nded me the book, and what I read there filled me
with gratitude and devotion. When our feelings are most violently
agitated, we cannot give definite shape to our ideas. We, too, sing
melodies that have been arranged by others. Our lips repeat the words
of poets who have sung and suffered for us; for the poet's heart, in
truth, contains the New Jerusalem of civilization. The great gulf that
separates man from the beast, the plant, or the stone, is the
possession of sympathy, by means of which men are enabled to
anticipate, or to follow, each other's emotions. From the beginning
until now, humanity has been chanting an undying melody in which my
voice, too, forms a part. An everlasting sun, of whose rays I am one,
has been lighting the path from generation to generation. The silent
mountains outlast the races of men and no new one is added to their
number; but, from generation to generation, new watch-towers of thought
arise from the soul of humanity.

*

A happy death is the greatest good. Wondrous power of religion! Over
the couch of the sick, there are bell-pulls, reaching into heaven, by
which the patient is enabled to draw himself up and support himself. He
imagines them there, even in their absence, and, supported by faith,
thinks that he is holding fast to them.

*

After the grandmother's death, a strange feeling of quiet rested on the
house. It was a great comfort to Walpurga to know that there were so
many people at the funeral.

"Yes, they all honored her; but they really didn't know her. You and I
knew her. Do you remember, Hansei, when the potatoes were stolen from
the field, and she said; 'If one only knew who stole them,' and I said:
'Mother, would you inform against them?' 'You foolish thing,' she
answered, reproachfully, 'how could you think I'd mean that? What I
mean is: if we only knew who the people are that stole our potatoes
during the night. They must know that we have but little, ourselves;
and they must be very unfortunate people, whom we ought to help as much
as we can afford to.' Yes, she said that; was there ever another
creature who'd think of such a thing? That's the way the saints must
have been who thought so kindly of all. She had no fear of the sick,
nor hatred of the wicked. Her only thought was, how much they must have
suffered before they got so sick or so wicked. If I could only grow to
be like her. Remind me