^nm m: '-"'v^i w^^'m^m WA W%, LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Chapi Copyright No.,J..?_-- Shelf. LL9S UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. M j^<^,,)i\);;fi GATHERED BY THE WAY. GATHERED BY THE WAY. \ "=— J5t^$:^;j-- 1895. THE JULES JACOBSON PUBLISHING CO. ST. PAUL, MINN., U. S. A. To -^^^ Entered nccordlng to act of Congress In the oHice of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C, In the year 1895. \ THE PUBLISHEES TO THE PEOPLE. This volume contains a collection of epigra/m- niatical sayings, poems and prose writings that, mostly under the mask of fiction, convey observa- tions of human existence, in its various forms, to the reader's mind. The author claims that it is a kaleidoscopewhichwillfascinatefrom beginning to end. To philoisophers the "Birdseye vievs-'B" will be new. For those who wish to be ententaimed solely, the second part, consisting of short, well written, humorous and pathetic stories, will be a welcome gift. The lover of poetry will have, in the third part, a series of patriotic songs, for instance, on Abraham Lincoln, George Washington, etc., asad lyrical effi]sions, that will keep him interested, to say the least. The reader who wishes to know what treasures of literature the Germans own will find, in the last paort, mastierpieces of Goethe, Heine, Freilig.rathjOhamiisso and especially FRITZ REUTEE, whose humoristic works are alto- gether unknown to the English speaking nations. These translations! are nearly verbal and return the full sense of their originals, and will be welcoime to all, for reasiooos named in the introductory note of the author on the following page, tO' which we call special attention. INTKODUCTION. Gentle Reader: It is somewhat difficult for me to decide whether I have to( excuse the existence of the miscellaneous writings, in rhyme and prose, here following. In our materialistic age human kind deem it more expedient to listen toi the rhythms of hammer and anvil than to those of metrical sounds, or to an earnest discussion, and are only too prone to con- sider their producer a lily, growing idly on the field, (if nothing worse!) because he did not create something which causes them bodily comfort; aa, for instance, a device for raising children without work, or other labor-saving tools, would be. However, since this collection grew, as its title indicates, in rain and shine, as is the case with all literary products (i. e., that they are natives of brain and heart and sprout out of them, as the plants issue from the turf,) the pieces forming the same are only expected to be read by those who can understand the pleasure they caused me, when I wrote them down, in couree of my meditations over the occurrences of daily life, or my investi- gations into the past, (that real looking-glass of the present,) and wlio will not blame me for liaving spent my leisure (often caused by sickness and other interruptioiiis of that organ on which we grind for a living) on these musings. The translations which form the last part of this; volume a.re trials tO' transplant some of the most popular poems of the Fatherland intoi our not very flexible language. As I had lived in Germany to my fortieth year and made belle-letters a special study, I probably knew better than others how to select such pieces as deserve the difficult task of a translation. The reader will find among them some of FRITZ REUTER'S stories which, thus far, area hidden treasure to the English, on account of his dialect. * My object was to^ enable those who are suffering to laugh away an hour of care, in which this greatest of all humorists has so well suc- ceeded that no German household is left vnthout one of his books. .J. J. ST. PAUL. October, 1895. ♦Since this was written I learned that two prose pieces of this gifted poet have i^Adv been translated. alread7 been translated. CONTENTS. PAGE The Man in the Moon 1 PART I. Birdseye Views. A Young Philosopher .8 Eureka 9 Do We Live Forever . . . ■ . . .9 Death 10 Land, Land . . . • 11 Creeds 11 Christianity 11 Judaism . .12 Are We Progressing 12 Torch-Bearers 13 The Time to Die 13 Money-Making 13 Indulging in Luxury 14 A Pendant 14- Diversity of Man 14 Diogenes 15 Improve Abilities . .15 Results of Education 16 Communism . 16 ' What We Work for 16 Children .17 Bellamy 17 Sports 17 Slang in Gospel Work 18 Negroes .18 I)e Mortuis 18 Property Woman's Right Noblesse Oblige Constitutions Philosophy Belle-Letters and Arts . . . . Quality of Literature .... Literati of America Artist's Life Schiller and Goethe Thomas Carlyle Genius Snowdrifts Evils Protective Policy .... Ireland Powderly, Debs, and Others Inner Chill The Pocketbook Second Marriage What Kind of People Live in the World Who Gets the Flour .... Criticisms Riches .... Hands of Fools Enjoyments Best Physic . Best Investment Universal Rule Upright Man Trust .... Three C's Matrimonial PART II. University Stories. The Three Slates Rabbi Joseph Halevy .... Francesco Francia . . . . The Goose Deal ..... The Student's Alter-Ego A Smart Client ..... The Penitent PAGE The Last Will of Guiseppe Bartholo . . . .58 The Crucifix ..... . . . 61 Nobody Escapes Azrael ...... 72 The Legend of Alexander .... . .74 The First Locomotive 78 PART in. Poems. My Poems 82 Hail America . .83 On George Washington's Birthday . . . . 85 Abraham Lincoln 86 General Sherman's Death . . . . 87 Colonel E. P. Jacobson 88 Song of the Emigrant ... .89 Little Violet 90 By the Sea 90 Verses for a Young Girl's Birthday .... 91 The True Bard 92 Evening Chimes ........ 93 PART IV. Translations, Biographies, etc. Biography 103 It is Steadily Growing Worser in the World .105 How Didst Thou Get in 105 The Help 106 Reversed ......... 107 A Little Different 108 The Headache 108 Reverence for His Dukeship's Coat . . • . 109 That's Him 110 Correct Arithmetics ....... Ill On What? 112 Our Schoolman on His Books is Smart, but Willy Gets of Him the Start 113 How Does This Happen . .114 Bon Jour, Bon Jour ....... 114 The Blind Cobbler Boy .116 The Right One Finally Gets It 117 Oh, Joching Pass, Thou Art a Capital A.ss . . 118 CONTENTS. PAGE The Graves on the Lawn ...... 123 Biography 125 Pilgrimage to Kevlar .... 126 Napoleon's Grenadiers ....... 129 By the Sea 130 Lotus Flower 131 Fisher Maiden 131 On a Love Song's Wings 132 Thou Art Like a Floweret 133 Biography 134 Pupil of Magic 136 Found in the Woods 139 The Wandering Bell 140 FRKII.IGRATH. Biography ........ 141 The Revenge of the Flowers .... . 142 The Lion's Ride 145 CHAMISSO. Biography 148 Woman's Love and Life .150 Faust 158 Miscellaneous. La Hate 172 The Open Window 172 Herrn A. Steinlein 173 Bin TrilDut 174 THE MAN IN THE MOON. I. Who of ye, my esteemed readers, did not al- ready have an opportunity to see, on some bright evening, the man in the moon look down on him, and to notice what singular features his face has, how he keeps his right eye wide open, while his left one is tightly shut ; and how distorted his lips are, as though they Avere moved by some kind of an ironical laugh ? But have ye ever thought it worth your while to ask why it has this peculiar expres- sion? I do not believe ye have, but I did, when one sum- mer night I was up late and wandered through the valley, where the small town I lived in lay enwrapped in a mantle of green trees an,d shrubs, that I might enjoy the invigorating fragrance of the vegetation and view the fine landscape, at this unusual hour. As every living thing, except the moon-man and myself, had gone to sleep, and it was very quiet _; GATHKKKI) IIY THK WAY. around me, I listened atlentively, and could hear the companion of my ui}>lit ramble talk; and, upon my question what caused him to make such a Avry f;ice, he answered very civilly; and ye now shall also hear Avhat he had to remark: "I have been making these spherical journeys about the earth, on which ye human beings live in such great numbers, since many, many a night, have seen, year after yeai", her seasons change, Avinter go by, spring begin, summer witli its ripen- ing power leave, fall with its wealth of fruit ar- rive, and the harvesting croAvds gather in the plentj' Providence has sent them, and I often thought how happy man could be if he only knew better how to govern his passions, if he had a grain of love, an ounce ot common-sense, and two or more ounces of good behavior in him. Then there would be found very few suffering people on this planet of yours, and, instead of being a valley of sorroAV, as the people call it, it would be a gar- den of roses, wherein human kind could live as peaceably with each other as your great-great- grandparents, Adam and Eve, used to live in Par- adise, before the snake of Greed and Envy had moved their innocent souls to do evil. "But in plaice of love, reason, and good manners, Avhat, mj- mortal friend, must I see go on, on earth? Instead that man should remember that, after all, the richest born has only a short life before him, of which half is spent beforehand to prepare him for it, and the other half in sickness and work, and that he, like his compeer, the beggar, must soon sink into the grave, leaving everything to others; that he has only one stomach which he dares not fill with too manv delicacies without GATHERED BY THE WAY. d hui-ting his health; that he, at the higheist, can ■wear one suit of clothes in the siimmei' and two in the winter, just like his poorer brothers — I see him act like a wild lion, or a cunning fox, or some- times like both, as though he should starve the next hour if not imitating them. "Envious, quaiu'elsome and violent, he cannot rest as long as he sees his neighbors eat their food in peace, and were it the most humble existence the latter lead. He begrudges and disturbs their small enjoyments and tries to set himself into possession of them, often giving up (like that dog in Aesop's Fable who, seeing the piece of meat he bore in his mouth reflected in the water, snapped at it, and lost both) for imagined wealth the good he has, and believing himself bedded on thorns, while others sleep on roses. "Greed of gain and egotism, the never-djdug Hy- di'as' of man's life, do not permit him even to rest at night, while I am shining on him and watching foi' his safet}', — but cause him to invent schemes, by which he migJit defraud others, or tear the piece of bread he sees them eat from their mouth; thus; changing his night into day, making him get up next day with a heaidache and uuable to enjoy wliait he could, if he remained well. "When, I look at these things going on the whole year around, century after century, see the teach- ings of the wise men unnoticed, nay, shunned, and these persons sometimes even crucified, — ^and the existing silliness bequeathed from father to sion, from son to grandchild, with an astounding per- severance, and, at the same time, find that animals can be tamed while man cannot, — I often think this species of fork-shaped beings, on whom the 4 GATHERED BY THE WAV. Lord, ill preferoioe to other mortal creatures, has bestowed an exquisite physique, by letting him ■walk upright on a flat foot, and thus enabling him to stand sure, while at work; — by giving him a line-foraicd hand to use it at his convenience; — and by oiidow'ing him with that miracle of all mir- acles, "Speech," the most precious of all human treasurers, by which he so easily can communicate his tiioughts to others of his kind; — and by many other valuable qualities of body and mind, rivaling with those of angels even; — I often think, I say, that man has become splenetic and ought to be put into an insane asylum, if such a stupendous house for fools could be built, or that the very best Provi- dence could do would be to send a Deluvia, like the one the Old Testament reports, or other means of destruction, in oi-der to regenerate him, and let him learn to appreciate all the good She has given him, and force him to forego the acts of panthers, hyenas, bears and wolves, to which he is so much inclined. This is the reason, thou earth-born, who watchest me so late at night, and lookst uj) to