r," said Ivo, "I wish I was in Hochdorf."

"Why?"

"Because it's so near to heaven, and I should like to climb up once."

"You silly boy, it only seems as if heaven began there. From Hochdorf
it is a long way to Stuttgard, and from there it is a long way to
heaven yet."

"How long?"

"Well, you can't get there until you die."

Leading his little son with one hand, and carrying his tools in the
other, Valentine passed through the village. Washing and scouring
was going on everywhere, and chairs and tables stood before the
houses,--for every family expected visitors for the great occasion of
the morrow.

As Valentine passed Christian the tailor's house, he held his hand to
his cap, prepared to take it off if anybody should look out. But nobody
did no: the place was silent as a cloister. Some farmers' wives were
going in, carrying bowls covered with their aprons, while others passed
out with empty bowls under their arms. They nodded to each other
without speaking: they had brought wedding-presents for the young
clergyman, who was to be married to his bride the Church.

As the vesper-bell rang, Valentine released the hand of his son, who
quickly folded his hands: Valentine also brought his hands together
over his heavy tools and said an Ave.

Next morning a clear, bright day rose upon the village. Ivo was dressed
by his mother betimes in a new jacket of striped Manchester cloth, with
buttons which he took for silver, and a newly-washed pair of leathern
breeches. He was to carry the crucifix. Mag, Ivo's eldest sister, took
him by the hand and led him into the street, "so as to have room in the
house." Having enjoined upon him by no means to go back, she returned
hastily. Wherever he came he found the men standing in knots in the
road. They were but half dressed for the festival, having no coats on,
but displaying their dazzling white shirt-sleeves. Here and there women
or girls were to be seen running from house to house without bodices,
and with their hair half untied. Ivo thought it cruel in his sister to
have pushed him out of the house as she had done. He would have been
delighted to have appeared like the grown folks,--first in negligee,
and then in full dress amid the tolling of bells and the clang of
trumpets; but he did not dare to return, or even to sit down anywhere,
for fear of spoiling his clothes. He went through the village almost on
tip-toe. Wagon after wagon rumbled in, bringing farmers and farmers