emind me of that scene.

*

To-day, Jochem confided to me the one grief that clouds his life: "They
lead old oxen and cows to the slaughter-house," said he; "old horses
and old dogs they shoot, and old men they feed to death--that's all the
difference."

*

The dwelling-house on our farm has been neglected and is sadly in need
of repair; but Hansei is not inclined to begin building at once.

"We must make shift with the old house," he says, "the work must be
done first." And, besides this, he has a certain dread of what people
may say. The house had been good enough for those who had been there
before him--why shouldn't it be good enough for him?

Even the farmer, on his lonely estate, is not perfectly independent. He
who cares for the opinion of others, must allow it to affect his
actions.

These are the chains that make slaves of us all.

*

(March 1st.)--Joy and happiness have entered the house. New light has
awakened in me, too, as if my life were something more than mere
darkness. Walpurga has a boy. Hansei's happiness is complete, and he
never mentions the boy except as "the young freeholder."

*

The christening is over. I felt sorry that I was unable to accompany
them to church, but I could not.

*

I have laid the peasant's garb aside. It was in place while I was a
fugitive, but now I have no further need of it. I wear dresses of
simple calico, like those worn by many of the country people who employ
themselves with housework. All that I have retained is my green hat,
which I find quite useful, as it helps to hide my face.

I have laid aside many outer garments; how many inner ones must I still
put off?

*

Fear and anxiety are gradually leaving me.

I have been at the village, and for the first time. The houses stand
apart, on the mountain meadows. Viewed from above, they almost look
like a scattered flock of sheep.

*

The rushing of the waters and the rustling of the forests sound so
strangely at night, and yet the rushing and rustling are unceasing. How
vain, how small is the child of man!

*

Oh, how delightful it is to be awakened by the song of the finch, and
to find all nature refreshed by the invigor