me so inquisitively, why I gaze at ye, folks, with such a scornful laugh, as long as ye have known me. I should rather weep^ but I know it would avail nothing. "I hope, that thou, at least, wilt profit by this conversation, wilt be wiser in future and grateful to God for his great mercy. I am afraid, though, thou wouldst then be an exception, and thiat the rest of the world will remain as stupid as they were in the past, and will continue to do evil; and that I shall have to look down for a long time yet and laugh at their follies, until some one, sim- ilar to thee, comes and asks me the same quea- GATHERED BY THE WAY. tion, and hereupon I sluall i"elax once more and haA^'e sncli am agreeable talk a® I just had with thine esteemed pers'on. And now, good-bye, my friend. I advise thiee, go to bed, sleep soundly and without dreams, and, when thou getst up to- morrow, make a note of what I have told thee. It may do some good, if others read it; and, if thou wishest to know more about the doings of men, come to me some other time." After tlie man in the moon had spoken this, he retired behind the curtain of his cloud-chamber, leaving me to myself, to meditate over the strange encounter. I then went home, slept, and next morning, I wrote down what I could remember of his words. II. The pleasant conversation I had with him in- duced me to a, second trial to meet my lunar friend, and thus, two months or so la tea-, having an idle Saturday to dispose of, I stayed up late, anxious to know what the moon-man had alluded to when cldsing his lirst speech. The night was not as clear ais the one wherein I saw him before, and his coun- tenance looked somewhat yellowish; so I thought, he Av^ould ]iot be as communicative as in the former, but in this I wais niisitaken. He said that the weather was very changeable of late and he had caught a cold, as dust-created beings sometimes do; nevertheless he would speak to me, though his voice might sound somewhat hoarse. I asked him, what more he could say about the wickedness of the world, and also remarked that he seemed pes- simistic, as I know, among mine own acquaintan- C) GATHKKKD HY THE WAV. res, people who acted far better than he h.id de- scribed man to me. Hereupon he replied : "I have been aware of the fact that here and there a con- scientious one is born, but the jji-eat majoritj' fol- low the Avaj's of the sister-cities of old. I have been, mj-self, sometimes puzzled, and became desiiH)us to get nearer to facts ; so' I once prayed to the Lord of CreatioB to change me for a time into one of the human bodies, as other heavenly Beings had been before, and let me live its life, enjoy its joys and suffer its sufferings. This God granted, and thus, one day, I was born the child of a mer- chant in a town not far fix)m New York City. This happened about ten to twelve years after the battle of 'Waterloo. I remember my dear mother, who died very young, to have been a pale-com- plected, blue-eyed lady, with flaxen hair, altogether an Anglo-Saxon beauty. I was the youngest of five boys, somewhat feeble but otherwise remark- ably, precocious. Thus, for instance, I knew to read at three, and at six I was so efficient in Al- gebra that my teacher gave up his lessons. One feat of my memory w^1s, especially, noteworthy. If one. of my parents put the finger on a page of tha Bible, I could tell all the verses on the following ones that were under the same spot. Thus I was exhibited as a prodigy to all our neighbors, and even people from Boston came to see this perfomi- ance. But I knew nothing of my prenatal exist- ence, until I was dead, and restored to my heaven- ly life. "In this period, which lasted somewhat like fifty- five years, I have been driven around among mortal men of all classes and besides other little things, that may deserve penisal, I wrote down my miscel- GATHERED liV THE WAY. ( laneous observations of their life and manners with tlie intention to publish a volume before my death; but I vpas suddenly talien off by one of those too frequent railroad accidents in the United States, and having reassumed my lunar existence, my plan did not materialize. I kept, however, the roll of paper, and if thou vnlt agree to bring its contents before the public, thou shalt have the privilege of treating it as thine ow^n." I thanked the man of the moon for his great kind- ness, and said I would have it printed with the speech he gave me at our first meeting; upon which 1 saw a white scroll come down slowly over me, until my right hand could reach it; and, hav- ing secured it, I went home, read it and now do as I agreed. What the rnoDU man says iu his day book : FIRST PART. BIRDSEYE VIEWS. A YOUNG PHILOSOPHEK. I often meditate over the uselessness of our higher endeavors, Avheu seeing how little the chances in life are according to justice, the fools and scoundrels enjoying the apples of Paradise, while the wise gnaw dry crumbs of bread to quiet their hunger, and are exposed to hardships the average mortal does not know of, Nature seems altogether to ignore character in single individu- als, and to want him to live his diurnal part of animal life with the daily motion of Mother Earth around her axis. This reminds me of a little niece I had that was a bom philosopher, and of her con- versation with mine old, venerable mother: Gran- ny, said the child, one day, to her, what kind of a GATHERED BY THE WAY. 9 buisiness is this? We get up early, at seven o'clock, breakfast, and then papa goes to his office, to cornel back at twelve, when we dine; after which he lies down for a nap, to leave an hour later. He then returns at six, takes his supper, reads papers, and retires at nine or ten, to begin the same thing oveil again the next moiTiing; and thus it goes on the whole year. The very question I have often asked myself, but, indeed, children and fools expect an answer! EUREKA. What follows will probably offend the optimists, but the truth of it cannot be doubted. Has not Voltaire offered half his immortality for a good di- gestion, and should not we also have the same de- sire? I think human kind is not advancing in civiliza- tion because there is such a small number of wise men existing, and these few appear to have no suc- cess in matters of daily life. All the great think- ers, from Socrates down, drank the cup of suffering, and were poor. I was theref one on the lookout for a prototype of happiness, but could not find it among the genus homo; till once, on a hot Sum- mer-day, when doing some garden-work in front of my house, I saw a mule standing in the scorching sun, near my fence, chewing straw: "Eureka," I ejaculated. "A isitomach to digest the coarsest food, aa epidermis proof against rain and shine, and the small brain, not exerting itself about matters of higher life — is vs^hat makes existence tolerable." DO WE LIVE FOREVER? We were young and grew old and shall die, and rest in the turf, under the blue tent of Heaven, 10 G.VTIIICKEI) UY THK WAV. golden rays and green trees, with merry birds in their branches, above us. We shall lie in that great sarcophagus in which the princes, prophets, poets iiud other great and wise men of all ages, lay down for an undisturbed rest. But shall we then hear the voices of our beloved ones, left to tears and mourning over our departure? Shall we tlien feel the warm touch of their lips? Life is sweet and desirable if the crown of Love and Tenderness adorn it. What is love? Can materialism persuade us that it is a motion of our organism caused, by the inner heat of the planet on which we live? We may readily admit all the agniostics say regarding our future existence; still there is something left to contradict our absolute annihilation, especially of the feeling towards those who are connected with us by ties unbreakable. We therefore claim: "Death cannot terminate our being forever, and love will outlast our life." DEATH. In presence of the dead, we repeat the old ques- tion : Can their life end with their burial? Shall that face that smiled on us but yesterday, those pressing arms that embraced us so tenderly, that warm lip that kissed our forehead so lovingly, be silent forever, and shall all this only be a transient dreain that offered us rest and recreation for a while, to disappear with Life's last beam? No, no, all the contrary arguments notwithstanding, our being does not end here; — this immortal spark in ourselves called "Love" cannot be erased by the relentless tyrant "Death," soft as our sleep ever GATHERED BY THE WAY. 11 may be, among the beautiful beings surrounding the scene of our graveyards. LAND, LAND! We need religion, but not the one orthodoxy per- sists in preaching. They scatter a pile of matter with a fe^v kei'nels of gold between it. Sensible preachers avoid the repetition of the miany mira- cles repoi'ted, as there are people who doubt their reality. But our lives cannot be useless; the ques- tions Whence? Where? Whither? will renew themselves, like the heads of the amciemt Hydra that could not be killed. As fair ais we know, we stait towards the goal, not conscious of its real na- ture,, and all our endeavors iseem to be a modus opeirandi only, by which we ti'y to amiive at some Utopia — ^and, like our great Ohr-istopher, let us sail on, until either we or our posterity can hail: "Land, La.nd!" CKEEDS. It seems to us a deprivation of their natural rights to educate one's posterity in a religion in- herited from our forefathers. It ought to be suf- ficient to plant into the heart of the young a gen- eral understanding of morals, and leave the de- cision as to which church they wish to belong ex- clusively to themselves, until they are able to- se- lect one. The automatical learning of ceremonies produces only a liypocrisy or indifference, bringing forth that state of affairs which is more of a con- ventional lie than an inner conviction. CHKISTIANITY, The principles advanced in the New Testament are the highest precepts the mind of man ever pro- i^ GATHERED BY THE WAY. duced, but their realization borders on impossibil- ity, — a fact sincere man cannot deny. All our com- mandments aa'e the product of necessity, and most- ly embraced in Avhat we call Koman, Mosaic or Common Law, and enthusiasm is, and ought to be^ excluded from every-day existence. All creeds seem to contain enough of the moral to produce good citizenship, which is all we can demand. We need no Don Quixotes in human so- ciety, they are a nuisance. JUDAISM. We find the English-speaking nations know nO' distinction between Jews that come from the West- ern part of Europe and those from the East. A Russian Hebrew, and the French and German are in their education 'as far apart as the population oil their respective countries is. This shows, that it is never a race which is wicked, but climate, soil, and especially govemmeint, produce a good or evil man.^ AliE WE PROGRESSING? We do not deny we made headway in civiliza- tion. Our progi'ess in mechanical devices, as they were suggested by old Bacon, and his followers, is something remarkable, and life has become easier for the frailer race now inhabiting the globe. It hardly counterbalances, however, the wonderful achievements of the ancients, which we find scat- tered all over the world; nor can we even boast the arts the Middle-Ages produced. With all our accomplishments, we have not attained perfection in the single individual, but made existence some- what more tolerable for the masses, which we may consider a step forward in the right direction. gathi-;ki-;u hv tui-; wav. !