{"id":4239,"date":"2019-03-27T03:23:52","date_gmt":"2019-03-27T03:23:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.incirliseviye.com\/?p=4239"},"modified":"2019-03-27T03:23:52","modified_gmt":"2019-03-27T03:23:52","slug":"captain-schlotterwerz-by-booth-tarkington","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/onhee.com\/?p=4239","title":{"rendered":"\u201cCaptain Schlotterwerz\u201d by Booth Tarkington"},"content":{"rendered":"

American novelist and Pulitzer Prize winner Newton Booth Tarkington has been heralded as one of the best authors of the 20th<\/sup> century. His work explored middle America and often romanticized the life of Midwesterners. In his story \u201cCaptain Schlotterwerz\u201d published in 1918, two German-Americans living in Cincinnati venture to Mexico to escape the tense political environment in the U.S.. <\/em><\/p>\n

Published January 26, 1918<\/em><\/p>\n

Miss Bertha Hitzel, of Cincinnati, reached the age of twenty-two upon the eleventh of May, 1915; and it was upon the afternoon of her birthday that for the first time in her life she saw her father pace the floor. Never before had she seen any agitation of his expressed so vividly; on the contrary, until the preceding year she had seldom known him to express emotion at all, and in her youthfulness she had sometimes doubted his capacity for much feeling. She could recall no hour of family stress that had caused him to weep, to become gesticulative or to lift his voice unusually. Even at the time of her mother\u2019s death he had been quiet to the degree of apparent lethargy.<\/p>\n

Characteristically a silent man, he was almost notorious for his silence. Everybody in Cincinnati knew old Fred Hitzel; at least there was a time when all the older business men either knew him or knew who he was. \u201cSleepy old Dutchman,\u201d they said of him tolerantly, meaning that he was a sleepy old German. \u201cFunny old cuss,\u201d they said. \u201cNever says anything he doesn\u2019t just plain haf to \u2014 but he saws wood, just the same! Put away a good many dollars before he quit the wholesale grocery business \u2014 must be worth seven or eight hundred thousand, maybe a million. Always minded his own business, and square as a dollar. You\u2019d think he was stingy, he\u2019s so close with his talk; but he isn\u2019t. Any good charity can get all it wants out of old Fred, and he\u2019s always right there with a subscription for any public movement. A mighty good hearted old Dutchman he is; and a mighty good citizen too. Wish we had a lot more just like him!\u201d<\/p>\n

His daughter was his only child and they had a queer companionship. He had no children by his first wife; Bertha was by his second, whom he married when he was fifty-one; and the second Mrs. Hitzel died during the daughter\u2019s fourteenth year, just as Bertha was beginning to develop into that kind of blond charmfulness which shows forth both delicate and robust; a high colored damsel whose color could always become instantly still higher. Her tendency was to be lively; and her father humored her sprightliness as she grew up by keeping out of the way so artfully that to her friends who came to the house he seemed to be merely a mythical propriety of Bertha\u2019s.<\/p>\n

But father and daughter were nevertheless closely sympathetic and devoted, and the daughter found nothing indifferent to herself in his habitual seeming to be a man half asleep. He would sit all of an evening, his long upper eyelids drooping so far that only a diamond chip of lamplight reflection beneath them showed that his eyes were really open \u2014 for him \u2014 and he would puff at the cigar, protruding between his mandarin\u2019s mustache and his shovel beard, not more than twice in a quarter of an hour, yet never letting the light go out completely; and all the while he would speak not a word, though Bertha chattered gayly to him or read the newspaper aloud. Sometimes, at long intervals, he might make a faint hissing sound for comment or, when the news of the day was stirring, as at election times, he might grunt a little, not ungenially. Bertha would be pleased then to think that her reading had brought him to such a pitch of vociferation.<\/p>\n

The change in old Fred Hitzel began to be apparent early in August, 1914; and its first symptoms surprised his daughter rather pleasantly; next, she was astonished without the pleasure; then she became troubled and increasingly apprehensive. He came home from his German club on the afternoon when it was known that the last of the forts at Liege had fallen and he dragged a chair to an open window, where he established himself, perspiring and breathing heavily under his fat. But Bertha came and closed the window.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll catch cold, papa,\u201d she said. \u201cYour face is all red in spots, and you better cool off with a fan before you sit in a draft. Here!\u201d And she placed a palm leaf fan in his hand. \u201coughtn\u2019t to have walked home in the sun.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t walked,\u201dsaid Mr. Hitzel. \u201cIt was a trolley. You heert some noose?\u201d
\nShe nodded. \u201cI bought an extra; there\u2019re plenty extras these days!\u201d
\nHer father put the fan down upon his lap and rubbed his hands; he was in great spirits. \u201cDose big guns!\u201d he said. \u201cBy Cheemuny, dose big guns make a hole big as a couple houses! Badoom! Nutting in the worlt can stop dose big guns of the Cherman Army. Badoom! She goes off. Efer\u2019ting got to fall down! By Cheemuny, I would like to hear dose big guns once yet!\u201d<\/p>\n

Bertha gave a little cry of protest and pretended to stop her ears. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t! I don\u2019t care to be deaf for life, thank you! I don\u2019t think you really would, either, papa.\u201d She laughed. \u201cYou didn\u2019t take an extra glass of Rhine wine down at the club, did you, papa?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOne cless,\u201d he said. \u201cAs utsual. Alwiss one cless. Takes me one hour. Chust. Why?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause\u201d \u2014 she laughed again \u2014 \u201dit just seemed to me I never saw you so excited.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cExcidut?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt must be hearing about those big German guns, I guess. Look! You\u2019re all flushed up, and don\u2019t cool off at all.\u201d<\/p>\n

