dike. The lumbering old vehicle on its high springs swayed
to and fro from time to time, as if it were on the point of toppling
over, but a couple of men kept close to it on each side, and, whenever a
jolt came, they clung heavily on to the steps to keep it steady, and
when it stuck fast in mud up to the axles of the wheels, and the horses
came to a standstill, they would, first of all, shout till they were
husky at the horses, and then, buckling to, dig the whole conveyance out
with sticks and staves, raise the wheels, clean out the spokes, which
had been converted into a solid mass of mud, and then proceed
triumphantly a few paces further.

Mr. Peter Bus regarded the dangers of others in the spirit of a true
predestinarian. Frantic cries and the cracking of whips reached his ears
from time to time, but what business was it of his? It is true he had
four good horses of his own, by the aid of which he might have dragged
the coming guests out of the mud in the twinkling of an eye, but why
should he? If it were written in the Book of Fate that the carriage
would safely arrive at the _csarda_, it _would_ arrive, but if it were
preordained to stick fast in the mud and remain there till dawn, then
stick fast it must, and it would be wrong to cut athwart the ways of
Providence.

And at last all four wheels stuck so fast in the mud in the middle of
the dam that it was impossible to move either backwards or forwards. The
men were hoarse with shouting, the harness was rent to pieces, the
horses lay down in the mud, and the weather began to grow beautifully
dark. Mr. Peter Bus, with a lightened heart, knocked the ashes of his
pipe-bowl into the palm of his hand. Thank God! no guest will come
to-day, and his heart rejoiced as, passing through the door, he
perceived the empty coach-house, in which his little family of poultry,
all huddled up together for the night, was squabbling sociably. He
himself ordered the whole of his household to bed, for candles were
dear, put out the fire, and stretching himself at his ease on his
_bunda_, chuckled comfortably behind his lighted pipe, and fell
reflecting on the folly of people travelling anywh