-> TOIICH-BEAKEKS. A feAV there are who swing the oriflamme of cul- ture and show it to the many. The latter have no time for it; they must eat, drink, amuse them- selves, and die. The work of the sage and gentle is neither noticed, nor appreciated. There lives, hoAvever, here and there, a wight on a small com- petence, who reads tomes in the manner noble Longfellow describes in the "Belfry of Bruges." Tliese flag-bearers recognize the merits of those who acted before their time, and show their images to the present generation; thus upholding those principles which are a heritage of humanity, and can never be lost to them, altogether, notwith- standing the indifference of the crowd. THE TIME TO DIE. When we grow old and look around us, we find things greatly changed; the old are dead, and the young do not understand us. Matters which com- menced with us are finished, and the artisans who reared the edifices are no more. Why then linger here among strangers? We believe we have be- come obsolete, as some members of organisms, ac- cording to Darwin. The best therefore we can do is to Avrap ourselves into the mantle of forgetf ul- ness, the Greeks used to call Lethe, and lie down for an undisturbed sleep. MONEY-MAKING. The increase of our worldly poissiessions takes up, nowadays, all our attention. Mankind gamble, lie, steal, bankrupt, burn, and do all kiiids of crooked work to acquire them. The more they have, the more they want, but their faces grow longer and paler at the same time. This reminds us of 14- GATHEREIJ UY THE WAY. Horace's "Parturiunt monies, nascitur ridiculus raus." For this short ]ifo-time, so much of trou- ble and worry. INDULGING IN LUXURY. It is a sign of recklessness to indulge in luxuries of all kinds, for instance, champagne-driaking, a fine cuisine, dressing in silk, -walking on flowers, and many more of suclnsnperfluitie.s, while our fel- lownien have no place to lay their heads upon, at night, and no coin for a meal, and our widows and orphans starve and freeze. It would seem an addi- tion to human progress if laws could be made to prohibit such customs, so that the poor oould re- ceive a share of the world's gifts. As long as Leg- islation cannot make laws like these, the wise ought to confine themselves and their families to the most economical style of living agreeing with health and comfort. This would mean a realiza- tion of the Biblical command: "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." A PENDANT. Were I a sculptor, I would form two figures with my chisel ; one representing Niotoe, surrounded by her prostrate children, with the inscription on her pe GATHERED IIV THE WAY. abilities; thus preparing; for all changes that may occur in the future; these endowments to be men- tal as well as physical. EESULTS OF EDUCATION. As much as we have observed, education does not contribute much to change character. There are more inborn qualities in man than our school- wisdom dreams of. The lion produces no lamb, and the sheep no whelp, — that is the rule. When we grow old, we usually find our own inclinations repeated in our children. Let us be lambs our- selves, or our lessons will be thrown on the street. COMMUNISM. The first Christians were Communists. Modern feeling is against it, however, because it enhances idleness in single individuals, as practice has suifi- oiently demonstrated. Still it remains our duty to identify ourselves with the needy. Elector Fred- erick of Brandenburg used to say: "When your neighbor's barn is on fire, it is time to put out the flames." Enlightened governments try to help the laboring class by providing small competences and shelter for them if they grow old and helpless, and for their families if they die young. This system ought to be adopted by all bodies-politic, so as to deserve the beautiful epithet: "Fatherland." WHAT WE WORK FOE. The beginning and end of human wisdom should be the felicity of the masses. Human progress does not mean the welfare of the few, but the hap- pineiss of the majority of people. GATHERED BY THE WAY. 17 CHILDKEN. The llomans had remarkable laws regarding children, worth our emulation. Pliny begs Caesar to free his private secretary and friend from tax- paying, by bestowing on him the right of Trium Infantum, so that Suetooius might be able to write his books in peace. In modern times, the abomina- tion of sacrificdng to Moloch has assumed mon- strous j)ropoi'tions, so that one imagines himself living in Rome at the beginning of the Christian era. We shall soon have to make Eoman laws in order to become truly religious. BELLAMY. The last much-read novel of this gifted auflior contains some very interesting remarks regarding those who rear a family. As though it were not troublesome enough for a poior woman to pass sleepless nights in ordeir to preserve her offspring! Has legislation no power to repay the burden of parents, and shall the production of man become a punishment to the producer? The advocates of childlessness ought to remember that they would not exist but for parental caiPe. SPORTS. The land is full of sports as soon as spring be- gins. We see everywhere, horse-races, regattas, ball-playing, boxing, wrestling, fencing, cock-fight- ing, and many gymnastical enjoyments of the most cruel kind, often terminating in blood, and with the advancing time, the Esau of old gets fiercer and fiercer. And herewith is connected that mental sport which is nearly as bad, nay, far worse than the principal sin: It is called betting. I do not 18 GATHKRED BY THE WAY. know wbether the ancient Hebrew people knew what betting was. If they had known this mod- ern suicide, Moses w'onld have made eleven com- mandments instead of ten, and the eleventh would read: "Thou shalt not bet." SLANG IN GOSPEL WORK. The edification of the crowd by slang is work that destroys on one side Avhat it builds up on the other. Such is done by our modern apostles, Sam Small and Sam Jones. We are inclined to call them pugilists in the arena of the Christian church. "What fools these moi"t.als be!" NEGROES. The claim that tlie NegTO cannot be civilized, is an error or a malice. I have met with some su- perior, in mental and moral endowments, to an average Irish, Polish, Canadian, or other man. This is a new^ proof, that it is not the inborn dis- qualification of a cea'tain species, but the degrading influence of the lands in which people live, that pro- duces the fool and the wicked. DE MORTUIS. We do not wish to be blamed for impiety when speaking of the departed. The people of America fought two great wars that will 'make them im- mortal. The liberating of the negro, however, ex- eels the war of the Revolution, because of its cos- mopolitan character, and its having wrested the sword from the fist of the mighty, and disabled him forever to enslave his brother. But why the Gov- ernment allowed the tigers who headed the lasting disgrace to live peacably within its borders, those who have lost relatives in the bloody struggle can- GATHERED BY THE WAY. 19 not well comprehend. It is a curious enough spec- tacle to see a single individual oppose the whole moral w^ovld, that had decided this question be- forehand, and rather let the blood-cemented Union be rent asunder than yield to common sense. The only fit place for this man %vas England, that made hersielf his acoomplice, and where his friend Judah Benjamin found shelter. Such generosity seems, absurd, and to be a weakness, opening the road to new sins. But be this as it may: "An eternal bliss in Heaven for Thee, immcrtal champion of human Freedom, Thou noble soul, Abraham Lin- coln."' PROPEETY. It is curious to see how much the doctors of jurisprudence exert themselves to give the owner- ship of property a solid foundation, but it is in vain to demonstrate to the young disciple the real- ity of the so-called natural right. There remains nothing but labor to perpetuate possession, and other claims disappear before the digjiocting power of tlie brain, as mists before the sun. The Social- ists know only too w^ell, that force alone, fur- nished by society, can make wealth last on one side, and poverty on the other. Unluckily, our educa- tion, in school and at home, is only too much adapted to teach how to take advantage of those who are poor. Hoav little, for instance, does a child know what interest is ; it takes quite a while to make him understand its nature. If we could omit some arithmetic in our schools, and insert, instead of it, natural science, history, geography, and gymnastics, all of which we neglect, we would produce a posterity bodily strong and mentally 20 GATHERED BY THE WAY. noble, or, as the IJomans used to say : Mens sana iu corpore sano. WOMAN'S RIGHT. Women have just as good a right to professions as men, but whether it benefits society to see the weaker sex assume the place of the stronger, and reduce the male to the duties of the female, is an- other question. It is odd to see a man rock a baby, while madame is Avriting a deed for a piece of laud. However, where a woman wishes to re- main single, or has become a widow, she ought to be on equal terms Avith the man. She must, there- fore, learn to handle business matters rightly, in order to be able to support hei'self if forced to it, otherwise lier duty is to be a good housewife, and leave trade to her husband. NOBLESSE OBLIGE. Newspapers have assumed a great power in the world, but the adage of old is still correct. Every contribution to enlighten the public, especially per- taining to the lot of the poor, should be welcome. At the same time, editors ought to be careful not to create jealousy ot exaggerate, a. sin they commit continually. If Dante were to finish his Divina Commedia to-day, he would make a special bolge in Inferno, where punishment would be applied to sinners by the pen. An ablution with ink would be the thing to make the Devil appear externjally what he is internally. CONSTITUTIONS. It is righrt; to be enthusiastic ajbout one's Father- lajnd. I know the Czar's subjects love Russia as much as Prussians and Yankees love their coun- GATHERED BY THE WAY. 21 try. But wide-awake men look ait all things with- out prejudice. The Earth is not a garden of roiseSj but countries are governed worse or better, and produce a state of affairs where man can live a vItj tuous life, or vice-versa,. We prefer a constitu- tional monarchy and compare it with a republic about as follows : The first one is like a span of horses hitched to a wagon that has a tongue, to which they are at- tached, thus forcing them to propel the vehicle as soon as they pull, whatever their differences may be. The republic may be compared to a span of horses attached toi a wagon where the tongue is missing; the steeds do not agree, and are not suf- ficiently held together by a mediating power; and thus the wagon is very easily brought to a stop. I have lived under both forms of Government a long period, and close observation seems to jus- tify this comparison, as not being a mere specula- tion.