them easy of appreciation. This poor Mollusca Vaterchen, for
instance,--to see is to know him; and the girl, how absurd to connect
such a guileless child of nature as that with those stereotyped notions
of feminine craft and subtlety!" I then went on to imagine some future
biographer of mine engaged on this portion of my life, puzzled for
materials, puzzled still more to catch the clew to my meaning in it "At
this time," will he say, "Potts, by one of those strange caprices which
often were the mainspring of his actions, resolved to lead a gypsy life.
His ardent love of nature, his heartfelt enjoyment of scenery, and, more
than even these, a certain breadth and generosity of character, disposed
him to sympathize with those who have few to pity and fewer to succor
them. With these wild children of the roadside he lived for months,
joyfully sharing the burdens they carried, and taking his part in
their privations. It was here he first met Catinka." I stopped at this
sentence, and I slowly repeated to myself, "It was here he first met
Catinka!" "What will he have next to record?" thought I. "Is Potts now
to claim sympathy as the victim of a passion that regarded not station,
nor class, nor fortune; that despised the cold conventionalities of
a selfish world, and asked only a heart for a heart? Is he to be
remembered as the faithful believer in his own theory,--Love, above all?
Are we to hear of him clasping rapturously to his bosom the poor forlorn
girl?" So intensely were my feelings engaged in my speculations, that,
at this critical pass, I threw my arms around Catinka's neck, and
kissed her. A rebuke, not very cruel, not in the least angry or peevish,
brought me quickly to myself; and as Vaterchen was fortunately in front
and saw nothing of what passed, I speedily made my peace. I do not know
how it happened, but in that same peace-making I had passed my arm
round her waist, and there it remained,--an army of occupation after the
treaty was signed,--and we went along, side by side, very amicably, very
happily.

We are often told that a small competence--the just enough to live
on--is the bane of all enterprise; that men thus placed are removed from
the stimulus of necessity, and yet not lifted into the higher atmosphere
of ambitions. Exactly in the same way do I believe that equality is
the grave of love. The passion thrives on difficulty, and requires
sacrifice. You must bid defiance to mankind in your choice, or you a