cing all the worn places in the velvet, if he cast his
eyes down. How often have I sat beside the kitchen of a cook-shop, and
seasoned dry bread with the smell of roast meat. Often too my poodledog
went out and stole a sausage for me from the butcher."

At other times the little fellow had fared better; then, sitting in the
taverns, he had given free-play to his wit, and imposed no constraint on
his sharp tongue.

Once he had been invited by a former boon-companion, to accompany him to
his ancestral castle, to cheer his sick father; and so it happened that
he became a buffoon, wandered from one great lord to another, and finally
entered the elector's service.

He liked to pretend that he despised the world and hated men, but this
assertion could not be taken literally, and was to be regarded in a
general, rather than a special sense, for every beautiful thing in the
world kindled eager enthusiasm in his heart, and he remained kindly
disposed towards individuals to the end.

When Moor once charged him with this, he said, smiling:

"What would you have? Whoever condemns, feels himself superior to the
person upon whom he sits in judgment, and how many fools, like me, fancy
themselves great, when they stand on tiptoe, and find fault even with the
works of God! 'The world is evil,' says the philosopher, and whoever
listens to him, probably thinks carelessly: 'Hear, hear! He would have
made it better than our Father in heaven.' Let me have my pleasure. I'm
only a little man, but I deal in great things. To criticise a single
insignificant human creature, seems to me scarcely worth while, but when
we pronounce judgment on all humanity and the boundless universe, we can
open our mouths-wonderfully wide!"

Once his heart had been filled with love for a beautiful girl, but she
had scornfully rejected his suit and married another. When she was
widowed, and he found her in dire poverty, he helped her with a large
share of his savings, and performed this kind service again, when the
second worthless fellow she married had squandered her last penny.

His life was rich in similar incidents.

In his actions, the queer little man obeyed the dictates of his heart; in
his speech, his head ruled his tongue, and this seemed to him the only
sensible course. To practise unselfish generosity he regarded as a
subtle, exquisite pleasure, which he ventured to allow himself, because
he desired nothing more; others, to whom he did not grudge