* PHILOSOPHY. Kenan says, man is admirable, because, amid hard struggles for an existence, and other un- avoidable trials of human life, he finds time for transcendental matters. And this is very true! All our endeavors in philosophy centre in the de- sire to discover the full nature of the plan of the Universe, and how we can connect our individual being with it, so as toi act in harmony with the de- signs of a Heavenly power, Avhatever this may be. But the road tO' accomplish this laudable object, how difficult! We must admire the ideas of the *L Wish to state that I po not atcree with my Heavenly patron here. I presume he was led to an opinion of this kind by the silly acta of Congress In the important questions of abolishing the silver purchases and lowering the tariff. In monarchial lands an appeal to the people could have been taken by the executive, through a dissolution of parliament. As it is, it took fully two years sor the suffering trade to recuperate. -- GATHERKI) IIV THE WAY. great thinkers, who devote their time and ener- gies to it, but verj- small, alas, is the rewult of their investigations. All we know is that we live in space and time a short day, and that we must improve our own and our neighbors' existence, aind that it is a sin to be careless about things that sur- round us. But how and to Av hat end? Who dares to answer these puzzling questions? BELLE-LETTEKS AND ARTS. Sincerity of sentiment, and its expression in ad- equate terms, is real literature. Every superflu- ous woiitl must be avoided in a work that wishes to deserve this epithet. The selection of the worthiest objects environ- ing us, and their reproduction in a, striking man- ner by speech, musical sounds, paiut, marble, and so forth, constitute art, and are the ladder to per- fection. QUALITY OF LITERATURE. Some writers need half a life-time to produce a book; others can write one every six months. Thus the eagle and lion produce only one or two young, while hogs have them by the dozen. LITERATI OF AMERICA. The realistic is the main feature of our litera- ture, in contrast with most of the writings of our European brethren; some few excepted, who held a looking-glass before Nature. The newness of objects in the vast land, unadul- terated by human art and culture, made imagina- tion I'eturu to her sources and drink thereof; hence this grasp into the Natural, and the singular, sur- prising minuteness in details. GATHERED BY THE WAY. ^o ARTIST'S LIFE. We are too much inclined to criticise other peo- ple, but chiefly the conspicuous person who calls himself an artist. And, indeed, there is some jus- tice in tliat. Persons who have the ambition to be known by their fellowmen and spoken of, ought to try to be examples; but this is very often neg- lected, and sin looks twice as ugly when the mask of obscurity is thrown aside. SOHILLEK AND GOETHE. When young, Ave were pondering over a single sentence of these great writers, until impregnated with its meaning. For young people, Schiller, the prince of all poets, has that fascination which cre- ates am enthusiasm, lasting when age makes the brain large and cripples the heart. His idealism, his earnestness in matters where human freedom is concea'ned, have a power to excite imitation, un- equalled by any writer of ftlden and newer times. It was his good luck that he died comparatively young, as he wais poor aud not very provident, which we can motice when visiting his death-cham- ber at Weimar, and he hardly could have under- gone the change that accompanies the growing ac- quaintance with matters of daily life without find- ing them deti-imental to his art. Of a different cast was Goethe. His understanding of real existence, coupled with a wonderful ability to depict inci- dents of it and idealize them, according to his fan- cy; his skepticism in matters superhuman; his investigations in things natural, — all this, coupled with the gift to enjoy or despise life alternately, makes him a prototype of human happiness, as far as such can be the case with our frail race. 2-t GATHERED HY TIIK WAY. THOMAS CAliLYLE. His work looks, at the first glance, like a heap oD waste-paper. Stir in it and yon will find dia- monds. GENIUS. The products of the artists are the single mani- festations of the Universal and the Eternal. They form a. long line of links, belonging to a chain, that extends through space and time. These links, stronger and weaker, just as chance produces theiu, are the world of the Ideal among the com- monplace things of e^v'^ei-yday life. SNOWDKIFTS. They appear toi us like the romantic past, i^our- ing down from the Heaven of our memory on the muddy turnpike of our daily life. The flakes fall and fall, imtil the gray surface of our old age is covered, with the snow-white ideals of our earlier days. EVILS. It seems we get free of small evils by the progress in the invention of means to facilitate work, and thus making duty more pleasant, — but alas, the old evil — "Life" — continues. PHOTECTIVE POLICY. A vast country, with an abundance of products; a wealth of mines, unparalleled in the world; im- mense machinery to develop all this, — ^and still ]a.bor to be protected? Who can understand it? Wo do not. IKE LAND. GlaiLstone has become the champion of the Irish race. The motto of this seems to be: "Through GATHERED BY THE WAY. ^O freedom to civilization." So it is demoiistrated over again that the brain of the scholar is the Re- deemer of the World. POWDERLY, DEBS, AND OTHERS. Theseagitators remind us of the wizard's appren- tice who incited the ghosts tO' work for him, but did not understand how to banish them back into their lifeless state when they became too turbu- lent.* INNER CHILL. We meet people who are always gentle and who treat their fellow-beings as their equals. The ma- jority of men, however, cainnat smile, or can only do so if they think they will be paid for it. This goes to show that they are unable to love anybody but themselves. THE POCKETBOOK. Soul and body are sometimes paralyzed, but when apoplexy reaches our porte-monnaie, we suf- fer most; nor does credit cure, but only extends the evil. SECOND MARRIAGE. To repeat the amiable follies of youth in older days, by marrying again, is to advertise one's dis- ability to distinguish between the seasons. WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE LIVE IN THE WORLD. Human society consists of fools and rascals, with a sprinkling of wise men, who have great trouble to get along with them. *See Goethe's Puptl of Magic, in this volume. 20 GATHERED BY THK WAV. WHO GETS THE FLOUK? The ass, who carries the wheat, never gets it. CRITICISMS. Do not judge of others before you are seventy- one. RICHES. The trip to become a rich man is over a rough roaJ. HANDS OF FOOLS. Hands of fools soil tables and walls, says a Ger- man proverb. ENJOYMENTS. Between Birth and Death, we walk, so to say, on a rope, liable to drop every moment into the abyss. And still we cling to pleasure, forgetting uur danger. Life is the very somnambulism. Those who know it are, therefore, religiously in- clined; thus trv'ing to escape tlie uncertainty by ceremonies and prayers; and who can blame them for it? BEST PHYSIC. With labor, temperance and rest, Thou art the doctor's rarest guest. BEST INVESTMENT. W'ell bred children we believe to be the best investment of man's earnings. UNIVERSAL RULE. The patient ass Eats oats and grass; The noble steed Must starve and bleed. GATHERED BY THE WAY. J( UPRIGHT MA^^. A squaro man, with simple ideas and love of truth, seems lik« one who walks straight among the lame. The latter think their manner of prom- enading correct, and carry oe a steady waorfare against the healthy ome; and nothing will make them believe that they are the ones who are limp- ing. TRUST. Some people live high, claiming man lives but once, but, when they have worn out their pocket- books, they say they are victims of hard times. Do not trust them. "THREE C'S." Keep off cards, cocktails and crowds. By the first ye'll soon be known. By Number two, on a dung-hill thrown, By Number three, to atoms blown. MATRIMONIAL. Dead husbands hardly '11 have to wait, When knocking at St. Peter's gatej For suff'rings in wedlock Open the Eden's padlock. PREFACE. Wlien I studied at Leipzig, a few friends of mine and myself formed a literary circle, which met every Saturday, to spend the evening together, exchange news, and read; and it was a rule that every member of the club had to contribute towards our amusement, by telling some interest- ing sitory. Thus this collection originated which I herein offer to my kind readers, and I trust it will entertain them as much as it did us. PART SECOND. UNIVERSITY STORIES. THE THEEE SLATES. The old seaman whom I hereby introduce to my friends, and whose name I deem it unnecessary to mention, I knew when in my teens. He had been on the main over forty years, and was a regular visitor of the South Sea Islands. The Pacific he had crossed frequently, and made the trip around the globe over a dozen times. A fine specimen of humanity he was: Tall, erect, som'ewhat fleshy, but muscular and well proportioned. He had a ruddy complexion; deep-blue eyes; white, not overlaa'ge teeth. A full, brown beard, a little darker than his hair, fell, like a cataract, over his chest; and a fine mustache was added to enhance his manly appearance. He usually wore a pair of 30 GATHERED IIY THE WAY. wide, blue pantaloons, an open vest of the same color, a light, Avoolen shirt, fastened with an ele- gant necktie, a red lined jerkin of dark-brown leather, a slouch hat, heavy-soled boots, and, for special protection in the cold season, a gray mili- tary cloak, held together by a brass hook-and-eye. He had seen many curious things, and had a very attractive manner of telling them, and thus always commanded attention when speaking. The cap- ^tain was — or, at least, I looked at him in such a light — a kind of i)hilosopher in rough and tumble. His whole personality reminded one of Professor Teufelsdroeckh, of CJarlyle fame, with the essential distinction that he had seen the world with his own eyes, and had come in contact with everything he knew, and did not speculate behind the four walls, like that hero of Weiss-nicht-wo and all other book- worms are inclined to do. In 1S25, a Russian duke, a relative of the Czar, by name of Komanzoff, planned an expedition the main object of which Avas to circumnavigate the globe, but especially to find a northwestern pas- sage, by way of Bering Strait; and my acquaint- ance, being then a lad of about eighteen, and of somewhat Gulliverish disposition, joined in the adventurous enterprise. I shall now allow our traveler to proceed in his story in the first person. The ship on which we undertook the voyage was a small man of war, of three masts and with two cannons. Her name was Eurik, in honor of the founder of the Russian dynasty. RomanzofE had liberally supplied her with money and necessaries of life, to last us two or three years. We were a crew of about thirty persoms on board, among GATHERED BY THE WAY. 31 whom I was the youngest. Our captain was Herr Kotzebue. He was a son of the German poet of the same name, whose writings were much in vogue at that time, but now are nearly forgotten. The only hiisting renown the latter won was for something done against his will; namely, he was assassinated at Wiesbaden by a fanatical student, Avho erroneously suspected him of aiding the so- named Holy- Alliance in their measures to suppress German progress, by pointing out the most en- lightened persons to the Czar — an act which caused the prosecution now to> begin in real earnest, and forced men like Hedinrich Heine, Freiligrath, and others to emigrate. The other members of our ship's crew were a botanist, who was a distant relative of mine, and born in my native city, (he was something like twen- ty-five years old, had visited the school where I was taught, and had finished his education at Goettin- gen, while I was in my fifteenth year. A young scholar of great promise, he volunteered to> join the hazardous expedition, paying his own expenses, for the purpose of enlarging his range of knowledge in natural history); a physician; a painter (this was a young artist hired by the noble duke to draM' sketches); a first and second lieutenant; and other subordinates, of whom I was one. We had to assume Eussian names. I took that of Iwan 'J''olstoinog, and my friend, the student, that of ]^icolai Andxionoff, and so on, og's, off's, amd icz's, ad infinitum. We started from Oronstadt, the fortress of the Neva; went to Gothenburg, where we took two men, belonging to our crew, on board (Scandina- vians, who also volunteered); thence we crossed 32 GATHERED UY THE WAY. the North Sea aud the French Channel, came into the Atlantic, passed on towards tlie South, leaving the Pyrenean Peninsula to the left, and stopped at the Canaries to purchase Madeira wine and to al- low our scientists to visit the peak of Tenerife, whdther they took the paintei', to miake pictures of its romantic environs. We remained there a little over a week; proceeded to Cape Verde; thence along the coast, to the Cape of Good Hope, where we stayed about thirtj- days, giving our compan- ions ample time for the exploration of its table- lands, botanizing and sketching sceneries. This being over, we again embarked, intending to land at Madagascar, but the equinoctial storms, having now set in, kept us out of it and other ports for full five weeks, until, one morning, we were aroused by tlie call, "Land!" issuing from the watch stationed at the foremast. We all ran up to look, using our magnifying glasses, and taking our maps in hand, to