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Updated: April 30, 2025
There being no one to question or molest us, we pass on, and in a few moments are at our landing-place, a short flight of stone steps leading to the Vorsetzen or quay. Tom moors his boat with a grave celerity, leads the way up the stone steps on to the quay, and as speedily disappears down a sort of trap which gapes in the open street, in the immediate vicinity of the landing-place.
There is no lack of churches; we see their tapering steeples and deep gable roofs rising above the general level in many places, and there is a Little Bethel down by the water’s side on the Vorsetzen, for the sailors.
Let him alone; Tom knows the way. We follow him down an almost perpendicular flight of stairs into a spirit kellar, and gratify Tom’s little propensity for ardent liquors. Tom has disappeared, and is now paddling his way back to the “Glory,” and we stand upon the humble water-terrace, the Vorsetzen, looking out upon the shipping. It is a still, bright, Sunday afternoon in September.
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