his forehead--"my
thoughts are at times so curious I cannot exactly tell how things are."

"I understand," said the baron; "that is an old story. Now, go.
Huelsmeyer will probably put you up for another night; come again
tomorrow."

Herr von S. felt the deepest sympathy with the poor chap; by the next
day he had decided where to lodge him; he should take his meals in the
castle and his clothing could, of course, be provided for too. "Sir,"
said John, "I can still do something; I can make wooden spoons and you
can also send me on errands."

Herr von S. shook his head sympathetically. "But that wouldn't work so
remarkably well."

"Oh, yes, sir, if once I get started--I can't move very fast, but I'll
get there somehow, and it won't be as hard as you might think, either."

"Well," said the Baron, doubtfully, "do you want to try it? Here is a
letter to P. There is no particular hurry." The next day John moved into
his little room in the house of a widow in the village. He carved
spoons, ate at the castle, and did errands for the Baron. On the whole
he was getting along tolerably well; the Baron's family was very kind,
and Herr von S. often conversed with him about Turkey, service in
Austria, and the ocean. "John could tell many things," he said to his
wife, "if he wasn't so downright simple."

"More melancholic than simple," she replied; "I am always afraid he'll
lose his wits some day."

"Not a bit of it," answered the Baron; "he's been a simpleton all his
life; simple people never go crazy." Some time after, John stayed away
much longer than usual on an errand. The good Frau von S. was greatly
worried and was already on the point of sending out people, when they
heard him limping up the stairs.

"You stayed out a long time, John," she said; "I was beginning to think
you had lost your way in the forest of Brede."

"I went through Fir-tree Hollow."

"Why, that's a long roundabout way! Why didn't you go through the Brede
Woods?"

He looked up at her sadly. "People told me the woods were cut down and
there were now so many paths this way and that way that I was afraid I
would not find my way out. I am growing old and shaky," he added slowly.

"Did you see," Frau von S. said afterwards to her husband, "what a
queer, squinting look there was in his eyes? I tell you, Ernest, there's
a bad ending in store for him!"

Meanwhile September was approaching. The fields were empty, the leaves
were beginning to fall, and