assist us in locating ourselves. We found the name "Salas y Gomez" inserted on that point on our chart,and saw, in a distance of about two miles, a bare, white rock hugely projecting over the waves, similar in form to a camel with two humps. As we were somewhat short of water, our cap- tain ordei'ed tAvo boats to be lowered, and eight of us — ^the botanist, our physician, and myself among their number — to attempt a landing, and thus we undertook the hazardous task of approaching the cliff. We carried our rifies and ammunition with us, in the hope of shooting something for fresh meat, for we had seen a multitude of birds on the island. The sea was calm, and we rowed to the other side of the rock, to avoid the breaker's; and there Ave saw a stream of clear water falling over GATHERED BY THE WAY. 33 the stone into a. deep cut, which, however, was so narrow that only one boat could get in at a time. We passed the light surf with some risk of capsiz- ing, but reached the inlet in safety, Avhere we an- choi'ed oiur boats. We then climbed up to the first projecting rock (a rather neck-breaking perform- ance, on account of its abruptness), and were met by an endless number of seagulls, and a few pink pelicans, with ygotj stupid countenances, coming- out of the crevices. The birds did not show the least concern at our aiTival, but stretched out their necks, as though desirous to make our acquaint- ance. When we were halfway up, in a small cav- ity, we saw their nests, of a very primitive charac- . ter, and, in them, their eggs and young, in quanti- ties sui'passing our comprehension; and, the more we advanced towards the pinacle, the more their number increased. On a sudden, Andronoff, who was ahead lof us, aud had arrived at a natural jilat- fcrm, about ten feet square, above Avhich the rock rose high into the air, pointed excitedly at a spot before him, calling upon us to huiTy. W^hen we had arrived where he stood, we saw five rows of crosses, ten to each, engraved on the stone before us. The upper rows ap'peaired to be of earlier date, and somewhat weatherworn, or effaced by footsteps. We looked around, and saw eggshells scattered about, and, a little further on, a kind of bed made of sea grass, one end raised so as to f orm a pillow, as it seemed. We approached it, and were met hj the most surprising object our imagi- nation could have dreamt of. There lay, i*esting Ids head against the rock, the long-stretched, stark- nalied form of an aged man, slenderlj- built, but muscular, who held his hands folded over his 34 GATHERED BY THE WAY. cliostas oiM^ in ])rayer, and avIiosp long', siher-white hair fell from his temples and chin over \n>i whole body, down to his thighs, covering it like a cloak. We were greatly moved at seeing the strange fig- ui"e, and, going nearer to examine it, we found that, there was some life left in the body; and, indeed, after a while we saw him open his eyes, look at us wonderingly, raise himself a little, and move his lips, as though desirous to say something. He soon, however, fell back into his first posture, and remained motionless. Our phys.ician felt his pulse and heart, and said: "All is over. Bequiescat in pace." We knelt dwvn by hiiS side, prayed, and covered his bodj- with the weeds of his couch, Avhereby three large pieces of slate were laid bare, on which many lines iu a foreign tongue had been engraved by means of some sharp instrument. My friend Andronoff said it was Spanish, and, as he Avas an able linguist, he took them along foi' peru- sal. Just then three shots, succeeding each other quicklj-, were heard, which wais the signal for us to return. We luxstened back, fresh water having meanwhile been provided, and were soon on the llurik. A\'e reported to our captain what we had seen. He said we did right to leave the man where he died, but was anxious to know the contents of those slates, and ordered my friend to forthwith render them into our native tongue. We then re- set our sails, and took the northern course towards the Sandwich Islands. A few hours later the tnanslation by my countryman was finished, and he read to us what follows : Slate the First. My father's name is Don Alfonso de Vega, a Grandee of Spain. He lived or lives yet at Madrid. He was alwavs Avealthv, but loved luonev to such GATHERED BY THE WAY. 35 an extent that he could not overcome the fact of seeing me study at Alcala at his expense, and he, therefore, applied at court to get for me an office, sio that I could earn my own living. In conse- quence of his inliuence, I was made secretary of the governor at Manjilla, I was in love with Donna Elvira de Fuogo, an accomplished young woman, daughter of a court officer; and, upon my resolu- tion to leave the Peuinsula, she consented to man*y me, and go with me to my new home. My father gave us his blessing, and we departed for the East. Having traveled several weeks, Ave stopped at tlie Cape of Good Hope, remaining there a few days, and then went agaiin on board to proceed to oui' destination. It was now the month of August, and one night, the air being very sultry in our nar- roAv cabin, I took my blanket and overcoat, and went on dock. Here I lay down, looked up to the Southern Stai", that shone down on me with a won- derful splendor, but could find no sleep. I felt rest- less, and my thoughts wandered back to my par- ents and mine old home, and a great sadness fell up- on my soul. Then I remembered my youthful biride, whose arms had just embraced me, and whose kisses I still felt warm upon my lips, and of my de- votion to her, and I became reconciled to my lot, and fell into a slight slumber. How long it lasted I do not know. On a sudden, a terrible shock awoke me, and another following threw me out of my position, and I heaa'd loud lanienitiaftions. Then followed a thundering crash, and I felt myself fall- ing and strike the water. I swam for life, and, catching a plank, I was earned to the ground, but raised again, still holding to the piece of timber. What then happened I have no recollection of. 3G GATHKRED BY THE WAY. Wlieu I came to consciousness again, I found my- self on this isolated island, between Heaven and this bare stone, the surging waves around me, the birds mine only companions — naked on a naked rock ! For many years I could see the wreck of our vessel, but could not approach it. I thought I should soon cease to live, and not be forced to envy those who perished in the disaster. Not so! Tlie birds' eggs and the Avater kept me, and probably Avill keep me alive for a long time to come. Here I am, alone, alone, with my great sorrow, and en- grave Avhat I suffer, with a seashell, on a slate, which is mure patient than my poor heart. I have no hope as yet to die. Slate the Second. 1 was sitting on shore before suni-ise, the beau- tiful Southern Cross moving slowly down the hor- izon, and announcing the approach of day. Before me lay, still in dai'kness wrapped, the East, the phosphorescent waves at my feet moving restlessly to and fro like a flowing fire. I thought this awful night would never cease, and mine eye was fixed upon the spot where the day star had to appear. 1 listened to the monotonous voice of the munnuring birds in their nests, and the foam of the Ocean, in front of me, grew pale and paler. And now the air and the sea, which had been one in my sight, began to separate; the giisteiiing st-aiis retired, one after the other, into the gigantic blue vault above me. I knelt down in prayer, mine eyes filling with tears more and more, until I sobbed like a child. And now the majestic Sun himself issued, like a revelation, from behind a cloud, and filled my wounded bosom with a vigor I never had felt be- GATHERED BY THE WAY. 37 fore. I raised my head: "A ship! a ship!" With full proud sails, driven by a brisk breeze, she ap- proaches the cliff. There is still a God on High, who sees my suffexings, and will end them. Oh Lord of Love, Thou punishest with leniency ! Thou rememberst Thine unfortunate son! Thou knowst his contrition! It has hardly begun, and Thou, in Thy great mercy, terminatest his misery ! Oh, God, Thou openst my grave, and leadst me back among the living, that I may love them, and may press them bosom to bosom ! I went uj) to tlie pinnacle of the rock, to see the ship more disitinctly. My blood rushed to the heart, and, with increasing size of the vessel, my throbs grew more violent. I tried to be noticed by her crew's glasses, directed towards the island. But alas! I had no cloth with which to make a flag, no means to kindle a fire and produce smoke, and with my bare anns alone I signaled. Thou alone, oh Lord, Thou knowst my plight! I saw the space steadily diminish between the sails and me, and hark! Does my ear deceive me? A shrill whistle coming over the water! It was the master's pipe, that blew; to me it sounded like the trumpet of Eesurrection. With what jubilation did my thirs- ty ear imbibe it! But how wilt thou, human speech, knock at this aged heart — ^the A^oice I have not heard so many years? Lo, they set sail to alter their course! Oh, Lord, in whom I trusted! How, southward? Yes; they steer around to avoid the breakers. Glide safely, thou Ship of Promise! Now it is time! Look here! Oh, look here! Lower the anchor there! Stop below the wind! SloAvly a.nd quietly sihe pursues her way, moves on- ward. She knows notliing of my pain. So I saw 38 GATHERED BY THE WAY. lier go south witli swelling sails over the swelling Ocean, and the room between mj'self and her in- creiase, and, when she had disaippeared before mine eager eyes, and I vainly tried to find a trace of her aboA'e the rolling sea, I realized that I was de- ceived. Oh, then, my Avrath knew no bounds. I became frantic, cursed God, and smote my head against the rock. Three days and nights I lay thus, in despah', as one whose sense is dulled by in- sanity, and tore the flesh fi*om my body with my fiugernails, until I could find teai's to alleviate my raving anger, and was able to arouse mj'self, driven by omnipotent waait of Nature to provide nourish- ment for mine exhausted bodj'. Slate tlie Third. Patience, patience, patience! This is mine only theme no'\^^ There, in the East, the early Sun arises in all his pomp; and there, in the West, again he sinks behind the curtain of a cloud. A day is gone! Now, I see the shadow of my body falling straight south. A year has passed! An- other jear! Thus, one after another, they move on incessantly, but when fifty sank into the lap of Eternity, I ceased to scratch a cross upon the stone. Patience! I stand on tlie shonv, and mine eyes rove over the level, and mine ear hears the waves' eter- nal voice. Patience, patience! Let Sun and Moon and Stars encircle thee in their harmonious rounds. Let balmy breezes of Night make room to glowing Day; the Summer's heats to Winter's rains. En- dure in silence! How easy it is to bear the scorn of the elements if one is awake, and courage fills one's bosom. But nights! Yea! at night, when dreams us sleepless render, and those frightful Be- GATHERED BY THE WAY. 39 ings, shadoAVS of the past, their terrible appear- ance make, and talk to us in terms which make us shudder. AAva y, away ! Who gave ye this power, awful memoi'ies of my youth, to frighten me? "What tossest thou thy locks so Avildly? I knew thee well, rash boy! I look at thee, and all my pulises stop. Thou art myself, as once I used to be — striving, planning. I am thyself, the pale image on thy grave. What sayst thou? Beauty? Good- ness? Truth? Love and Hate? Thirst for ac- tion? Thou fool! See here, what all the dreams of yore are! This thou art now. And still thou dovst persist in showing them to me, in all their ra diance ? Let me alone, oh, woman ; I know thee not! 1 have resigned since long. Wilt tliou arouse my passions out of their ashes? Wilt thou set a volcano, now so long extinct, anew in flames? Oh, do not speak to me in these soft words! Oh, do not look at me so tenderly! The light of thy blue eyes death has long extinguished; the sound of thy sweet voice made dumb forever. Out of tlie sockets of thy decayed skull no fire, no heaven of love, can issue. Dead is the world in which I tiusted! I have outlived it on this bare rock — in utler isolation overcome the all-conquei-ing time. ^Vhy, ye pictures of life, do ye press me thus, who now belongs to the dead? Avaunt! Go back into the Inane! Be quiet, my heait; lo, the day is com- ing! Arise, oh, thou majestic shield of fire whose rays alone the phantoms banish which haunt my nights, when sleep does leave tliese tired eyelids. Oh, terminate the struggle which disturbs my soul and annihilates my body ! See, here he is, and they are gone! I am again myself, and keep ye here closeted in my silent bosom. Oh, dot], how feeble 40 GATHERED UY THE WAY. I am! Carry nij- body, ye trembling feet, now for the last time, to Avliere the birds are nesting. There I shall lie down for an eternal rest. Should ye resist, I here Avould starve. God be praised! My soul's wild storms have ceased, and long ago 1 have made a vow that I shall die on yonder s^Mit, where 1 can breathe the sea-air. I implore Thee, great Lonl, let no one come near this i>lace, no ship ap- proach this isolated rock, till 1 am gone, till all this woe is ended! Oh let me, w'ithont a sigh, ex- pire here! What should I, w^ho is nearly dead, be- gin among the living at this late hour? Shall 1 wander, a corpse, among the quick? They sleep long under the turf w^ho greeted mine arrival on this earth. I am a long-forgotten theme, — ^a song past memory. I have suffered, Thou great Oreator. 