rowd, crowd, crowd;
Let me sit close beside you:
I love you very much,
I can abide you.
But for what folks say
You'd be my love to-day;
If the folks were all gone
You and I'd be one.
Lassie, crowd, &c.

"Lassie, look, look, look
Down my black eyes, and see them
Dance in the light
The sight of you does give them.
Look, look in them deep:
Your likeness they must keep;
Here you must stay,
And never go away.
Lassie, look, &c.

"Lassie, you, you, you
Must take upon your finger
The wedding-ring:
And may it linger, linger!
If I can't do so,
To the wars I'll go;
If you I can't have,
All the world is my grave.
Lassie, you," &c.

Many other songs they sang,--mostly sad ones, though the singers were
in bounding spirits. As the spring flowed on at their feet and
meandered through the fields, so the song-fountain in them appeared
inexhaustible.

The teacher found himself in a world unknown to him before. Though he
had heard and experienced something of the rich tenderness of the rude
national ditties of Germany, he had tasted them as we eat the wild
berries of the wood on a well-served table: we prefer them to the
products of the greenhouse, yet sweeten them with sugar, and, perhaps,
wash them down with wine. Here he plucked them fresh from the bush, and
ate them not upon a piled saucer, but singly, as they left the stems.
Their deep, untranslatable force and simplicity were revealed to him in
all its glory: he felt how much his individual spirit was allied to
that of the nation, and saw its lovely representative sitting by his
side. He began to aspire to the priesthood of this marvellous spirit.

On returning to Hedwig's house and meeting her grandmother still at the
door, he seized the hand of his beloved and pressed it to his heart,
saying, "Not in bitter toil shall you lift these hands for me, but to
give blessings, as becomes them."

Unable to say more, he walked quickly away.

The village gossips that evening were occupied with nothing