at puts us out of humor, we do not await the
end, and even when we do, and become aware of his real intention, we
only partly abandon our former prejudice. This has already been proved
on various occasions. Kleist, in his _Prince of Homburg_, moreover,
touched what in his day was a most sensitive spot--when Theodor Koerner
made his characters run a race to see who could die first. Fear of death
and a hero! That was really going too far! It was an insult to every
ensign "You ask a piece of bread and butter of me! I will not give you
that! But my life you may have with pleasure!"

RECOLLECTIONS OF MY CHILDHOOD (1846-1854)

By FRIEDRICH HEBBEL

TRANSLATED BY FRANCES H. KING

At the time of my birth my father possessed a small house, with a garden
adjoining, in which stood some fruit trees; in particular one very
productive pear-tree. In the house there were three dwellings, the most
pleasant and roomy of which we occupied; its principal advantage
consisted in the fact that it was situated on the sunny side. The other
two were rented. The one opposite to us was inhabited by an old mason,
Claus Ohl, and his little stooping wife, and the third, to which a
back-entrance through the garden gave access, by the family of a day
laborer. The tenants never changed, and for us children they belonged to
the house, just like Father and Mother, from whom indeed, as regards
loving attentions bestowed upon us, they differed but little, if at all.

Our garden was surrounded by other gardens. On one side was the garden
of a jovial master-joiner who loved to tease me. Even now I cannot
understand how he could take his own life, as he did, later on. Once
when I was a very little boy I had said to him over the hedge, with a
precociously knowing look: "Neighbor, it is very cold!" and he never
grew weary of repeating this remark to me, especially in the hot summer
months.

Next to the garden of the joiner was that of the minister. It was
inclosed by a high board fence, which prevented us children from looking
over, but not from peeping through cracks and chinks. This afforded us
infinite pleasure in the springtime when the beautiful strange flowers
which filled the garden, came up again; but we trembled lest the
minister should catch sight of us. We felt an unbounded reverence for
him, which may have been inspired by his serious, severe, sallow face
and his cold glance, as much as by his position and his functions, which
seemed to