1 have confessed my sins before Thee. I have atoned for them, and I am reconciled with death. Shall I enter mine old home as a stranger? What bitterness can be made sweet by wormw^ood? Oh, God, let me die here forgotten, and end my mis- ei*,y, where Thy redeeming Cross looks dowm on my decaying bones ! IIABBI JOSEPH HALEYY. At the time wdien King Nebuchadnezzar had taken Jerusalem, and led her inhabitants captive to Babylonia, there lived, among the Jews newly settled in the capital of his great empire, one of the most learned and pious of their tribe, a venerable teacher of the Torah, amd scribe, by name Joseph Halevy. The Kabbi sat one evening, after supper, in his easy-chair by the table of his dining-room, and read in a gold-ornamented book lying on it, while GATHERED BY THE WAY. 41 his wife, the gra^'-haired but thrifty Sarah, busied herself in the adjoining kitchen. The volume con- tained, among other mattei's, extracts from the I'entateuch, and, when the old man arrived at the place, "And the Lord spake to Moses, there shall no more arise a prophet who like to thee has seen God, thy Lord, face to face," he folded his hands in prayer, and said : "If I have found favor in Thine eyes. Thou Father of Israel, ais Thou so often hast shown Thy servant, let me behold Thee ere I die." Hardly had he uttered these words, Avhen a dim shadow fell on the page of his book, and raising his liead, he saw the Angel of Death standing before liim, with a bare sword in his hand. Halevy was a man who implicitly trusted in the Lord, but when he beheld the awful apparition, a fever ran through his veins, and, with a tremulous voice, he asked, "What dost Thou want here?" Dereupon said the messenger of God: "Lo, the time has come when thou art to die, but, before thou enterst the company of ithe departed, any of the wishes thou uttei"S(t shall be granted thee. Thus, the Lord on High, in His great mercy, has (ordained it, and sent me hither to be thy guide." ■"If this be true, Thou esalted spirit," the Kabbi answered, "I wish to see the Paradise first," and, when the Angel 'spoke, "So let us start," he laid his book aside, and prepared for the trip, but, as they had left the hall together, he added, "And in order that Thou be not tempted to attack me on the road, and rob me of my soul, pray, let me carrj^ thy Bword." The Son of Heaven smiled and delivered the weapon to the aged man, and thus they reaiched Eden. There the Angel lifted the Eabbi upon the wall 4-2 GATHERKD BY THE WAY. encircling the holy place, that lie might recognize with his feeble eyes what was going on inside; but Halevy hardly felt the stone under his feet when, with a tremendous leap, he stood, sword in lumd, among the blessed, leaving the messenger of the Lord before the gate; and thus it happened, for the first time in their experience, that the breath of death swept through the dwelling of the immortals, and tliey greatly wondei'ed at it. The Angel, outside the A^^all, mow cried, "Why dost thou not come back, Kabbi Joseph?" but the latter minded little the words of the Spirit and re- plied, "As God, Zeboath, liveth, this place I shall (luit no more." All the s«-A'ants of Jehovah tlien cried: "See, oh Lord, Avhat mischief this son of clay has done. He smuggled himself into our siinctiiary and refuses to leave us again." The Lord hereupon said: "Do' ye not know ^ly son, IJabbi Joseph Halevy, who has found favor before Me, because he never swears false? Ye must not be angry with him, Mj- dear children, but let him do what he deems just, because, even to-day, he shall see My whole glory with his own mortal eyes." When the Angles were told this^ they bowed before God's will, and were silent. But Azrael, the mes- senger, still standing before the wall, had also heard the words Jehovah had spoken, and he ejac- ulated : "Kow, then, Babbi Joseph, at least give me back the swoi'd, tliait I may eonitinue my eniands." Halevy, hoAvever, laughed and said: "This sabre is mine, Thou terrible One, Thou hasit done mist-hief enough with it among mankind, since the world is created." Hardly had he spoken this when a voice arose, which sounded like thunderstonn, trumpet's blast, and the rolling of the sea com- GATHKREI) BY THI! WAY. 43 biued, and he could distiuguisli: "Give back the sword, son of a mortal." Kabbi Joseph Halevy, the Babylonian, bent down in obedience, and prayed long and fervently. Then, rising again, he went to the gate and sadd to Aznael-: "Then swear, that thou never again wilt approach the children of Adam with this bare weapon, but keep it hidden, whenever thou art to carry a soul away." The Angel received tJie sword, raised his hand and SAvore: "As Jebovah liveth, I shall show^ this" — Just at this moment the kitchen door opened and Sara.h, entering, cried: "But, dear papa, why dost thou not rather go to bed, instead of snoring here in thy chair?" The old man awoke and found that he had dreamt the moiSt singular dream of his life. FEANCESCO FKA]^CTA. An Art Legend. Ye have, kind friends, imdoubtedly seen, some- where, one of the copies of that wonderful painting, the Madonna of Raphael. The original stands in the picture gallery at Di*esden, Saxony. The eyes which beheld it may consider themselves especially blessed by Providence, because, as the Jupiter Kronos of Phidias, the Athenian, cannot be forgot- ten, so will this piece of art not, shoiild it ever be destroyed. We stiood, w'hen in Dresden, befoire it, not minding anything around us, until the custo- dian of the museum rang the bell, to maJce us leave the palace of art. This picture has a story at- tached to it as remarkable as the piece itself, and here it is : At the time when the popes built the magnificent 44 GATHERED BY THH WAV. structure known as the Dome of St. Peter, and those fa-inous men and blossomvs of all artists, Raphael Sanzio de Urbino and Michael Angelo Buonarotti, Avere working at it, there lived at Pia- cenza, a city on the rivei* Po, full of boaiiteoas tem- ples, public buildings, marble-works, etc., an old, well-known painter, bj' name of Francesco Francia. He had heaixl of that remaa-kable young Urbinian, had addressed him in letters, and had received in answer many tokens of friendship from this most amiable of all children of Adam. Raphael was sought for by many gi«eat men, esijecially digiiita- ries of the church, and was always crowded with orders; and, as lie never painted fast, but took care to produce something which should siatisfy the most fastidious taste, he had not a moment to spare for private affairs. He had been intrusted with the making of a picituiie foi' the alt:i.v in the chapel of San Sisto at Piacenza, had finished the same, and wrote to his older friend, Francia, the follow- ing lines: "I have always been desirous to have thee examine one or the other of my products, but it is only now tliat I find an opportimity for it. I should have preferred to come in person to see thee, but am busy here with working at the frescoes in the dwelling of His Holiness, which have to be ready at a certain time; and I, therefore, cannot af- ford to be absent so long. I have completed the picture that is ta hamg in the new tabernacle of thy city, of which I wiiote thee before, and I shipped it to-day to thine addi-'es.s. Pray, dear father and friend, take it hoone when it aiinves ; open the box most caTefuUy; exaonine it; see whether this deli- cate piece has suffered any injury while on the way, whether the canvas has a rent, and, if so, restore it; GATHERED BY THE WAY. 45 iind, when using thy brush, please improve with loving hand where thou deemst me deficient in mine art; and then hang it up wliere it will receive the best light. For all this kindness accept my most sincere expression of gratitude in advance. "Thine forever, EAPHAEL." The old master, having come into possession of the box, opens it, takes out the picture, brings it to light, loots, and dares not trust his ov^'n eyes. He stands there, overwhelmed with giief, and en- chanted at the sajnetime, tears iimning down from his moist eyes over his cheeks. "Realized!" he exclaimjs, "are now my dreams. I am annihilated! I am blessed! Be praised, gi'eat Lord, who re- vealedst such miracle of art yet during my lifetime. And now, after I have been permitted by Thee to see it, let me expire in peace." His by-standing pupils heard him say these words. They were the last his lips ever uttered. He gave no more answers to their questions. Francesco Francia fell down, and was dead. THE GOOSE DEAL. Yohahn Madaus was the owner of a patch of ground, with a little dwelling on it, not far from llostock, in the Duchy of Mecklenburg, Germany, which property he had inhei'ited from his parents. The city lies on the shore of the Baltic, and is the most importaut of this province of the Empire, and especially famous for its university and the fine sii;eers it raises, thus producing wise and foolish cattle, and making good the French proverb : "Du sublime au ridicule il n'y a qu'un pas." 46 GATHERED BY THE WAV. But U) return to our new acquainlame. Jle lived with his wife on this garden plot. They were both hardworking, economical people, Avho, by their thrift, had accumulated some wealth, but, alas, had no supertiuity of intelligence; nay, they even were suspected of OA\iiing the largest potatoes in the count}-, (for, as they say in Gei-many, big potatoes and fools are friends) and, though it must be admitted that jealousy somewhat influenced the judgments of Neighbors Jochen, Jurgen, and othei's, it -nais an iindeniable fact that Monsieur Madaus and his "better seren-eighths" (as she was called on account of her pi'edominance in all eases where the couple's mutual affairs were concerned) were below the average of Mecklenburgian wis- dom. It happened that, at the beginning of spring, as usual at this period of the year, one of their cows was with a ealf, and, when the young female citi- zen of the animal Republic liad made her appear- ance, the important question arose whether the new comer should be brought up as an additioinal milk-cow or not. 