Old Fred\u2019s flush deepened, in fact; and his drooping eyelids twitched as with the effort to curtain less of his vision. \u201cLitsen, Bairta,\u201d he said. \u201cPutty soon, when the war gits finished, we should go to New York and hop on dat big Vaterland steamship and git off in Antvorp; maybe Calais. We rent us a ottomobile and go visit all dose battlevielts in Belchun; we go to Liege \u2014 all ofer \u2014 and we look and see for ourselfs what dose fine big guns of the Cherman Army done. I want to see dose big holes. I want to see it most in the work. Badoom! Such a \u2014 such a power!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I declare!\u201d his daughter cried.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI declare, I don\u2019t think I ever heard you talk so much before in my whole life!\u201d<\/p>\n

Old Fred chuckled. \u201cBadoom!\u201d he said. \u201cI guess dat\u2019s some talkin\u2019, ain\u2019t it? Dose big guns knows how to talk! Badoom! Hoopee!\u201d<\/p>\n

And this talkativeness of his, though coming so late in his life, proved to be not a mood but a vein. Almost every day he talked, and usually a little more than he had talked the day before \u2014 but not always with so much gusto as he had displayed concerning the great guns that reduced Liege. One afternoon he was indignant when Bertha quoted friends of hers who said that the German Army had no rightful business in Belgium.<\/p>\n

\u201cEnglish lovers!\u201d he said. \u201cLook at a map once, what tellss you in miles. It ain\u2019t no longer across Belchun from dat French Frontier to Chermany except about from here to Dayton. How can Chermany take such a chance once, and leaf such a place all open? Subbose dey done it: English Army and French Army can easy walk straight to Aix and Essen, and Chermany could git her heart stab, like in two minutes! Ach-o! Cherman Army knows too much for such a foolishness. What for you want to listen to talkings from Chonny Bulls?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo; they weren\u2019t English lovers, papa,\u201d Bertha said. \u201cThey were Americans, just as much as I am. It was over at the Thompson girls\u2019, and there were some other people there too. They were all talking the same way, and I could hardly stand it; but I didn\u2019t know what to say.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat to say!\u201d he echoed. \u201cI guess you could called \u2018em a pile o\u2019 Chonny Bulls, couldn\u2019t you once? Stickin\u2019 up for Queen Wictoria and turn-up pants legs because it\u2019s raining in London!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she said, thoughtful and troubled. \u201cI don\u2019t think they care anything particularly about the English, papa. At least, they didn\u2019t seem to.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo? Well, what for they got to go talkin\u2019 so big on the English site, please answer once!\u201d<\/p>\n

Bertha faltered. \u201cWell, it was \u2014 most of it was about Louvain.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLouvain! I hear you!\u201d he said. \u201cListen, Bairta! Who haf you got in Chermany?\u201d<\/p>\n

She did not understand. \u201cYou mean what do I know about Germany?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d he answered emphatically. \u201cYou don\u2019t know nutting about Chermany. You can\u2019t speak it, efen; not so good as six years olt you could once. I mean: Who belongs to you in Chermany? I mean relations. Name of \u2018em is all you know: Ludwig, Gustave, Albrecht, Kurz. But your cousins chust de ramie \u2014 first cousins \u2014 my own sister Minna\u2019s boys. Well, you seen her letters; you know what kind of chilten she\u2019s got. Fine boys! Our own blut \u2014 closest kin we got. Peoble same as the best finest young men here in Cincinneti. Well, Albert and Gustave and Kurz is efer\u2019one in the Cherman Army, and Louie is offizier, Cherman Navy. My own nephews, ain\u2019t it? Well, we don\u2019t know where each one keeps now, yet; maybe fightin\u2019 dose Russishens; maybe marchin\u2019 into Paris; maybe some of \u2018em is at Louvain!<\/p>\n

\u201cSubbose it was Louvain \u2014 subbose Gustave or Kurz is one of dose Chermans of Louvain. You subbose one of dose boys do somet\u2019ing wrong? No! If he hat to shoot and burn, it\u2019s because he hat to, ain\u2019t it? Well, whatefer Chermans was at Louvain, they are the same good boys as Minna\u2019s boys, ain\u2019t it? You hear Chonny Bull site of it, I tell you. You bedder wait and git your noose from Chermany, Bairta. From Chermany we git what is honest. From Chonny Bull all lies!\u201d<\/p>\n

But Bertha\u2019s trouble was not altogether alleviated. \u201cPeople talk just dreadfully,\u201d she sighed. \u201cSometimes \u2014 why, sometimes you\u2019d think, to hear them, it was almost a disgrace to be a German!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKeeb owt from \u2018em!\u201d her father returned testily. \u201cQuit goin\u2019 near \u2018em. Me? I make no attention!\u201d<\/p>\n

Yet as the days went by he did make some attention. The criticisms of Germany that he heard indignantly repeated at his club worried him so much that he talked about them at considerable length after he got home; and there were times, as Bertha read the Enquirer to him, when he would angrily bid her throw the paper away. Finally, he stopped his subscription and got his news entirely from a paper printed in the German language. Nevertheless, he could not choose but hear and see a great deal that displeased and irritated him. There were a few members of his club \u2014 citizens of German descent \u2014 who sometimes expressed uneasiness concerning the right of Germany to be in Belgium; others repeated what was said about town and in various editorials about the Germans; and Bertha not infrequently was so distressed by what she heard among her friends that she appealed to him for substantiation of defenses she had made.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy, papa, you\u2019d think I\u2019d said something wrong!\u201d she told him one evening. \u201cAnd sometimes I almost get to thinking that they don\u2019t like me anymore. Mary Thompson said she thought I ought to be in jail, just because I said the Kaiser always tried to do whatever he thought was right.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hitzel nodded. \u201cAnyway, while Chermany is at war I guess we stick up for him. Kaisers I don\u2019t care; my fotter was a shtrong Kaiser hater, and so am I. Nobody hates Kaisers worse \u2014 until the big war come. I don\u2019t want no Kaisers nor Junkers \u2014 I am putty shtrong ratical, Bairta \u2014 but the Kaiser, he\u2019s right for once yet, anyhow. Subbose he didn\u2019t make no war when Chermany was attackdut; Chermany would been swallowed straight up by Cossacks and French. For once he\u2019s right, yes. You subbose the Cherman peoble let him sit in his house and say nutting while Cossacks and French chasseurs go killing peoble all ofer Chermany? If Chermany is attackdut, Kaiser\u2019s got to declare war; Kaiser\u2019s got to fight, don\u2019t he?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMary Thompson said it was Germany that did the attacking, papa. She said the Kaiser \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

