I now resolved to be more cautious in my choice of cabs. Long I strolled about the streets, keeping an eye on all the stopping-places I passed, until at last I beheld a young second-class cab-driver, who, as soon as he saw my gaze fixed upon him, leaped with jerky haste upon his box.
“At last,” I said to myself while getting in, “this is a genuine wide-awake Berlin cab-driver, such as I want.”
I tested his conversational powers with two or three casual remarks—my efforts were crowned with success. I told him to drive to the Thiergarten, as the most favourable place to listen undisturbed to his communications.
As we Were jolting along the streets I silently gazed at my charioteer, who was enthroned with more audacity than grace side-wise upon his box, so that I could see his profile; I noticed certain dark shadows in his face, which looked as if he had inadvertently come into close contact with a boot-brush.
As soon as we had reached the shady precincts of the Thiergarten the sluices of his eloquence were opened, and indeed this worthy youth repaid me for all that I had heretofore missed.
“How is business going on?” I asked.
“Well, it’s only just going so-so,” he replied, “but up to last week it was going fine; we’ve had the whole town to sweep.”
“Sweep?” I asked, somewhat puzzled.
“Well yes, you see,” he said, “that’s because all winter folks had to sit at home and have a fire, and now, you see, it’s warm again——”
“Aha,—I understand,” I interrupted; a rare point this for my note-book: “The second-class cab-driver manifests a surprising aptitude for simile; when the awaking spring-time entices men to leave their dark houses and entrust themselves to his vehicle, he expresses this by saying that he has swept the whole town.”