nches must rally
round their chief.

Ernestine had left her children in a neighbour's house; her husband in
the mean time was to keep house, attend to the shop, and dress his
food, as best he could: when the "Golden Lion" sends forth a summons no
one can stand on their rights.

Ernestine knew every nook and corner of the house, and gave everyone
what they wanted in a moment; she had unlimited authority both in
kitchen and cellar, and exulted in her own importance. On the wedding
morning Annele dressed herself, for she had no particular friend to
assist her.

Lenz would have preferred, from his retiring disposition, to have had a
very quiet wedding; but Annele was right in saying:--"I am quite aware
of what you would have preferred; but it is our duty to our neighbours
to provide some pleasure for them also, and we have only one wedding
day in our lives. Year after year we have plague enough from these
people, let us give them an opportunity of showing their gratitude to
us. There are very few weddings during the year in the whole country
that we do not attend, and take gifts with us. Two thousand gulden
would not cover what we have laid out on such occasions. It is but fair
that the neighbours should give in their turn. I don't want to gain by
my wedding; I shall be quite satisfied if we get back the half of what
we sent in this way."

And in truth the marriage gifts were very valuable, both in money and
in money's worth. They were not satisfied with one day, but the
marriage feast continued during two whole days; one day for friends and
relations, and the other for strangers.

On the wedding morning Pilgrim arrived with his hair well oiled, and a
bunch of rosemary tied with a ribbon in the button hole of his coat,
and he said:--"I bring you no wedding present."

"You have already given me enough: the portrait of my mother."

"Oh! that does not count; I know very well what I ought to do, but I
cannot. No, Lenz. I have given myself something, however, on the
occasion of your marriage. See here! with this paper I am like
Siegfried, whom you and I have read of: I have now a skin of callous
horn, which nothing can pierce."

"What is it?"

"It is a bond which secures to me a hundred gulden annually, from the
age of sixty; and till then I shall manage to get through; and then,
when I can no longer live alone, you must give me an attic in your
house, and a warm corner behind your stove, where I can play with your