'TTea," said Madame Madaus, "it is a pity to see such a sweet little creature butch- ered. She is so beautiful, has such a fine white star on her forehead; but we own three cows already, and what should we do with so many? Yoxi had better sell the ealf, and put the few Sil- berthalers by for a rainy day." Now, as the opin- ions of Frau Madaus were always as decisive a® those of the oracle of a Delphic priestess Avho sat on a tripod (probably, because the lady sat on a three-legged wooden stool her patient husband had made for her), our good peasant led the young ani- GATHERED BY THE WAY. 47 mal, ou one of the uext weekly market days, to thef city of Rostock. The main street of this quaint, old town runs parallel with the shore, and extends over an Eng- lish mile from its eastern to its western terminus, opening into a public square, and when our friend, Madaus, had entered the eastern gate, holding the small beast by a rope, and sometimes pulling it by its rear appendage to assist in its locomotion, there stood, talking together, a group of ten to twelve persons, their heads covered with a tiny embroid- ered cap, called, in the student's language, "Cere- vis" (on accouuft of its being donned by this species of humanity, when indulging in their glass of Ba- ■varian in the tavern). They were, in fact, visitors of the Alma-mater, playing truant, in order to see what was going on in town. It is a well knoAvn fact that these mortals have in their heads little nooks, wherein a lot of an G-mbryonic, airy ai'ticle, called "fun," is crammed, which, ait any moment an opportunity offers, jumps into existence; and thus, when the foremost of these youngsters (he stood on long legs, had an eagle-nose and black, lustrous eyes, betraying the rogue a mile and a half distant) saw our man from the country enter the Porta Rostockiana (probably thus named because the rustics bring their wares to market through it), leading the future victim of the butcher by the rope, he said to his companions : "Now, put yourselves, one after anothei', in dis- tances of about forty rods, more or less, towards the Steinthor, and the rest of you near the stalls on the cattle market, and follow exactly my directions." And hereby he whispered siomiething into eaich 48 GATHERED HV THE WAY. one's ear, which seemed to amuse them hugely, and they dispersed. When our friend Madaus had arrived at tJie point where the tall youth stood, this auspicioais son of the Muses said to him: "Good mornin', old one. How d'ye do?" Then he added, without waiting for an answer: "Will ye sell yer goose?" "What! A goose?" exclaimed our peasant. "Oan he not see? That 's no goose; it is a calf, as I think." And, without taking any further notice of the inquirer, he proceeded on his errand to the market place. He had not gone very far, how- ever, when another such beer-capped fellow, linger- ing in the street, accosted him: "Hello, old chap, what d'ye want for yer goose?" "What! Also a gookse? Shall I unbutton his eyes? That's a calf, as 1 mean; has four 'legs, a tail in tine rear, and, when it opens its snout, it bleats." The old man now went straight ahead, but he became somewhat doubtful as to the real nature of his calf, by what he had just heard; and so he looked back over hia shoulder to examine it a little more carefully. "Yes," said he, "that is, indeed, a calf. What, in th e devil, ails these fellers ? Are they blind ?" But, whiile yet soliloquizing, he sees a person approach, who yells, "Whaft's the price of yer goose, old man?" "Gracious," said our rustic, "hei'e on the street, and there by the gate, they have called this a goose. Oan't he see, Gelbschnaibel? That's a calf, that's no goose!" But now he felt really res- tive, took a few steps backward, scratched himself behind the ear, and looked at the animal. "Yes," said he, "that's a calf! A goose has feathei*s and two legs. These cusses are off their base." And hereby he pointed to his forehead. "Who, in God's GATHERED BV THE WAY. 49 world, hiais ever heard tliat a goose is led by a rope? That is a little too " A few minutes later, however, when he had just arrived at the stalls, there loitered several persons who, all at the same time, cried: "Now, old friend, wilt thou sell thy goose? We wall give thee sixtine Groschens for it." "Himmel-Donnerwetter!" cried Madaus, "That's too stark! In all my lifetime I have not heard its like. Am I bewitched? It was a calf, and is now a goose. It is a goose, and Avas a calf. It was a calf only this moa'gen. Down with yer sixtine Groschens! It is a bargain! If it has changed into a goose, let it go as such !" THE STUDENT'S ALTEE-EGO.* Two rows of fine, substantial brickhouses, with their gables to the front of the street, extending something like three miles in a continuous line, and looking doVn from the ridge of the hill upon the valley, wherein the river Neckar shines, as a silver- ribbon does on green velvet; on top of the eleva- tion, forming its crown, the old beautiful castle of red. stone, environed by a magnificent scenery, and built, as it is claimed, bj' Michael Angelo, the great Italian thinker, poet, painter, sculptor, architect and what not? — ^that is Heidelberg. Oh, thou beloved city lOf my younger days! How do I long to embrace thee with mine eyes' wonder- ing circle, and pace over thy clean-swept side- walks, white as marble! Still, after the lapse of thirty years, thy venerable form hovers around me, when I remember how I, a modest student, the cerevis aslant on my head, sauntered to the Alma- * This story was told by my teacher, Professor T 50 GATHERIil) liY THK WAY. mater and listened to the lore of thy sage profes- S01"S. I was then living in one of the littJe cottages that stand in the reai- of the hill, not far from the place of learning. A small porch was before the house, where I used to rest in a hammock, when the day star had just hidden behind the mountains, and the blue, ti'an.s])arent sky, dressied in i\i\ its Soutihern beauty, commenced to assume those grayish tints that predict the night. The last rays of the sun struck the window-panes in the distance, and made them appear like a sea of glory, blinding the eyes; until a dark cloud arose in the West and formed a curtain for the waning crimson-beams, which sent their last farewell to earth. Quiet reigned around the scene at this time, in- terrupted only by the tinlvling of the bell of a cow returning from pasture, a monotonous song in the quagmire, and, here and there, a shrill chirp of the cricket. 1 rocked myself leisurely, looked up into the dian.ond eyes of heaven, which shone down on me, thrilling my heart with their mysterious mean- ing, and meditated over things past, present and jet to be. Some mouths after my matriculation I had been made a member of one of those unions called "Bui'schenschaften," of whom Goethe says "that they kill their time with little wit and lots of fun." We were to have a meeting one evening, and, when I had spent, as usual, an hour in idle reveries and selfr.d mi ration, a colleague of miue arrived, and asked jne to come along, as there would be great hilarity in the "Kneipe." I took my long pipe, donned my beer-cap, and we arrived just in time to join the so-called "Kommers." We became bois- GATHERED BY THE WAY.' 51 terously merry, after having imbibed our fifth or sixth glass, sang several choruses (among others, a Scotchman gave us the well-known song of Bums, in a German version, "Oh, Willie brewed a peck o' maut," which made the company loar witih laugh- ter and the rafters of the house shake), told all kinds of yarns, drank a Vivat to Bismarck, Pereats to Napoleon and the Pope, and it was after mid night ^.hen Ave parted. As far as I now can rememiber, I was sober when I %vended my way homeward, through the man- ubandoned streets. I felt, however, some kind of a disgust for A\-hat we had done in the meeting; for I was a freshman, and unused to such noisy revels. This feeling is called in the students' language "Bin Katzeujammer," for whit^h they prescribe herring with onions in vinegar as a sure remedy. My conscience felt uneaisy, and I had the sensation of being thrown headlong from the blessed heights of Paradise into the eighth bolge of Dante's In- f..'rno. The marketplace I had to pass to reach my home was still and lonely. The bright mo'on threw aer argentine rays from the bluish vault above down upon the ])avo]n('nt, here and there a dark cloud passing ovei' her, thait maile the shadows it pro- duced appear like ghosts wandering through night. It was so intensely quiet around me that I could hear my own steps re-echo in the distance. When 1 had a])proached my dwelling, I was sur- prised tc- find the front room, wherein I generally studied, shedding a light through the shuttea\s. I thought my landlord had forgotten the time and was reading, as he siometimes had done during my absence. I ope)ied the main-entrance,.stepped into GATHKRKU HY THE WAY. the hall, liiiiied the key of the chamberdoor, and stood petiilied. At my desk sat my identical second self before my hoiTor-stricken eyes! We hioked at each other for a while speechless, I unable to racA'e from the spot. IIo-w long this lasted, 1 do not know; it seemed to me an eteraity. My liair stood up. my heart beat audibly and heavy di'ops rolled from my forehead. Finally, however, I r(v.:overed from my shock and found the courage to say: "Who are you, spook?" I saw him groi^- paler, as though he had also experienced a fright- ening sensation, at hearing me speak; and he said in my own voice, which thrilled my heart to its deepest recesses: "Who art Thou, that darest to come hither in this late hour?" And again w-e stared at each other, for a long while, and neither of us uttered a syllable. At last I collected my trembled S])ints, and cried: "You erring phantom, leave the Jiouse and do not rise against him to whom ttis place rightly belongs." The one before me then replied: "Thou claimst to be the owner of this roKun, and so do I; but I shall not leave it until thou givest ample proof of thine identity, be- cause I am the person w4io, until now% has occupied it, and not thou, ais I soom w^ill be lable to sliow." There y\'{i& another pause of long duration, in which Avc; gazed at each other. Then he said, with a scrutinizing glance: "Here naught else can be done than to disclose our spiritual nature, since thou and myself look so much like twins. Starte what kind of a man thou art, and this I sihall do also." Hereupon I began as follow^s: "I am one who always strove for the Good, the True and the Beau- tiful. Avho never sacrificed his convictions to the Golden Calf, the Idol of the w^orld; and, thoiigh GATHERED BY THE WAY. 53 sometimes taking smoke for fire, never relinquished Justice, but persisted in fighting for her. So am I, and now what are you?" And with an expres- sion on liis countenance, that changed from deep anguish to malice as he proceeded, he answered: "As thou deisicribest thyself, alas, I am not. I am a coward, a liar, a scoundrel, a hypocrite before God and men. Deceit and egotism fill my bosom, and dissim-ulation is on my face. I see, thou art a noble knight, lenient towairds others, but misunder- stood, cheated, aaid wi^'ongedbyan ungrateful world. And now thou mayst siay: Who knows himself better, thou or I? And who depicted his character more correctly, thou or I? And who is the one wlio henceforth shall occupy this desk, thou or I? Dare thou now to step forward and claim this seat. If thou dost, thiou wilt siee me vaniisli into naaight." When I had heard these cruel words, my poor soul was wrung to self-knowledge, and I cried out: "Stay, oh Spirit ! Thou taughtist me to look into my heart as upon a looking-glass," and out I went again,^and poiured my tears into the night. A SMAET CLIENT. Before the amalgamation of the kingdoms, duch- ies, and petty sovereignties of the Fatherland into one compact body, under King William of Prussia, there was left, from the period when the feudal sys- tem had reigned supreme, many an institution that resembled somewhat the jusprimae noctis, so nice- ly depicted by Beaumarchais in Mozart's "Figaro's Marriage." One of the grossest nuisances was the great number of law concerns in some of these little states, especially in Hamburg. The holders of 54 GATHERED BY THE WAY. these offices were entitled to charge for their ser- vices anything: they saw fit ; and thus justice could be only obtained by the Avealthy, and the fee of the lawyer often by far exceeded the object at dispute. The folloAving anecdote speaks foi' itself: One day a worthy