But her father interrupted her with a short and sour laugh. \u201cFawty yearss peace,\u201dhe said. \u201cFawty yearss peace in Europe! Cherman peoble is peaceful peoble more as any peoble \u2014 but you got to let \u2018em lif! Kaiser\u2019s got no more to do makin\u2019 war as anybody else in Chermany. You keep away from dose Mary Thompsons!\u201d<\/p>\n

But keeping away from the Mary Thompsons availed little; Bertha was not an ostrich, and if she had been one closing eyes and ears could not have kept her from the consciousness of what distressed her. The growing and intensifying disapproval of Germany was like a thickening of the very air, and the pressure of it grew heavier upon both daughter and father, so that old Hitzel began to lose flesh a little and Bertha worried about him. And when, upon the afternoon of her birthday \u2014 the eleventh of May, 1915 \u2014 he actually paced the floor, she was frightened.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut, papa, you mustn\u2019t let yourself get so excited. she begged him. \u201cLet\u2019s quit talking about all this killing and killing and killing. Oh, I get so tired of thinking about fighting! I want to think about this lovely wrist watch you gave me for my birthday. Come on; let\u2019s talk about that, and don\u2019t get so excited!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t git so excidut!\u201d he mocked her bitterly. \u201cNo! Chust sit down and smoke, and trink cless Rhine wine, maybe! Who\u2019s goin\u2019 to stop eckting some excidut, I guess not, efter I litsen by Otto Schultze sit in a clob and squeal he\u2019s scairt to say how gled he is Lusitania got blowed up, because it would be goin\u2019 to inchur his bissnuss I He wants whole clob to eckt a hippsicrit; p\u2019tent we don\u2019t feel no gladness about blowin\u2019 up Lusitania!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not glad, papa,\u201d Bertha said. \u201cIt may be wrong, but I can\u2019t be. All those poor people in the water \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cChonny Bulls!\u201d he cried. \u201cSittin\u2019 on a million bullets for killin\u2019 Cherman solchers! Chonny Bulls!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no! That\u2019s the worst of it! There were over a hundred Americans, papa.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAmericans!\u201d he bitterly jibed. \u201cYou call dose people Americans? Chonny Bulls, I tell you; Chonny Bulls and English lovers! Where was it Lusitania is goin\u2019 at? England! What bissnuss Americans got in Eng land? On a ship filt up to his neck all gunpowder and bullets to kill Chermans! Well, it seems to me if it\u2019s any American bissnuss to cuss Chermans because Chermans blow up such a murder ship I must be goin\u2019 gracy! Look here once, Bairta! i Your own cousin Louie \u2014 ain\u2019t he in the Cherman Navy? He\u2019s a submarine offizier, I don\u2019t know. Subbose he should be, maybe he\u2019s the feller blows up Lusitania! You t\u2019ink it should be Louie who does somet\u2019ing wrong? He\u2019s a mudderer if it\u2019s him, yes? I guess not!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhoever it was, of course he only obeyed orders,\u201d Bertha said gloomily.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, whoefer gif him dose orders,\u201d Hitzel cried, \u201cain\u2019t he got right? By golly, I belief United States is all gracy except peoble descendut from Chermans. Chust litsen to \u2018em! Look at hetlines in noosepapers; look at bulletin boarts! A feller can\u2019t go nowhere; he can\u2019t git away from it. Damn Chermans! Damn Chermans! Damn Chermans! You can\u2019t git away from it nowhere! Chermansis mudderers! Chermans kills leetle bebbies! Chermans kills woman! coocify humanity! Nowhere you go you git away from all such English lies! Peoble chanche faces when they heppen to look at you, because maybe you got a Chermanlookin\u2019 face! Bairta, I yoos to love my country, but by Gott I feel sometimes we can\u2019t stay here no longer! It\u2019s too much!\u201d<\/p>\n

She had begun to weep a little. \u201cPapa, let\u2019s do talk about something else! Can\u2019t we talk about something else?\u201d He paid no attention, but continued to waddle up and down the room at the best pace of which he was capable. \u201cIt\u2019s too much!\u201d he said, over and over.<\/p>\n

The long \u201ccrisis\u201d that followed the Lusitania\u2019s anguish abated Mr. Hitzel\u2019s agitations not at all; and having learned how to pace a floor he paced it more than once. He paced that floor whenever the newspapers gave evidence of one of those recurrent out bunts of American anger and disgust caused by the Germans\u2019 of poison gas and liquid fire or by Zeppelin murders of noncombatants.<\/p>\n

