Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - The Zather Dale.
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The Zather Dale.
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Evertything was in order, the carriage
examined, even a whip with a good lash was
not forgotten. “Two whips would be best,”
said the ironmonger, who sold it, and the
ironmonger was a man of experienee, which
travellers often are not. A whole bag full of
“slanter” – that is, copper coins of small value
– stood before us for bridge-money, for beggars,
for shepherd’s boys, or whoever might open the
many field-gates for us that obstructed our
progress. But we had to do this ourselves, for
the rain pattered down and lashed the ground;
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