s at home had
been so delightful that the first year I felt troubled by the idea that
the festival must be celebrated away from my mother and without her. But
after we had shared the Keilhau holiday, and what preceded and followed
it, we could not decide which was the most enjoyable.

Once our mother was present, though the cause of her coming was not
exactly a joyous one. About a week before the Christmas of my third year
at Keilhau I went to the hayloft at dusk, and while scuffling with a
companion the hay slipped with us and we both fell to the barn-floor. My
school-mate sustained an internal injury, while I escaped with the
fracture of two bones, fortunately only of the left arm. The severe
suffering which has darkened so large a portion of my life has been
attributed to this fracture, but the idea is probably incorrect;
otherwise the consequences would have appeared earlier.

At first the arm was very painful; yet the thought of having lost the
Christmas pleasures was almost worse. But the experience that the days
from which we expect least often afford us most happiness was again
verified. Barop had thought it his duty to inform my mother of this
serious accident, and two or three days later she arrived. Though I could
not play out of doors with the others, there was enough to enjoy in the
house with her and some of my comrades.

Every incident of that Christmas has remained in my memory, and, though
Fate should grant me many more years of life, I would never forget them.
First came the suspense and excitement when the wagon from Rudolstadt
filled with boxes drove into the court-yard, and then the watching for
those which might be meant for us.

On Christmas eve, when at home the bell summoned us to the Christmas-tree
the delight of anticipation reached its climax, and expressed itself in
song, in gayer talk, and now and then some harmless scuffle.

Then we went to bed, with the firm resolve of waking early; but the sleep
of youth is sounder than any resolution, and suddenly unwonted sounds
roused us, perhaps from the dreams of the manger at Bethlehem and the
radiant Christmas-tree.

Was it the voice of the angels which appeared to the shepherds? The
melody was a Christmas choral played by the Rudolstadt band, which had
been summoned to waken us thus pleasantly.

Never did we leave our beds more quickly than in the darkness of that
early morning, illuminated as usual only by a tallow dip. Rarely was the
pr