for his good beer
as for the excellence of his ropes. Mozart heard the balls and saw a
dozen or more guests within. A half-unconscious desire to forget himself
among natural and unassuming people moved him to enter the garden. He
sat down at one of the tables--but little shaded by the small
trees--with an inspector of the water-works and two other Philistines,
ordered his glass of beer, joined in their conversation, and watched the
bowling.

Not far from the bowling-ground, toward the house, was the open shop of
the rope-maker. It was a small room, full to overflowing; for, besides
the necessaries of his trade, he had for sale all kinds of dishes and
utensils for kitchen, cellar, and farm-oil and wagon grease, also seeds
of various kinds, and dill and cheap brandy. A girl, who had to serve
the guests and at the same time attend to the shop, was busy with a
countryman, who, leading his little boy by the hand, had just stepped up
to make a few purchases--a measure for fruit, a brush, a whip. He
would choose one article, try it, lay it down, take up a second and a
third, and go back, uncertainly, to the first one; he could not decide
upon any one. The girl went off several times to wait on the guests,
came back, and with the utmost patience helped him make his choice.

Mozart, on a bench near the alley, saw and heard, with great amusement,
all that was going on. As much as he was interested in the good,
sensible girl, with her calm and earnest countenance, he was still more
entertained by the countryman who, even after he had gone, left Mozart
much to think about. The master, for the time being, had changed places
with him; he felt how important in his eyes was the small transaction,
how anxiously and conscientiously the prices, differing only by a few
kreutzers, were considered. "Now," he thought, "the man will go home to
his wife and tell her of his purchases, and the children will all wait
until the sack is opened, to see if it holds anything for them; while
the good wife will hasten to bring the supper and the mug of fresh
home-brewed cider, for which her husband has been keeping his appetite
all day. If only I could be as happy and independent waiting only on
Nature, and enjoying her blessings though they be hard to win! But if my
art demands of me a different kind of work, that I would not, after all,
exchange for anything in the world, why should I meanwhile remain in
circumstances which are just the opposite of su