ndeed, become brothers. This kind of familiarity was
after the way of the world, but he could not obtain the acknowledgment
of family association conveyed by the terms "uncle" and "cousin;" and
even if allied to them by marriage, he was not admitted to their
relationship unless he were of noble race. Their children went about in
tatters; their wives sometimes collected provisions from relations, and
they themselves trotted over the stubble on shaggy horses, in old
greatcoats, with a bit of carved wood instead of a second pistol in the
old holster. Their usual place of rest was at the village tavern, or,
if they came to a town, in the worst inn. Their language was coarse,
full of stable expressions and oaths. They had adopted many of the
usages of the rogues, both in language and habits; they smelt of
"_finckeljochen_" (a bad kind of spirit) more than was agreeable to
others. They were, indeed, ragamuffins; and, with all their pugnacity,
without real courage. They were considered the pest of the country, and
those who had anything to lose compared them to bluebottle-flies; more
than once sharp decrees[51] were issued against them by the different
rulers, and even from the Imperial court, but they were,
notwithstanding, haughty and thoroughly aristocratic-minded fellows.
Their genealogy, their escutcheons, and their family connection were to
them the highest things upon earth. Unbounded was the hate and contempt
with which they regarded the rich citizens; they were always ready to
begin a quarrel with the newly ennobled, if they did not give them
their full titles, or presumed to bear a coat of arms similar to their
own.

The following account will make us better acquainted with these
fellows, and their mode of intercourse. It carries us to the right bank
of the Oder in Silesia, a corner of Germany where "_Krippenreiterei_"
was particularly bad. There, according to an old popular jest, the
devil burst the sack when he endeavoured to carry off in the air a
number of "_Krippenreiters_," and thus emptied out the whole rubbish on
this district.

The following description is taken from the narrative entitled "The
Nobleman," written a few years before his death, by Paul Winckler, a
Silesian, political agent and councillor at Breslau of the great
Elector; he died 1686. The narrative was first published after his
death in two editions, and finally at Nueremberg, 1697-8. There is no
great skill or invention in it, but it is the