s, and not until much later did we know that
those wonderful things, with only a fat man to move them, were electric
cars.

The sightseeing was not all on our side. I noticed many people stopping
to look at us as if amused, though most passed by as though used to such
sights. We did make a queer appearance all in a long row, up above
people's heads. In fact, we looked like a flock of giant fowls roosting,
only wide awake.

Suddenly, when everything interesting seemed at an end, we all
recollected how long it was since we had started on our funny ride.
Hours, we thought, and still the horses ran. Now we rode through quieter
streets where there were fewer shops and more wooden houses. Still the
horses seemed to have but just started. I looked over our perch again.
Something made me think of a description I had read of criminals being
carried on long journeys in uncomfortable things--like this? Well, it
was strange--this long, long drive, the conveyance, no word of
explanation, and all, though going different ways, being packed off
together. We were strangers; the driver knew it. He might take us
anywhere--how could we tell? I was frightened again as in Berlin. The
faces around me confessed the same.

The streets became quieter still; no shops, only little houses; hardly
any people passing. Now we cross many railway tracks and I can hear the
sea not very distant. There are many trees now by the roadside, and the
wind whistles through their branches. The wheels and hoofs make a great
noise on the stones, the roar of the sea and the wind among the branches
have an unfriendly sound.

The horses never weary. Still they run. There are no houses now in view,
save now and then a solitary one, far away. I can see the ocean. Oh, it
is stormy. The dark waves roll inward, the white foam flies high in the
air; deep sounds come from it. The wheels and hoofs make a great noise;
the wind is stronger, and says, "Do you hear the sea?" And the ocean's
roar threatens. The sea threatens, and the wind bids me hear it, and the
hoofs and the wheels repeat the command, and so do the trees, by
gestures.

Yes, we are frightened. We are very still. Some Polish women over there
have fallen asleep, and the rest of us look such a picture of woe, and
yet so funny, it is a sight to see and remember.

At last, at last! Those unwearied horses have stopped. Where? In front
of a brick building, the only one on a large, broad street, where only
the tr