Oh, my dear Schnaid. For other mortals you are perhaps just a dirty Franconian country village, like a hundred others, but I see you in memory only in golden sunshine.
My uncle20 had himself transferred there from Schillingsfurst, probably only in order to be nearer to Bamberg. We children, my brother Eugen and myself spent all our holidays in the presbytery as a matter of course.
The journey there already was wonderful. Mostly we were allowed to travel by ourselves,
that is to say as long as we did nothing worse than climb about the luggage racks and did not risk our lives in worse
ways, the conductor was implored to keep an eye on us, which he did several times on the way . 
We were met by our aunt at the station of Hirschaid. The one-hour walk to Schnaid did not finish without interruptions and adventures. First we had to call at the Presbytery of Hirschaid. Although we had been fed
abundantly prior to our departure, we could not but say yes to the housekeeper and demolish her ham sandwiches. Then, further along the road came the great event of crossing the River Regnitz, especially exciting, if at the same time a horse and cart came across on the ferry with
us. 
Then we passed through
a village - Sassanfahrt, very picturesque, built on a slope which was crowned by the castle of the squire. The houses, however, were grossly neglected in those days. The previous owners of the land to whom the village belonged, had, in order to populate it, invited travelling folk to stay. Even today,
the majority of the people are dark-haired, with black eyes.