A SAMARITAN IN VIENNA.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXXV, Issue 3828, 10 May 1913, Page 10

A SAMARITAN IN VIENNA.

A MTV OF FAITH.

) (By F. HARRIS DEAN, in the\ “Daily Mail.”) \

An Englishman’s homo is his castjo. So long as lie does nothing to the lannoyantje of his neighbors, repairs it to the satisfaction of tile landlord and the-sanitary inspector, pays his water and other rates, doesn’t allow liis chimney to catch on.fire, shuts his windows at night, and does not otherwise get into troublo with the police, he is master in his own house. In Austria things arc different. The Viennoso home is moro like a gaol than a castle.

Vienna is the City of Flats; ami the hausbesorger (caretaker) is chief warder. Out of doors you may do nearly everything you shouldn’t. Revellers, overcome by ilio iced wine and hot air of the night places of entertainment (nearly alLof which arc'underground and i.m ventilated) may Safely hail a passing policeman and give hi in their pocket-hook and address, and drop off into slumber with the comforting ’certainty that they will wake up the next me riling in their own beds.

Despite the awesome sword which he carries in lieu of a truncheon, tlio Viennese policeman is a genial soul. He is the good fairy of the city. The hausbesorger, however, is its evil spirit. Ho lives in a gloomy cave ;u at the foot of the stairs, and pounces out on you every time you pass, un tells ycjn you mustn’t. Though I have lived for several years in Vienna. I have never really mastered; the house regulations. After ten o’clock a chill air as of the tomb envelops the house. Later than that you may not sing, dance, or play any musical instrument.

I was ones at a party, when one of the guests, not observing the lateness of the hour, volunteered to sing “Ora Pro Nobis.” She bad not gone much beyond the first bar when she noticed that it only wanted one minute to ten. The speed with which she finished the song, put on her hat and coat, shook hands all round, and was out in the street before the hour had finished striking, was a lesson from which I have not yet recovered. At no time may one shake one’s mats out of the front window; but between the hours of six and eight :’n the morning one may '.eat them in the courtyard. A visitor, waking up with a start a little after six, and wondering whether tho thunder will give him a headache, fails ro appreciate the privilege. For about vn hour tho city is as if wrapped in a sand storm; everybody is in tho courtyard hanging mats. The Viennese Hausfrau invests all her spare cash in mats. It is tho proudest day of her life when she has so many that she is the first, to start and the Last to finish.

If ono keeps a dog, on wet days one must carry him up to one's apartments so that his muddy feet do not soil tho staircase. Particularly well do I know this last regulation; for at one time I was the proud) possessor of a mastiff. In the first month of my stay it rained on seventeen days, and I lost nearly a stone in weight. My medical attendant said I was not physically strong enough to own so large a dog; so, as my rooms were on the fifth floor, I exchanged him for a toy terrier.

Dustbins, which are generally kens in the kitchen next to the gas stovehave to be carried downstairs by the tenant and deposited on tho pavement for the convenience of tho dustman. An official makes his appearance a few minutes ahead of the dustcart, and clangs a huge bell at the foot of the stairs in warning. At the sound doors rly open as if by magic, and the next moment the stairs are crowded with women—young, and old, and frail —each with an iron dust bin strained to her bosom. If you are wearing new clothes, you want to see that the dustcart isn’t in the street before yon start mounting the stairs.

It is against the law for barrel-or-gans to play in tho street, but they may, with the consent of the .Hausbesorger, play in the courtyards. It is advisable, therefore, before taking up your residence, to make sure that your idea of music coincides-with -that of tho- Hausbesorger. But- of all regulations tending to vex the soul of a free-born Englishman is tho one that directs that the house door shall be closed every night at ten o’clock. * For opening after this hour tho Hausbesorger extorts the sum of twenty heller (twopence). Tho Viennese is a thrifty individual; so that ho either goes to bed at ten, nr else stops out all night. All theatrical performances are over between half-past nine and a quarter to ten, to enable the audience to get home before the autocratic Hausbesorger slams the outer gate. It is no uncommon spectacle in a theatre to see stout citizens, whose time for the quarter mile is well over fifteen minutes. nervously nursing their twoponces in white, knuckly fists. To sec a corpulent, panting figure beating frantically upon tho iron gate, bewailing tho loss of liis twopence, is a sight to molt the heart of all but a Viennese Hausbesorger. .It takes twopence to melt liis heart.

Did tills -regulation only affect tho laggard reveller I should have nothing to say, The man who wastes his time at picture palace or at open-air cafe listening to tho band till past ten o’clock, gets no sympathy from mo. But there are others. It is possible for even a citizen to go to bed at halfpast nine, and’ yet suffer from this regulation. It happened to me.

'■ I had boon in bed for about urf hour, when my landlady tapped on. my door and informed mo that her husband was ill. I said I was sorry, and turned -on my other side. Ten minutes later she tapped again and asked mo if I liiad gone for tho doctor yet. I said yes, I had just gone.

Then I dressed and went downstairs I awoke the Hausbeshrger and gave id in twopence to let me out. Halfway down the street I suddenly remembered I had forgotten to ask the name of the doctor I was doing for.Ha I went back and gave the man another twopence to let me in again. I climbed six weary flights of stairs, and learned that the doctors name was Sauerkraut, and that lie lived

just round tho co’uer. I gave the Hausbesorger anotbci twopence, ana was in the street again. It wants a mathematician to follow this story. It cost twopence to get into Dr. Sauerkraut’s house, twopence to get out again, and twopence to obtain readmittance to m v own place, which comes to one shilling. To play tho Good Samaritan in Vienna at a shilling a time is too expensive for a poor man. , For the remainder of my stay 1 went to bed every night wifh cotton wool in my cars.