r his rich master had sent him, having
stipulated that he was not to marry.

"_He_ marry!" He laughed a strange and hollow laugh.

The winter had commenced early. There was a sharp frost, and without
there was a heavy snow storm, so that all who could do so kept within
doors. Therefore it was that Anthon's neighbours did not observe that
his booth had not been opened for two whole days, and that he had not
shown himself during that time. But who would go out in such weather
when he could stay at home?

These were dark, dismal days; and in the booth, where the window was
not of glass, it looked like twilight, if not sombre night. Old Anthon
had scarcely left his bed for two days. He had not strength to get up.
The intensely cold weather had brought on a severe fit of rheumatism
in his limbs, and the old bachelor lay forsaken and helpless, almost
too feeble to stretch out his hand to the pitcher of water which he
had placed near his bed; and if he could have done so, it would have
been of no avail, for the last drop had been drained from it. It was
not the fever, not illness alone that had thus prostrated him; it was
also old age that had crept upon him. It seemed to be constant night
up yonder where he lay. A little spider, which he could not see, spun
contentedly its gossamer web over his face. It was soon to stretch
like a crepe veil across the features, when the old man closed his
eyes.

He dozed a good deal; yet time seemed long and weary. He shed no
tears, and had but little suffering. Molly was scarcely ever in his
thoughts. He had a conviction that this world and its bustle were no
more for him. At one time he seemed to feel hunger and thirst. He did
feel them; but no one came to give him nourishment or drink--no one
would come. He thought of those who might be fainting or dying of
want. He remembered how the pious Elizabeth, while living on this
earth--she who had been the favourite heroine of his childish days at
home, the magnanimous Duchess of Thueringia--had herself entered the
most miserable abodes, and brought to the sick and wretched
refreshments and hope. His thoughts dwelt with pleasure on her good
deeds. He remembered how she went to feed the hungry, to speak words
of comfort to those who were suffering, and to bind up their wounds,
although her austere husband was angry at these works of mercy. He
recalled to memory the legend about her, that, as she was going on one
of her charitable errands, wit