eautifulest, happiest period of their life, had been under the
sole care and direction of the pious genial Mother; and that Fritz, at
least till his sixth year, was exclusively limited to Christophine's
society, and had no other companion. They two had to be, and were, all
to each other. Christophine on this account stood nearer to her
Brother throughout all his life than the Sisters who were born later.

'In rural stillness, and in almost uninterrupted converse with
out-door nature, flowed by for Fritz and her the greatest part of
their childhood and youth. Especially dear to them was their abode in
this romantic region. Every hour that was free from teaching or other
task, they employed in roaming about in the neighbourhood; and they
knew no higher joy than a ramble into the neighbouring hills. In
particular they liked to make pilgrimages together to a chapel on the
Calvary Hill at Gmuend, a few miles off, to which the way was still
through the old monkish grief-stations, on to the Cloister of Lorch
noticed above. Often they would sit with closely-grasped hands, under
the thousand-years-old Linden, which stood on a projection before the
Cloister-walls, and seemed to whisper to them long-silent tales of
past ages. On these walks the hearts of the two clasped each other
ever closer and more firmly, and they faithfully shared their little
childish joys and sorrows. Christophine would bitterly weep when her
vivacious Brother had committed some small misdeed and was punished
for it. In such cases, she often enough confessed Fritz's faults as
her own, and was punished when she had in reality had no complicity in
them. It was with great sorrow that they two parted from their little
Paradise; and both of them always retained a great affection for Lorch
and its neighbourhood. Christophine, who lived to be ninety, often
even in her latter days looked back with tender affection to their
abode there.[47]

[Footnote 47: _Saupe_, pp. 106-108.]

'In his family-circle, the otherwise hard-mannered Father showed
always to Mother and Daughters the tenderest respect and the
affectionate tone which the heart suggests. Thus, if at table a dish
had chanced to be especially prepared for him, he would never eat of
it without first inviting the Daughters to be helped. As little could
he ever, in the long-run, withstand the requests of his gentle Wife;
so that not seldom she managed to soften his rough severity. The
Children learned to