He paced it after the Germans in Belgium killed Edith Cavell; and he paced it when Bryce reports were published; and the accounts of the deportations into slavery were confessed by the Germans to be true; and he paced it when the Arabic was torpedoed; he walked more than two hours on that day when the President’s first Sussex note was published.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow,\u201d he demanded of Bertha, \u201cyou tell me what your Mary Thompsons says now? Mary Thompsons want Wilson to git in a war, pickin\u2019 on Chermany alwiss? You ask \u2018em: What your Mary Thompsons says the United States should make a war because bullet factories don\u2019t git quick rich enough, is it? What she says? \u201cI don\u2019t see her anymore,\u201d Bertha told him, her sensitive color deepening. \u201cFor one thing \u2014 Well, I guess you heard about Francis; that\u2019s Mary\u2019s brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Hitzel frowned. \u201cFrancis? It\u2019s the tall feller our hired girls says they alwiss hat to be letting in the front door? Sendut all so much flowers and tee-a-ters? Him?\u201d Bertha had grown pink indeed. \u201cYes,\u201d she said. \u201cI don\u2019t see any of that crowd any more, papa, except just to speak to on the street sometimes; and we just barely speak, at that. I couldn\u2019t go to their houses and listen to what they said \u2014 or else they\u2019d all stop what they had been saying whenever I came round. I couldn\u2019t stand it. Francis \u2014 Mary\u2019s brother that we just spoke of \u2014 he\u2019s gone to France, driving an ambulance. It kind of seems to me now as if probably they never, any of that crowd, did like me \u2014 not much, anyway; I guess maybe just because I was from Germans.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHah!\u201d Old Fred uttered a loud and bitter exclamation. \u201cYes; now you see it! Ain\u2019t it so? Whoefer is from Chermans now is bat peoble, all dose Mary Thompsons says. Yoos to be comicks peoble, Chermans. Look in all olt comicks pabers \u2014 alwiss you see Chermans is jeckesses! Dummhets! Cherman fools was the choke part in funny shows! Alwiss make fun of Chermans; make fun of how Chermans speak English lengwitch; make fun of Cherman lengwitch; make fun of Cherman face and body; Chermans ain\u2019t got no mannerss; ain\u2019t got no sense; ain\u2019t got nutting but stomachs! Alwiss the Chermans was nutting in this country but to laugh at \u2018em! Why should it be, if ain\u2019t because they chust disspise us? By Gott, they say, Chermans is clowns! Clowns; it\u2019s what they yoos to call us! Now we are mudderers! It\u2019s too much, I tell you! It\u2019s too much! I am goin\u2019 to git out of the country. It\u2019s too much! It\u2019s too much! It\u2019s too much!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess you\u2019re right,\u201d Bertha said with quiet bitterness. \u201cI never thought about it before the war, but it does look now as though they never liked anybody that was from Germans. I used to think they did \u2014 until the war; and they still do seem to like some people with German names and that take the English side. That crowd I went with, they always seemed to think the English and French side was the American side. Well, I don\u2019t care what they think.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook here, Bairta,\u201d said old Fred sharply. \u201cYou litsen! When Mitster Francis Thompsons gits home again from French em\u2019ulances, you don\u2019t allow him in our house, you be careful. He don\u2019t git to come here no more, you litsen!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she said. \u201cYou needn\u2019t be afraid about that, papa. We got into an argument, and he was through coming long before he left, anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, he won\u2019t git no chance to argue at you when he gits beck,\u201dsaid her father. \u201cI reckon we ain\u2019t in the U. S. putty soon. It\u2019s too much!\u201d<\/p>\n

Bertha was not troubled by his talk of departure from the country; she heard it too often to believe in it, and she told Evaline, their darky cook \u2014 who sometimes overheard things and grew nervous about her place \u2014 that this threat of Mr. Hitzel\u2019s was just letting off steam. Bertha was entirely unable to imagine her father out of Cincinnati.<\/p>\n

But in March of 1917 he became so definite in preparation as to have two excellent new trunks sent to the house; also he placed before Bertha the results of some correspondence which he had been conducting; whereupon Bertha, excited and distressed, went to consult her mother\u2019s cousin, Robert Konig, in the \u201coffice\u201d of his prosperous \u201cHardware Products Corporation.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Bertha, it\u2019s like this way with me,\u201d said Mr. Konig. \u201cI am for Germany when it\u2019s a case of England fighting against Germany, and I wish our country would keep out of it. But it don\u2019t look like that way now; I think we are going sure to fight Germany. And when it comes to that I ain\u2019t on no German side, you bet! My two boys, they\u2019ll enlist the first day it\u2019s declared, both of \u2018em; and if the United States Government wants me to go, too, I\u2019ll say Yes\u2019 quick. But your papa, now, it\u2019s different. After never saying anything at all for seventy odd years, he\u2019s got started to be a talker, and he\u2019s talked pretty loud, and I wouldn\u2019t be surprised if he wouldn\u2019t know how to keep his mouth shut any more. He talks too much, these days. Of course all his talk don\u2019t amount to so much hot air, and it wouldn\u2019t ever get two cents\u2019 worth of influence, but people maybe wouldn\u2019t think about that. It might be ugly times ahead, and he could easy get into trouble. After all, I wouldn\u2019t worry, Bertha; it\u2019s nice in the wintertime to take a trip south.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTake a trip south!\u201d Bertha echoed. \u201cFlorida, yes! But Mexico \u2014 it\u2019s horrible!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, well, not all Mexico, probably,\u201d her cousin said consolingly. \u201cHe wouldn\u2019t take you where it\u2019s in a bad condition. Where does he want to go? \u201cIt\u2019s a little place, he says. I never heard of it; it\u2019s called Lupos, and he\u2019s been writing to a Mr. Helmholz that keeps the hotel there and says everything\u2019s fine, he\u2019s got rooms for us; and we should come down there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHelmholz,\u201d Mr. Konig repeated. \u201cYes; that should be Jake Helmholz that lived here once when he was a young man; he went to Mexico. He was Hilda\u2019s nephew \u2014 your papa\u2019s first wife\u2019s nephew, Bertha.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, that\u2019s who it is, papa said.\u201d Mr. Konig became reassuring.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, well, then, you see, I expect you\u2019ll find everything nice then, down there, Bertha. You\u2019ll be among relatives \u2014 almost the same \u2014 if your papa\u2019s fixed it up to go and stay at a hotel Jake Helmholz runs. I guess I shouldn\u2019t make any more objections if it\u2019s goin\u2019 to be like that, Bertha. You won\u2019t be near any revolutions, and I expect it\u2019ll be a good thing for your papa. He\u2019s too excited. Down there he can cuss Wilson as much as he pleases. Let him go and get it out of his system; he better cool off a little.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bertha happened to remember the form of this final bit of advice a month later as she unpacked her trunk in Jacob Helmholz\u2019s hotel in Lupos; and she laughed ruefully. Lupos, physically, was no place wherein to cool off in mid-April. The squat town, seen through the square windows of her room, wavered in a white heat. Over the top of a long chalky wall she could see a mule\u2019s ears slowly ambulating in a fog of bluish dust, and she made out a great peaked hat accompanying these ears through the dust; but nothing else alive seemed to move in the Luposine world except an unseen rooster\u2019s throat which, as if wound up by the heat, sent at almost symmetrical intervals a long cock-a-doodle into the still furnace of the air; the hottest sound, Bertha thought, that she had ever heard \u2014 hotter even than the sound of August locusts in Cincinnati trees.<\/p>\n

