And I always think of the coffin when ever I see men Running about in a state of doubtful and wild expectation."

Smilingly answer'd the pastor:-"Death's stirring image is neither

Unto the wise a cause of alarm-or an end to the pious.

Back into life it urges the former and teaches him action

And for the weal of the latter it strengthens his hope in affliction..

Death is a giver of life unto both. Your father did wrongly

When to the sensitive boy he pointed out death in its own form.

Unto the youth should be shown the worth of a noble and ripen'd

Age, and unto the old man, youth, that both may rejoice in

The eternal circle, and life may in life be made perfect!"

Here the door was open'd. The handsome couple appeared there,

And the friends were amazed, the loving parents astonished

At the form of the bride, the form of the bridegroom resembling.

Yes! the door appear'd too small to admit the tall fig

ures

Which now cross'd the threshold in company walking together.

To his parents Hermann presented her hastily saying:Here is a maiden just of the sort you are wishing to

have here.

Welcome her kindly, dear Father! she fully deserves it, and you too,

Mother dear, ask her questions as to her housekeeping knowledge,

That you may see how well she deserves to form one of our party,'

Then he hastily took on one side the excellent pastor,

Saying:-" Kind sir, I entreat you to help me out of this trouble

Quickly, and loosen the knot, whose unraveling I am so dreading;

For I have not ventured to woo as my bride the fair maiden,

But she believes she's to be a maid in the house, and I fear me

She will in anger depart, as soon as we talk about marriage.

But it must be decided at once! no longer in error

Shall she remain, and I no longer this doubt can put up with.

Hasten and once more exhibit that wisdom we all hold in honor."

So the pastor forthwith turn'd round to the rest of the party,

But the maiden's soul was, unhappily, troubled already By the talk of the father, who had just address'd her as follows,

Speaking good humor'dly, and in accents pleasant and lively:

"Yes I'm well satisfied, child! I joyfully see that my son has

Just as good taste as his father, who in his younger days show'd it,

Always leading the fairest one out in the dance, and then lastly

Taking the fairest one home as his wife-'twas your dear little mother!

For by the bride whom a man selects, we may easily

gather

What kind of spirit his is, and whether he knows his his own value.

But you will surely need but a short time to form your decision,

For verily I think he will find it full easy to follow."

Hermann but partially heard the words; the whole of his members

Inwardly quiver'd, and all the circle was suddenly silent.

But the excellent maiden, by words of such irony wounded,

(As she esteem'd them to be) and deeply distress'd in her spirit,

Stood, while a passing flush from her cheeks as far as her neck was

Spreading, but she restrained herself, and collected her thoughts soon;

Then to the old man she said, not fully concealing her

sorrow:

Truly I was not prepared by your son for such a reception,

When he described his father's nature,-that excellent burgher,

And I know I am standing before you, a person of culture,

Who behaves himself wisely to all, in a suitable manner. But it would seem that you feel not pity enough for the poor thing

Who has just cross'd your threshold, prepared to enter your service;

Else you would not seek to point out, with ridicule bitter,

How far removed my lot from your son's and that of yourself is.

True, with a little bundle, and poor, I have enter'd your dwelling,

Which it is the owner's delight to furnish with all things.

But I know myself well, and feel the whole situa tion.

Is it generous thus to greet me with language so jeering,

Which has well nigh expell'd me the house, when just on the threshold?"

Hermann uneasily moved about, and sign'd to the pastor

To interpose without delay, and clear up the error. Quickly the wise man advanced to the spot, and witness'd the maiden's

Silent vexation and tearful eyes and scarce-restrain'd

sorrow.

Then his spirit advised him to solve not at once the confusion,

But, on the contrary, prove the excited mind of the maiden.

So, in words framed to try her, the pastor address'd her as follows:

Surely, my foreign maiden, you did not fully consider,

When you made up your mind to serve a stranger so quickly,

What it really is to enter the house of a master;

For a shake of the hand decides your fate for a twelvemonth,

And a single word Yes to much endurance will bind you. But the worst part of the service is not the wearisome habits,

Nor the bitter toil of the work, which seems neverending;

For the active freeman works hard as well as the servant.

But to suffer the whims of the master, who blames you unjustly,

Or who calls for this and for that, not knowing his own mind,

And the mistress's violence, always so easily kindled, With the children's rough and supercilious bad man

ners,

This is indeed hard to bear, whilst still fulfilling your duties

Promptly and actively, never becoming morose or illnatured;

Yet for such work you appear little fit, for already the father's

Jokes have offended you deeply; yet nothing more commonly happens

Than to tease a maiden about her liking a youngster."

Thus he spoke, and the maiden felt the weight of his language,

And no more restrain'd herself; mightily all her emotions

Show'd themselves, her bosom heaved, and a deep sigh escaped her,

And whilst shedding burning tears, she answer'd as

follows:

"Ne'er does the clever man, who seeks to advise us in

sorrow,

Think how little his chilling words our hearts can deliver

From the pangs which an unseen destiny fastens upon

us.

You are happy and merry. How then should a jest ever wound you?

But the slightest touch gives torture to those who are suff'ring.

Even dissimulation would nothing avail me at present. Let me at once disclose what later would deepen my sorrow,

And consign me perchance to agony mute and consuming.

Let me depart forthwith! No more in this house dare I linger;

I must hence and away, and look once more for my poor friends

Whom I left in distress, when seeking to better my

fortunes.

This is my firm resolve; and now I may properly tell you

That which had else been buried for many a year in my bosom.

Yes, the father's jest has wounded me deeply, I own it,

Not that I am proud and touchy, as ill becometh a servant,

But because in truth in my heart a feeling has risen For the youth, who to-day has fill'd the part of my

savior.

For when first in the road he left me, his image remain'd still

Firmly fixed in my mind; and I thought of the fortunate maiden

Whom, as his betroth'd one, he cherish'd perchance in

his bosom.

And when I found him again at the well, the sight of him charm'd me

Just as if I had seen an angel descending from heaven.