the fairy land beyond the Eastern mountains? who can
tell? Nothing is left but recrimination and remorse. And they wander
back again into the forest, away from the doleful ruin, carrion-strewn,
to sulk each apart over some petty spoil which he has saved from the
general wreck, hating and dreading each the sound of his neighbour's
footstep.

What will become of the forest children, unless some kind saint or hermit
comes among them, to bind them in the holy bonds of brotherhood and law?

This is my saga, gentlemen; and it is a true one withal. For it is
neither more nor less than the story of the Teutonic tribes, and how they
overthrew the Empire of Rome.

Menzel, who though he may not rank very high as a historian, has at least
a true German heart, opens his history with a striking passage.

'The sages of the East were teaching wisdom beneath the palms; the
merchants of Tyre and Carthage were weighing their heavy anchors, and
spreading their purple sails for far seas; the Greek was making the earth
fair by his art, and the Roman founding his colossal empire of force,
while the Teuton sat, yet a child, unknown and naked among the forest
beasts: and yet unharmed and in his sport he lorded it over them; for the
child was of a royal race, and destined to win glory for all time to
come.'

To the strange and complicated education which God appointed for this
race; and by which he has fitted it to become, at least for many
centuries henceforth, the ruling race of the world, I wish to call your
attention in my future lectures. To-day, I wish to impress strongly on
your minds this childishness of our forefathers. For good or for evil
they were great boys; very noble boys; very often very naughty boys--as
boys with the strength of men might well be. Try to conceive such to
yourselves, and you have the old Markman, Allman, Goth, Lombard, Saxon,
Frank. And the notion may be more than a mere metaphor. Races, like
individuals, it has been often said, may have their childhood, their
youth, their manhood, their old age, and natural death. It is but a
theory--perhaps nothing more. But at least, our race had its childhood.
Their virtues, and their sad failings, and failures, I can understand on
no other theory. The nearest type which we can see now is I fancy, the
English sailor, or the English navvy. A great, simple, honest, baby--full
of power and fun, very coarse and plain spoken at times: but if treated
like a human b