She found the exertion of unpacking difficult, yet did not regret that she had declined the help of a chambermaid. \u201cI\u2019m sure she\u2019s an Indian!\u201d she explained to her father. \u201cIt scared me just to look at her, and I wouldn\u2019t be able to stand an Indian waiting on me \u2014 never!\u201d<\/p>\n

He laughed and told her she must get used to the customs of the place. \u201cBesites,\u201d he said, \u201cit ain\u2019t so much we might see a couple Injuns around the house, maybe; it don\u2019t interfere, not so\u2019s a person got to notice. What makes me notice, it\u2019s how Jake Helmholz has got putty near a Cherman hotel out here so fur away. It beats efer\u2019 t\u2019ing! Pilsner on ice! From an ice plant like a little steamship\u2019s got. Cherman mottas downstairs on walls: Wer liebt nicht Wein, Weib and \u2014 He\u2019s got a lot of \u2018em! He fixes us efening dinner in a putty garden he\u2019s got. It\u2019s maybe hot now, but bineby she coolss off fine. Jake, he says we\u2019d be supp\u2019iced; got to sleep under blankets after dark, she cools off so fine!\u201d<\/p>\n

Old Fred was more cheerful than his daughter had known him to be for a long, long time; and though her timid heart was oppressed by the strange place and by strange thoughts concerning it, she felt a moment\u2019s gladness that they had come.<\/p>\n

\u201cJake Helmholz is a cholly feller,\u201dMr. Hitzel went on, chuckling. \u201cHe gits along good down here. Says Villa ain\u2019t nefer come in hundert and finfty miles. He ain\u2019t afrait of Villa, besites. He seen him once; he shook hants nice, he said. Dinnertime, Jake Helmholz he\u2019s got a fine supp\u2019ice to show us, he says.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou mean something he\u2019s having cooked for us for dinner as a surprise, papa?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo; he gits us a Cherman dinner, he says; but it ain\u2019t a supp\u2019ice to eat. He says You chust wait,\u201d he says to me.\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cYou\u2019ll git a supp\u2019ice for dinner. It\u2019s goin\u2019 to be the supp\u2019ice of your life, he says; \u201cbut it ain\u2019t nutting to eat,\u2019 he says. \u201cIt\u2019s goin\u2019 to be a supp\u2019ice for Miss Bairta, too, Jake says. <\/em>\u201cShe\u2019ll <\/em>like it nice, too,\u201d he says.\u201d But Bertha did not care for surprises; she looked anxious. \u201cI wish he wouldn\u2019t have a surprise for us,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019m afraid of finding one every minute anyhow, in the washbowl or somewhere. I know I\u2019ll go crazy the first time I see a tarantula! \u201cOh, it ain\u2019t goin\u2019 to be no bug,\u201d her father assured her. \u201cJake says it\u2019s too fine a climate for much bugs; he ain\u2019t nefer worry none about bugs. He says it\u2019s a supp\u2019ice we like so much it tickles us putty near dead!\u201d<\/p>\n

Bertha frowned involuntarily, wishing that her father had not used the word dead just then; she felt Mexico ominous round her, and even that intermittent cockcrow failed to reassure her as a homely and familiar sound. Mexico itself was surprising enough for her; even the appearance of her semirelative, the landlord Helmholz, had been a surprise to her, and she wished that he had not prepared anything additional. Her definite fear was that his idea might prove to be something barbaric and improper in the way of native dances; and she had a bad afternoon, not needing to go outside of her room to find it. But a little while after the sharp sunset the husk colored chambermaid brought in a lamp, and Mr. Hitzel followed, shouting wheezily. He had discovered the surprise.<\/p>\n

\u201cHoopee!\u201dhe cried. \u201cCome look! Bairta, come down! It\u2019s here! Come down, see who!\u201d He seized her wrist, hauling her with him, Bertha timorous and reluctant. \u201cCome look! It\u2019s here, settin\u2019 at our dinner table; it\u2019s all fixed in the garten waitin\u2019. Hoopee! Hoopee!\u201d<\/p>\n

