ich are not the less bitter at the time
from being remembered afterwards with a mixture of shame and
amusement. Happy or unhappy, however, in his dreams the boy was great,
and this was enough; for Friedrich was vain, as everyone is tempted to
be who feels himself in any way singular and unlike those about him.
He revelled in the honours which he showered upon himself, and so--the
night was happy; and so--the day was unwelcome when he was smartly bid
to get up and put on his stockings, and found Fame gone and himself a
child again, without honour, in his own country, and in his father's
house.

These sad dreams (sad in their uselessness) were destined, however, to
do him some good at last; and, oddly enough, the childish council that
condemned the ballad-book decided his fate also. This was how it
happened.

The children were accustomed, as we have said, to celebrate the Feast
of St. Nicholas by readings from their beloved book. St. Nicholas's
Day (the 6th of December) has for years been a favourite festival with
the children in many parts of the Continent. In France, the children
are diligently taught that St. Nicholas comes in the night down the
chimney, and fills the little shoes (which are ranged there for the
purpose) with sweetmeats or rods, according to his opinion of their
owner's conduct during the past year. The Saint is supposed to travel
through the air, and to be followed by an ass laden with two panniers,
one of which contains the good things, and the other the birch, and he
leaves his ass at the top of the chimney and comes down alone. The
same belief is entertained in Holland; and in some parts of Germany he
is even believed to carry off bad boys and girls in his sack,
answering in this respect to our English Bogy.

The day, as may be supposed, is looked forward to with no small amount
of anxiety; very clean and tidy are the little shoes placed by the
young expectants; and their parents--who have threatened and promised
in St. Nicholas's name for a year past--take care that, with one sort
of present or the other, the shoes are well filled. The great
question--rods or sweetmeats--is, however, finally settled for each
individual before breakfast-time on the great day; and before dinner,
despite maternal warnings, most of the said sweetmeats have been
consumed. And so it came to pass that Friedrich and his brothers and
sisters had hit upon a plan for ending the day, with the same spirit
and enjoyment wit