ere required always to leave one egg in
the nest, and if it contained but one not to molest it. How many trees we
climbed, what steep cliffs we scaled, through what crevices we squeezed
to add a rare egg to our collection; nay, we even risked our limbs and
necks! Life is valued so much less by the young, to whom it is brightest,
and before whom it still stretches in a long vista, than by the old, for
whom its charms are already beginning to fade, and who are near its end.

I shall never forget the afternoon when, supplied with ropes and poles,
we went to the Owl Mountain, which originally owed its name to
Middendorf, because when he came to Keilhau he noticed that its rocky
slope served as a home for several pairs of horned owls. Since then their
numbers had increased, and for some time larger night birds had been
flying in and out of a certain crevice.

It was still the laying season, and their nests must be there. Climbing
the steep precipice was no easy task, but we succeeded, and were then
lowered from above into the crevice. At that time we set to work with the
delight of discoverers, but now I frown when I consider that those who
let first the daring Albrecht von Calm, of Brunswick, and then me into
the chasm by ropes were boys of thirteen or fourteen at the utmost.
Marbod, my companion's brother, was one of the strongest of our number,
and we were obliged to force our way like chimney sweeps by pressing our
hands and feet against the walls of the narrow rough crevice. Yet it now
seems a miracle that the adventure resulted in no injury. Unfortunately,
we found the young birds already hatched, and were compelled to return
with our errand unperformed. But we afterward obtained such eggs, and
their form is more nearly ball-shape than that seen in those of most
other birds. We knew how the eggs of all the feathered guests of Germany
were coloured and marked, and the chest of drawers containing our
collection stood for years in my mother's attic. When I inquired about it
a few years ago, it could not be found, and Ludo, who had helped in
gathering it, lamented its loss with me.

CHAPTER XII.

FRIEDRICH FROEBEL'S IDEAL OF EDUCATION.

Dangerous enterprises were of course forbidden, but the teachers of the
institute neglected no means of training our bodies to endure every
exertion and peril; for Froebel was still alive, and the ideal of
education, for whose realization he had established the Keilhau school,
ha