ng severe penance from sinners, and
through his severity driving a man to suicide. In his remorse he, too,
had sought refuge in this wilderness, where no one knew him, and where
one day he found Lazarus, took him to his cave, and taught him to tame
his quick temper. I had always thought the first pastor at Winkelsteg
should be a repentant sinner, and not a just man. We have now our
priest.

_Winter_, 1830.

For more than ten years I have neglected my diary, partly because I was
no longer alone, but had a friend and companion in "the Solitary,"
partly because I was busy with the building of the schoolhouse. I have
my own ideas on education. The child is a book in which we read, and
into which we ought to write. They ought to hear of nought but the
beautiful, the good, the great. They ought to learn patriotism--not the
patriotism which makes them die, but that which makes them live for
their country.

Berthold has become a poacher. I have already had to intercede for him
with the gamekeeper. Then, one winter's night, Forest Lily, his
daughter, was sent out to beg some milk for the babies. Snow fell
heavily, and she did not return. For three days they searched, and
finally found her huddled up with a whole herd of deer in a snow-covered
thicket of dry branches--kept alive by the animals' warmth and the pot
of milk she was taking home. When Berthold heard that the forest animals
had saved his child, he smashed his gun against a rock, and shouted,
"Never again! never again!"

_Carnival Time_, 1832.

In the parsonage lies a farm-hand with a broken jaw. Drink and quarrel
and fight--it is ever the same. The priest has warned them often enough.
He has called the brandy-distiller a poison-brewer, and a few days ago
the distiller came to the parsonage, armed with a heavy stick. He poured
out his complaints. The priest was spoiling his honest business. What
was he to do? He took up a threatening attitude. "So you have come at
last," said Father Paulus; "I was going to come to you. So you won't
give them any more spirits--you are a benefactor of the community! I
quite agree with you. You will prepare medicines and oils and ointments
from the roots and resin? I'll help you, and in a few years you will be
a well-to-do man."

The distiller was speechless. He had said nothing of the sort, but it
all seemed so reasonable to him.