ethed within my breast, composed many songs
for my own pleasure. We learned to wield the sword too in Jena, and I
would gladly have crossed blades with the sturdy fencing-master
Allertssohn, of whom you have just told me. Leonhard was older than I,
and when he graduated with honor, I was still very weak in the pandects.
But we were always one in heart and soul, so I went to Holland with him
to attend his wedding. Ah, those were days! The theologians in Jena have
actively disputed about the part of the earth, in which the little garden
of Paradise should be sought. I considered them all fools, and thought:
'There is only one Eden, and that lies in Holland, and the fairest roses
the dew waked on the first sunny morning, bloom in Delft!'"

At these words Georg shook back his waving locks and hesitated in great
embarrassment, but as no one interrupted him and he saw Barbara's eager
face and the children's glowing cheeks, quietly continued:

"So I came home, and was to learn for the first time, that in life also
beautiful sunny days often end with storms. I found my father ill, and a
few days after my return he closed his eyes in death. I had never seen
any human being die, and the first, the very first, was he, my father."

Georg paused, and deeply moved, passed his hand over his eyes.

"Your father!" cried Barbara, in a tone of cordial sympathy, breaking the
silence. "If we can judge the tree by the apple, he was surely a splendid
man."

The Junker again raised his head, exclaiming with sparkling eyes:

"Unite every good and noble quality, and embody them in the form of a
tall, handsome man, then you will have the image of my father;--and I
might tell you of my mother--"

"Is she still alive?" asked Peter.

"God grant it!" exclaimed the young man. "I have heard nothing from my
family for two months. That is hard. Pleasures smile along every path,
and I like my profession of soldier, but it often grieves me sorely to
hear so little from home. Oh! if one were only a bird, a sunbeam, or a
shooting-star, one might, if only for the twinkling of an eye, learn how
matters go at home and fill the soul with fresh gratitude, or, if it must
be--but I will not think of that. In the valley of the Saale, the trees
are blossoming and a thousand flowers deck all the meadows, just as they
do here, and did there two years ago, when I left home for the second
time.

"After my father's death I was the heir, but neither hunting nor ri