And having thus partly urged and partly led her down the stairs he halted her in the trellised entrance of Mr. Helmholz\u2019 incongruous garden, a walled enclosure with a roof of black night. Half a dozen oil lamps left indeterminate yet definitely unfamiliar the shaping\u2019s of foliage, scrawled in gargoyle shadows against the patched stucco walls; but one of the lamps stood upon a small table which had been set for three people to dine, and the light twinkled there reassuringly enough upon commonplace metal and china, and glossed amber streaks brightly up and down slender long bottles. It made too \u2014 not quite so reassuringly \u2014 a Rembrandt sketch of the two men who stood waiting there \u2014 little, ragged faced, burnt dry Helmholz, and a biggish young man in brown linen clothes with a sturdy figure under them. His face was large, yet made of shining and ruddy features rather small than large; he was ample yet compact; bulkily yet tightly muscular everywhere, suggesting nothing whatever of grace, nevertheless leaving to a stranger\u2019s first glance no possibility to doubt his capacity for immense activity and resistance. Most of all he produced an impression of the stiffest sort of thickness; thickness seemed to be profoundly his great power. This strong young man was Mr. Helmholz\u2019 surprise for Bertha and her father.<\/p>\n

The latter could not get over it. \u201cSupp\u2019ice!\u201d he cried, laughing loudly in his great pleasure. \u201cI got a supp\u2019ice for you and Miss Bairta,\u201d he tells me. \u201cComes efening dinnertime you git a supp\u2019ice,\u201d Jake says. \u201cLook, Bairta, what for a supp\u2019ice he makes us! You nefer seen him before. Guess who it is. It\u2019s Louie!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLouie?\u201d she repeated vacantly.<\/p>\n

\u201cLouie Schlotterwerz!\u201d her father shouted. \u201cYour own cousin! Minna\u2019s Ludwig! Y\u2019efer see such a fine young feller? It\u2019s Louie!\u201d<\/p>\n

Vociferating, he pulled her forward; but the new cousin met them halfway and kissed Bertha\u2019s hand with an abrupt gallantry altogether matter of fact with him, but obviously confusing to Bertha. She found nothing better to do than to stare at her hand, thus saluted, and to put it behind her immediately after its release, whereupon there was more hilarity from her father.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook!\u201d he cried. \u201cShe don\u2019t know what to do! She don\u2019t seen such manners from young fellers in Cincinneti; I should took her to Chermany long ago. Sit down! Sit down! We eat some, drink class Rhine wine and git acquainted.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d said Helmholz. \u201cEat good. You\u2019ll find there\u2019s worse places than Mexico to come for German dishes; it\u2019ll surprise you. Canned United States soup you git, maybe, but afterworts is Wiener Schnitzel <\/em>and all else German. And if you got obyeckshuns to the way my waiters look out for you, why, chust hit \u2018em in the nose once, and send for me!\u201d<\/p>\n

He departed as the husk colored servitress and another like her set soup before his guests. Schlotterwerz had not yet spoken distinguishably, though he had murmured over Bertha\u2019s hand and laughed heartily with his uncle. But his expression was amiable, and Bertha after glancing at him timidly began: \u201cDo you \u2014 \u201d Then blushing even more than before she turned to her father. \u201cDoes he \u2014 does Cousin Ludwig speak English?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Hitzel\u2019s high good humor increased all the time, and having bestowed upon his nephew a buffet of approval across the little table \u2014 \u201cSpeak English?\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cSpeaks it as good as me and you! He was four years in England, different times. Speaks English, French, Mexican \u2014 Spanish, you call it, I guess \u2014 I heert him speak it to Jakie Helmholz. Speaks all lengwitches. Cherman, Louie speaks it too fest.\u201d Schlotterwerz laughed. \u201cI\u2019m afraid Uncle Fritz is rather vain, Cousin Bertha,\u201d he said; and she was astonished to hear no detectable accent in his speech, though she said afterward that his English reminded her more of a Boston professor who had been one of her teachers in school than of anything else she could think of. \u201cYour papa and I had a little talk before dinner, in German,\u201d Schlotterwerz went on. \u201cAt least, we attempted it. Your papa had to stop frequently to think of words he had forgotten, and sometimes he found it necessary to ask me the meaning of an idiom which I introduced into our conversation. He assured me that you spoke German with difficulty, Cousin Bertha; but, if you permit me to say it, I think he finds himself more comfortable in the English tongue.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Hitzel chuckled, not abashed; then he groaned. \u201cNo, I ain\u2019t! A feller can\u2019t remember half what his olt lengwitch is; yet all the same time he like to speak it, and maybe he gits so\u2019s he can\u2019t speak neither one if he don\u2019t look out! Feller can hear plenty Cherman in Cincinneti.\u201d His expression clouded with a reminiscence of pain. \u201cWell, I tell you, Louie, I am gled to git away from there. I couldn\u2019t stood the U. S. no longer. It\u2019s too much! I couldn\u2019t swaller it no longer!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI should think not,\u201dLouie agreed sympathetically.<\/p>\n

\u201cMany others are like you, Uncle Fritz; they\u2019re crossing the frontier every day. That\u2019s part of my business here, as I mentioned.\u201d<\/p>\n

Old Fred nodded. \u201cLouie tellss me he comes here about copper mines,\u201d he said to Bertha; \u201cfor after the war bissnuss. Cherman gufment takes him off the navy a while once, and he\u2019s come also to see if Chermans from the U. S. which comes in Mexico could git back home to fight for the olt country. Louie\u2019s got plenty on his hants. You can see he\u2019s a smart feller Bairta!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, papa,\u201d she said meekly; but her cousin laughed and changed the subject.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow are things in your part of the States?\u201d he asked. \u201cPretty bad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo tough I couldn\u2019t stood \u2018em, ain\u2019t I tolt you?\u201d Mr. Hitzel responded with sudden vehemence. \u201cIt\u2019s too much! I tell you I hat to hate to walk on the streets my own city! I tell you, the United States iss English lovers! I don\u2019t want to go back in the U. S. long as I am a lifin\u2019 man! The U. S. hates you if you are from Chermans. Yes, it\u2019s so! If the U. S. is goin\u2019 to hate me because I am from Chermans, well, by Gott, I can hate the U. S.!\u201d<\/p>\n

