s who were lying on the floor
that evening, building forts and castles with the wooden blocks which
Froebel had had made for them according to his own plan, excited the
keenest interest. He had come to take his brother away; but when he saw
him, among other happy companions of his own age, complete the finest
structure of all--a Gothic cathedral--it seemed almost wrong to tear the
child from this circle.

He gazed sadly at his brother when he came to bid him "good-night," and
then remained alone with Froebel. The latter was less talkative than
usual, waiting for his friend to tell him of the future which awaited
him in Silesia. When he heard that a second tutor was to relieve
Langethal of half his work, he exclaimed, with the greatest anxiety:

"You do not know him, and yet intend to finish a work of education with
him? What great chances you are hazarding!"

The next morning Froebel asked his friend what goal in life he had set
before him, and Langethal replied:

"Like the apostle, I would fain proclaim the gospel to all men according
to the best of my powers, in order to bring them into close communion
with the Redeemer."

Froebel answered, thoughtfully:

"If you desire that, you must, like the apostles, know men. You must
be able to enter into the life of every one--here a peasant, there a
mechanic. If you can not, do not hope for success; your influence will
not extend far."

How wise and convincing the words sounded! And Froebel touched the
sensitive spot in the young minister, who was thoroughly imbued with
the sacred beauty of his life-task, yet certainly knew the Gospels,
his classic authors, and apostolic fathers much better than he did the
world.

He thoughtfully followed Froebel, who, with Middendorf and the boys, led
him up the Steiger, the mountain whose summit afforded the magnificent
view I have described. It was the hour when the setting sun pours its
most exquisite light over the mountains and valleys. The heart of the
young clergyman, tortured by anxious doubts, swelled at the sight of
this magnificence, and Froebel, seeing what was passing in his mind,
exclaimed:

"Come, comrade, let us have one of our old war-songs."

The musical "black Jager" of yore willingly assented; and how clearly
and enthusiastically the chorus of boyish voices chimed in!

When it died away, the older man passed his arm around his friend's
shoulders, and, pointing to the beautiful region lying before them in
the