round me. I see them, our old ancestors,
how they formed their friendships and contracted alliances at the
fountain-side; and I feel how fountains and streams were guarded by
beneficent spirits. He who is a stranger to these sensations has never
really enjoyed cool repose at the side of a fountain after the fatigue
of a weary summer day.

MAY 13.

You ask if you shall send me books. My dear friend, I beseech you,
for the love of God, relieve me from such a yoke! I need no more to be
guided, agitated, heated. My heart ferments sufficiently of itself.
I want strains to lull me, and I find them to perfection in my Homer.
Often do I strive to allay the burning fever of my blood; and you have
never witnessed anything so unsteady, so uncertain, as my heart. But
need I confess this to you, my dear friend, who have so often endured
the anguish of witnessing my sudden transitions from sorrow to
immoderate joy, and from sweet melancholy to violent passions? I treat
my poor heart like a sick child, and gratify its every fancy. Do not
mention this again: there are people who would censure me for it.

MAY 15.

The common people of the place know me already, and love me,
particularly the children. When at first I associated with them, and
inquired in a friendly tone about their various trifles, some fancied
that I wished to ridicule them, and turned from me in exceeding
ill-humour. I did not allow that circumstance to grieve me: I only felt
most keenly what I have often before observed. Persons who can claim
a certain rank keep themselves coldly aloof from the common people,
as though they feared to lose their importance by the contact; whilst
wanton idlers, and such as are prone to bad joking, affect to descend
to their level, only to make the poor people feel their impertinence all
the more keenly.

I know very well that we are not all equal, nor can be so; but it is my
opinion that he who avoids the common people, in order not to lose their
respect, is as much to blame as a coward who hides himself from his
enemy because he fears defeat.

The other day I went to the fountain, and found a young servant-girl,
who had set her pitcher on the lowest step, and looked around to see
if one of her companions was approaching to place it on her head. I ran
down, and looked at her. "Shall I help you, pretty lass?" said I. She
blushed deeply. "Oh, sir!" she exclaimed. "No ceremony!" I replied. She
adjusted her head-gear, and I helped h