soming? He
read a verse here and there in an undertone, now and then altering a
word that no longer satisfied him, and smiling at himself for polishing
verses which no human eye had seen or ever would see. Many he had quite
forgotten, and now found them beautiful and couching. When he had
turned the last page, he took the pencil and wrote on a loose scrap of
paper that he laid in the drawer in place of the volume of poems, the
following lines, which he wrote without effort and without revision:

Good night, thou lovely world, good night!
Have I not had a glorious day?
Unmurmuring, though thou leav'st my sight
I to my couch will go away.

Whate'er of loveliness thou hast,
Is it not mine to revel in?
Though many a keen desire does waste
My heart, it ne'er alone has been.

Delusion's veil of error blind
Fell quite away from soul and eye;
Clearer my path did upward wind
To where life's sunny hilltops lie.

No idol false is there adored;
Humanity's eternal powers,
O'er which the light of Heaven is poured
Stand self-contained in passion's hours.

High standing on the breeze-swept peak,
Below may I with rapture see
The land whereof no man may speak
Save him who fares there wearily.

This is the rich inheritance
The children of the world shall own,
When crossed the wearisome expanse,
And fate's supreme decrees are known.

Oh! brother, who art seeking still
For love and joy, where I have sought,
I would your path with blessings fill
When to its end my life is brought.

Ah! brother, could we two aspire
Together to the glorious height,--
Hence tears! some part of my desire
Is thine. Thou lovely world, good night!

CHAPTER XII.

Suddenly Edwin's step sounded on the stairs. When he entered, he found
Balder sitting before the stove stirring the bright fire with the
poker.

"How do you do, child?" he said, with a brighter face than usual. "What
are you doing? Where's Franzel? Have you been burning papers here?"

"I've been making up a little more fire," replied the youth