of that tree;
and it is fully as dear to me. Under the shade of that very tree, upon
a log of wood, my wife was seated knitting, when I, a poor student, came
into this court for the first time, just seven and twenty years ago."
Charlotte inquired for his daughter. He said she was gone with Herr
Schmidt to the meadows, and was with the haymakers. The old man then
resumed his story, and told us how his predecessor had taken a fancy
to him, as had his daughter likewise; and how he had become first his
curate, and subsequently his successor. He had scarcely finished his
story when his daughter returned through the garden, accompanied by the
above-mentioned Herr Schmidt. She welcomed Charlotte affectionately,
and I confess I was much taken with her appearance. She was a
lively-looking, good-humoured brunette, quite competent to amuse one for
a short time in the country. Her lover (for such Herr Schmidt evidently
appeared to be) was a polite, reserved personage, and would not join
our conversation, notwithstanding all Charlotte's endeavours to draw
him out. I was much annoyed at observing, by his countenance, that
his silence did not arise from want of talent, but from caprice and
ill-humour. This subsequently became very evident, when we set out to
take a walk, and Frederica joining Charlotte, with whom I was talking,
the worthy gentleman's face, which was naturally rather sombre, became
so dark and angry that Charlotte was obliged to touch my arm, and remind
me that I was talking too much to Frederica. Nothing distresses me more
than to see men torment each other; particularly when in the flower of
their age, in the very season of pleasure, they waste their few short
days of sunshine in quarrels and disputes, and only perceive their error
when it is too late to repair it. This thought dwelt upon my mind; and
in the evening, when we returned to the vicar's, and were sitting round
the table with our bread end milk, the conversation turned on the joys
and sorrows of the world, I could not resist the temptation to inveigh
bitterly against ill-humour. "We are apt," said I, "to complain,
but--with very little cause, that our happy days are few, and our evil
days many. If our hearts were always disposed to receive the benefits
Heaven sends us, we should acquire strength to support evil when it
comes." "But," observed the vicar's wife, "we cannot always command our
tempers, so much depends upon the constitution: when the body suffer