Bertha interposed: \u201cOh, no! Papa, you mustn\u2019t say that.\u201d<\/p>\n

The old man set down the wineglass he was tremulously lifting to his lips and turned to her. \u201cWhy? Why I shouldn\u2019t say it? Look once: Why did the U. S. commence from the beginning pickin\u2019 on Chermany? And now why is it war against Chermany? Ammunitions! So Wall Street don\u2019t git soaked for English bonds! So bullet makers keep on gittin\u2019 quick rich. Why don\u2019t I hate the U. S. because it kills million Chermans from U. S. bullets, when it was against the law all time to send bullets for the English to kill Chermans?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAin\u2019t it so, Louie?\u201d<\/p>\n

But the young man shook his head. He seemed a little amused by his uncle\u2019s violent earnestness, and probably he was amused too by the old fellow\u2019s interpretation of international law. \u201cNo, Uncle Fritz,\u201d he said. \u201cI think we may admit \u2014 between ourselves at least, and in Mexico \u2014 we may admit that the <\/em>Yankees can hardly be blamed for selling munitions to anybody who can buy them.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Hitzel sat dumfounded. \u201cYou don\u2019t blame \u2018em?\u201d he cried. \u201cYou are Cherman offizier, <\/em>and you don\u2019t \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot at all,\u201d said Schlotterwerz. \u201cIt\u2019s what we should do ourselves under the same circumstances. We always have done so, in fact. Of course we take the opposite point of view diplomatically, but we have no real quarrel with the States upon the matter of munitions. All that is propaganda for the proletariat.\u201d He laughed indulgently. \u201cThe proletariat takes enormous meals of propaganda; supplying the fodder is a great and expensive industry!\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Hitzel\u2019s expression was that of a person altogether nonplused; he stared at this cool nephew of his, and said nothing. But Bertha had begun to feel less embarrassed than she had been at first, and she spoke with some assurance.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat a beautiful thing it would be if nobody at all made bullets,\u201d she said. \u201cIf there wasn\u2019t any ammunition \u2014 why, then \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy, then,\u201d said the foreign cousin, smiling, \u201cwe should again have to fight with clubs and axes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no!\u201d she said quickly. \u201cI mean if there wouldn\u2019t be any fighting at all.\u201d<\/p>\n

He interrupted her, laughing. \u201cWhen is that state of the universe to arrive?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, it could!\u201d she protested earnestly.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe people don\u2019t really want to fight each other.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo; that is so, perhaps,\u201d he assented. \u201cWell, then, why couldn\u2019t it happen that there wouldn\u2019t ever be any more fighting?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause,\u201d said Schlotterwerz, \u201cbecause though peoples might not fight, nations always will. Peoples must be kept nations, for one reason, so that they will fight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh!\u201d Bertha cried.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes!\u201d said her cousin emphatically;<\/p>\n

He had grown serious. \u201cIf war dies, progress dies. War is the health of nations.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou mean war is good?\u201d Bertha said incredulously.<\/p>\n

\u201cWar is the best good!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou mean war when you have to fight to defend your country?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean war.\u201d<\/p>\n

She looked at him with wide eyes that comprehended only the simplest matters and comprehended the simplest with the most literal simplicity.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut the corpses,\u201d she said faintly. \u201cIs it good for them?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d said her cousin, staring now in turn.<\/p>\n

Bertha answered him. \u201cWar is killing people. Well, if you knew where the spirits went \u2014 the spirits that were in the corpses that get killed \u2014 if you knew for certain that they all went to heaven, and war would only be sending them to a good place \u2014 why, then perhaps you could say war is good. You can\u2019t say it till you are certain that it is good for all the corpses.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cColossal!\u201d the young officer exclaimed, vaguely annoyed. \u201cReally, I don\u2019t know what you\u2019re talking about. I\u2019m afraid it sounds like some nonsense you caught from Yankeedollarland. We must forget all that now, when you are going to be a good German. Myself, I speak of humanity. War is necessary for the progress of humanity. There can be no advance for humanity unless the most advanced nation leads it. To lead it the most advanced nation must conquer the others. To conquer them it must make war.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut the Germans!\u201d Bertha cried.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe Germans say they are the most advanced, but they claim they didn\u2019t make the war. Papa had letters and letters from Germany, and they all said they were attacked. That\u2019s what so much talk was about at home in Cincinnati. Up to the Lusitania the biggest question of all was about which side made the war.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey all made it,\u201d said Schlotterwerz. \u201cWar was inevitable, and that nation was the cleverest which chose its own time for it and struck first.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bertha was dismayed. \u201cBut we always \u2014 always \u2014 \u201d She faltered. \u201cWe claimed that the war was forced on Germany by the English.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was inevitable,\u201d her cousin repeated. \u201cIt was coming. Those who did not know it were stupid. War is always going to come; and the most advanced nation will always be prepared for it. By such means it will first conquer, then rule all the others. Already we are preparing for the next war. Indeed, we are fighting this one, I may say, with a view to the next, and the peace we make will really be what one now calls \u2018jockeying for position\u2019 for the next war.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet us put aside all this talk of \u2018Who began the war,\u2019 and accusations and defenses in journalism and oratory; all this nonsense about international law, which doesn\u2019t exist, and all the absurdities about mercy. Nature has no mercy; neither has the upward striving in man. Let us speak like adult people, frankly. We are three blood relations, in perfect sympathy. You have fled from the cowardly hypocrisy of the Yankees, and I am a German officer. Let us look only at the truth. What do we see? That life is war and war is the glory of life, and peace is part of war. In peace we work. It is work behind the lines, and though the guns may be quiet for the time, our frontiers are always our front lines. Look at the network of railways we had built in peace up to the Belgian, frontier. We were ready, you see. That is why we are winning. We shall be ready again and win again when the time comes, and again after that. The glorious future belongs all to Germany.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bertha had not much more than touched the food before her, though she had been hungry when they sat down; and now she stopped eating altogether, letting her hands drop into her lap; where they did not rest, however, for her fingers were clutched and unclutched nervously as she listened. Her father continued to eat, but not heartily; he drank more than he ate; he said nothing; and during momenta of silence his heavy breathing became audible. The young German was unaware that his talk produced any change in the emotional condition of his new found relatives; he talked on, eating almost vastly, himself, but drinking temperately.<\/p>\n

