tor's statue was the extent of any discussion; while at every
opportunity crept out some little congratulating expression on the
goodness of the harvest, the abundance of the vintage, or, what was
scarcely less valued, the admirable operatic company which had just
arrived. These may seem very petty incidents for men to pass their lives
amongst, thought I, but still they all seem very happy; there is much
comfort, there is no poverty. Like the court whist-table, where the
points are only for silver groschen, the amusement is just as great, and
no one is ruined by high play.

I am not sure but I should have made an excellent Hessian, thought I,
as I deposited two little silver pieces, about the size of a spangle,
on the table, in payment for a very appetising little supper, and an
ink-bottleful of Rhine wine. And now for the coffee.

I was seated beneath a great chestnut-tree, whose spreading branches
shaded me from the rays of the setting sun that came slanting to my very
feet. At a short distance off sat a little family party--grandfather,
grandchildren, and all--there was no mistaking them; they were eating
their supper in the Park, possibly in honour of some domestic fete.
Yes, there could be no doubt of it; it was the birthday of that pretty,
dark-eyed little girl, of some ten years of age, who wore a wreath of
roses in her hair, and sat at the top of the table, beside the Greis.
A peal of delighted laughter broke from them all as I looked. And now I
could see a little boy of scarce five years old, whose long yellow locks
hung midway down his back; he was standing beside his sister's chair,
and I could hear his infant voice reciting a little verse he had learned
in honour of the day. The little man, whose gravity contrasted so
ludicrously with the merry looks about, went through his task as
steadily as a court preacher holding forth before royalty; an occasional
breach of memory would make him now and then turn his head to one side,
where an elder sister knelt, and then he would go on again as before. I
wished much to catch the words, but could only hear the refrain of each
verse, which he always repeated louder than the rest--

'Da sind die Tage lang genuch, Da sind die Nachte mild.'

Scarcely had he finished when his mother caught him to her arms and
kissed him a hundred times; while the others struggled to take him, the
little fellow clung to her neck with all his strength.

It was a picture of such happi