He abandoned the great subject for a time, and told them of his mother and brothers, all in war work except Gustave, who, as the Hitzel\u2019s knew, had been killed at the Somme. Finally, when Cousin Louie had eaten as much as he could he lit a cigar taken from an embroidered silk case which he carried, and offered one to his uncle. Old Fred did not lift his eyes; he shook his head and fumbled in one of his waistcoat pockets.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d he said in a husky voice. \u201cI smoke my own I brought from Cincinneti.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAs you like,\u201d Schlotterwerz returned.<\/p>\n

\u201cMine come from Havana.\u201d He laughed and added, \u201cBy secret express!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou ain\u2019t tell us,\u201d Mr. Hitzel said, his voice still husky \u2014 \u201cyou ain\u2019t tell us yet how long you been in Mexico.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAbout fourteen months, looking out for the commercial future and doing my share to make the border interesting at the present time for those Yankees you hate so properly, Uncle Fritz.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hitzel seemed to ruminate feebly. \u201cYou know,\u201d he said, \u201cyou know I didn\u2019t heert from Minna since Feb\u2019wary; she ain\u2019t wrote me a letter. Say once, how do the Cherman people feel towards us that is from Chermans in the U. S. \u2014 the Cherman Americans.\u201d<\/p>\n

His nephew grunted. \u201cWhat would you expect?\u201d he inquired. \u201cYou, of course, are exempt; you have left the country in disgust, because you are a true German. But the people at home will never forgive the German Americans. It is felt that they could have kept America out of this war if they had been really loyal. It was expected of them; but they were cowardly, and they will lose by it when the test comes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTest?\u201d old Fred repeated vacantly. The nephew made a slight gesture with his right hand, <\/em>to aid him in expressing the obviousness of what he said. \u201cCall it the German test of the Monroe Doctrine. Freedom of the seas will give Germany control of the seas, of course. The Panama Canal will be internationalized, and the States will be weakened by their approaching war with Japan, which is inevitable. Then will come the test of the Monroe Doctrine! We have often approached it, but it will be a much better time when England is out of the way and the States have been exhausted by war with Japan.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bertha interposed: \u201cWould England want to help the United States?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot out of generosity,\u201d Schlotterwerz laughed. \u201cFor her own interest \u2014 Canada.\u201d He became jocularly condescending and employed a phrase which Bertha vaguely felt to be somewhat cumbersome and unnatural. \u201cMy fair cousin,\u201d he said, \u201clisten to some truth, my fair cousin. No nation ever acts with generosity. Every government encourages the proletariat to claim such virtues, but it has never been done and never will be done. See what the Yankees are claiming: They go to war \u2018to make the world safe for democracy. One must laugh! They enter the war not for democracy; not to save France nor to save England; not to save international law! Neither is it to save Wall Street millionaires \u2014 though all that is excellent for the proletariat and brings splendid results. No, my fair cousin, the Yankees never did anything generous in their whole history; it isn\u2019t in the blood. You are right to hate them, because they are selfish not from a glorious policy, like the great among the Germans, but out of the meanness of their crawling hearts. They went to war with us because they were afraid for their own precious skins, later!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t believe it!\u201d Bertha\u2019s voice was suddenly sharp and loud, and the timid blushes had gone from her cheeks. She was pale, but brighter eyed than her father had ever seen her \u2014 brighter eyed than anybody had ever seen her. \u201cI don\u2019t believe it! We went to war because all that you\u2019ve been saying has to be fought till it\u2019s out of the world; I just now understand. \u201cOh!\u201d she cried, \u201cI just now understand why our American boys went to drive the ambulances in France, but not in Germany!\u201d<\/p>\n

Captain Schlotterwerz sat amazed, staring at her in an astonishment too great to permit his taking the cigar from his mouth for better enunciation. \u201cWe,\u201d he echoed. \u201cNow she says we\u2019!\u201d His gaze moved to her father. \u201cShe is a Yankee, she means. You hear what she says?\u201d \u201cYes, I heert her,\u201d said his uncle thickly. \u201cWell, what \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

Old Fred Hitzel rose to his feet and with a shaking hand pointed in what he believed to be the direction of the Atlantic Ocean. \u201cWhat you subbose, you flubdubber?\u201d he shouted. \u201cGit back to Chermany! Git back to Chermany if you got any way to take you! Git back and try some more how long you can fool the Cherman people till you git \u2018em to heng you up to a lemp post! Tomorrow me and Bairta starts home again for our own country. It\u2019s Cincinneti, you bet you! We heert you! It\u2019s too much! It\u2019s too much! It\u2019s too much!\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

American novelist and Pulitzer Prize winner Newton Booth Tarkington has been heralded as one of the best authors of the 20th century. His work explored middle America and often romanticized the life of Midwesterners. In his story \u201cCaptain Schlotterwerz\u201d published in 1918, two German-Americans living in Cincinnati venture to Mexico to escape the tense political … <\/p>\n

Read more “\u201cCaptain Schlotterwerz\u201d by Booth Tarkington”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4239","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/onhee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4239","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/onhee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/onhee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/onhee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/onhee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4239"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/onhee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4239\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/onhee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4239"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/onhee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4239"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/onhee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4239"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}