of the legal profession was sitting behind his desk, when a heavily built individual entered the room, and, after due salutation, said: "1 have come, your woi-ship, to see you about some important matter. When I passed the street yes- terday, some crazy thing of a dog tried to bite me in the calves, but only succeeded in tearing a hole in my pants, and so I wish to ask yon whether I could recover their value." "Certainly," exclaimed the lawyer, "you can. The man who allows such a pernic'ious animal to run at large is under obliga- tion to make good any damage said creature causes." "Should I be entitled to five Thalers?" asked Mister Dough, a baker by trade. "I am sure of it," said the Corpus Juris. "This is a new pair of pantaloon®, and it would take nearly as much to tolerably restore them." "Now, then, your wor- ship, please open your port-monnaie, and pay me the five Silberthalers, because it was your own Polio that bit me in the trousers." "My Polio?" cried the man of law, "my own dog? I never knew him to be of such a vicious disposition. However, since you say it was he, here is the money." "Justice must on Earth be done As long there's shining moon and sun." Master Dough smiled maliciously, and was just preparing to scrape together the five pieces the lawyer had laid on the table when a loud "Hold on!" issuing from the mouth of the Quo Wari-anto, interrupted him in this ])leasant occupation. "I GATHEKED BY THE WAY. .55 cannot witlihold from you tlie fact," said he, "that for the legal advice I have given you in the named miatter, you are indebted to me for the trifling amiount of five Thalers and a half. Now, pray, add half a Thaler to the five pieces lying on the desk, and then we will call it square." "Justliae must om Earth be done As long there's shining moon and sun." THE PEISIITENT. Not yet had the Rabbi commenced to teach, for it was early in the morning, and the young star of the day just rose in the East, and threw his first timid rays into Nature's temple. The creatures of Earth liad languished for his tender kisses, and shed, at hjisisighft, tears of joy, that glistened on the grass-blades and in the cups of the flowers covering hills and valleys in profusion. The pupils were sitting around a long table in the vestry of the syn- agogue, upon which lay the Sacred Book. The young men conversed in a lively manner; the ob- ject of their conversation being a curious occur- rence at the plaice of worship, at the time the last Sabbath was inaiugurated. It is a well-known and laudable custom among the pious liussian Hebrews that, when a member of one family dies, the bereaved one takes a seat in the rear pew, especially provided for this pur- pose, and is spoken to by the Rabbi or principal of his congregation, with consoling words; and, after the night's service is over, he steps to the front, and implores the Lord to bestow His mercy upon the sou] of the dei)arted. The past Friday, a pale, gray-haired stranger had 56 GATHERED BY THE WAY. at first not only occupied the mourners' seat, but aftorwartls left it, and thrown himself down on the tliresholfl, when the crowd arrived, as though in- viting the comers to trample upon him. No one, of course, did it, but the people were anxious to find out what the cause of this man's singular be- havior was; especialh-' so, as the object of their curiosity Avas fairly dressed, and spoke the German tojigue. While the disciples were still conversing, the foreigner himself entered the room, and took his seat near the door, as if afraid to disturb the young people's study. His coming at once checked the lively talk of the assembled, and it was as if an early frost had made its appearance on the vege- tation on a May morning; so sitrangely contrasted his aged head and wrinkled face with the rosy com- plexions of all thiose in theliaill. After a while the Itabbi arrived, and, upon see- ing tlie guesit, addressed liim as followw: "Sjjeak, my friend, what made thee lie down on the thresh- old of the Temple Friday night, to have us tread upon thee? These young men might look at thine act ais that of one insaine, if thou wilt mot propei'ly explain it." Hereupon the old man beg'an in a grave voice: 1 am a penitent, who has been oirdea'ed to confess his sins before the members of each congregation among whom I spend the Sabbath. Do not ask for my name; it rests with my beloved wife and child. I was a rich merchant, honored by Jew and Gen- tile. I was, so to say, in the zenith of my happi- ness and pride. My congregation showed me its esteem by intrusting me with the division of its contributions tow'ards the poor. Once, on a hot GATHERED BY THE WAY. ^"^ summer day, there came to me a pale-lookmg, des- titute woman. She begged me to assist her m her distress. I wanted to know her name and resi- dence; but she, being ill and hungry, cursed me I crew excited, and, in. mine anger, was ca-uel enongh to strike her face. She fell on a stone lying in my yard. I saw her bleed, saw her features chanoe, and expire before my horrified eyes. I was thunderstrnck, but had to fear no prosecution as her behavior had been witnessed. My congregation .howed me its sympathy, and let the matter rest; but the liigher Judge, in my breast, cried for re- venge, and I conld not sleep. I therefore went to the most renowned divine of our province, and aslved for his advice. With prayings, washings, and fastings, he ordered me to reconcile my wounded conscience; but the heaviest burden he laid upon me was. that I should wander to-i- fiiil seven years through the land, leaving my wife, child, and wealth behind me, and beg, from door to door, as my poor victim had done, for a piece of bread, and let nobody know who I am. Six years, oh, Eabbi, have I borne this heavy lot, and so much am T nearer to the grave. Do not ask me what i suffered; it is written in my heart. But the most unspeakable of my sorrows thon shalt hear yet. Once I came to the place where I had lived. In mv foreign garb, nobody knew me; but I recog- nized all. I stepped through the open gate upon the little patch of a garden in front of my home, which latter the Rabbi had forbidden me to enter. There stood a young maiden whom I did not know at first, but soon found her, by her features, simi- lar to those of my wife, to be my own daughter Rebecca, now seven years old. She asked what I 58 GATHERED BY THE WAY. wished, upon seeing me. "I am a penitent," I re- plied. "Go, my dear, and tell thy mamma I Avant a gift." The girl went in, and soon returned, the mother following, but hiding behind the door. She gave me a small coin. "Is this all thy mamma has for a penitent?" I said. The child ran back, but soon came again, and spoke, blushingly: "My father is himself a penitent, my mother says. She lias lost all her ppoipea"ty, excei>t this huu,se. If he were here, thou wouldst receive tenfold.'' Imagine my feelings, dear Itabbi ! I was dumbfounded, but suppressed my emotion, turned my back on my be- loved family and on my home, and continued to Avander — a beggar — through the land. This is my sorrowful storj', and thou wilt now be able to ex- plain to the inquisitive why I did what appeai*ed to them so singrular. THE LAST WILL OF GUISEPPE BARTHOLO. In the days when that horrible diseaise known by the name of the "Bla.ck Death" raged through Euaiope, and hovered over the deuise population of her large cities, killing men by the thousanids on a single day, there lived at Florence — that pride of the Middle Ages, the city full of miracles of Gre- cian, Eoman, and Italian art, the home of philoso- phers, sculptors, painters, bards and many other geniuses — the poet Boccaiccio. It is a well-known fact that the Sons of Apollo, while unblessed by worldly goods, are in posses- sion of one unrivaled treasure, called "Fancy," that beautifies their simple homes, and environs their lives with a wreath of thought-blossoms; and even amidsit the suffenings of waii", the ravages of epi- GATHERED BY THE WAY. 59 demios, and oitiher trials of human existence, She, the miraculous Fairy, approaches them, consoles their lone heai-ts, and makes them forget all the horroirs filling the world around them. The life ot our poet was probably no exception to that of others of his class, because, amidst all the direful occurrences of that period, the Goddess of his sioul opened her horn of gifts, and showered up- on him those magnificent stories called "The Decameron." The scene of these tales is the en- chanting valley of the river Arno, where Floirence lies like ai child in its mother's laip. We a]] know that these famous stories have been used as subjects for dramais and operas by the great poets and composers of former centuries; and, as late ais at the end of the last, the German author Lesising -RTote a drama, named "Nathan der Weise," which hinges on one of the finest of this Italian's stories. The curious incident narrated in the following lines took place at the time our poet lived at Flor- ence, and deserves to be kept green in the memory of man. It may cause you toi smile, but it has also a serious side, and makes the impression of a many- colored butterfly painted on a dark ground. Until the middle of the laist century there was placed, on a public square of the famous city spoken of, a basketful of figs, there to remain until eaten by flies. It will surely interest you to hear how this custon originated. At the time mention- ed, and when the epidemic had assumed its worst character, so that even animals fell victims to it, there lived at Florence a wealthy tradesman by name of Guiseppe Bartholo. He was left a wid- ower early in life, with sevea-al children. Upon 60 GATHERED HV THE WAV. these and other relatives living with him he lav- ished Ms nnoney, in order to rear them in. an aristo- cratic style; but, though well acquainted with the wajis of the world, he hardly expected what he was to experience during the most grievous trial of his life. The disease was, as we know, very contagious, and the people fled from the city in great numbers, leaving tlie dead unburied and the sick to their fatie. Our tradesma.n became also a victim of the dreaded sickness; but hardly had he taken ill, when every member of his household, for whom he had done so much, went off, and he was a.t the mercy of strangieris, and exposed to the damger of being robbed by the thieves who at this period, to increaise the misfortune of the inhabitauts, also in- fested the beautiful town. He was thus found by a Franciscan in his palace, who took care of him ; but soon he felt death approach, and urged the friar to find for him' a' lawyer who should wa-ite his WiUl. Onie of the poorer members of the profession, at- tracted by the heavy reward offered, consented to come. He presented himself in the room of the sick mian, and sat down to work. The merchant, being propped up on this pillows by the monk, dic- tated somiethiing like the following: "I, Guiseppe Bairtholo, hereby bequeath to my children, Eomeo, Giovanna, Julia, and Beatrice, all my real estate in Florence; all my movables, consisting of silks, silver plate, oil paintings, laces, as invoiced in the hereto-attached schedule; all my money in banks: all my stocks, bonds, and coins, contained in my strong-box; all my household goods, useful and or- namental, — ^to be equally divided among them GATHERED BY THE WAY. 6J after my demise." "Have you written what I baive said?" asked the paitient. The man of law nodded. "Now, then, add what follows: It shall, however, be incumbent on my heirs, for all time to come, to expose ainnually, at the date of my death,— under penalty of foi-feiting their respective shares to the poor of this city,— a measure full of tigs, on la public place of Florence, as a meal for the flies." Here the lawyer stopped short, looked up at the testator, and said: "My deair SeigTiior, I know you are a good Chrisitian, and think you are not going to joke in presence of that awful a,bysis which opens before your eyes. You will soou stand before your Eter- nal -Judge; therefore, do^ not jest, but rather be pre- paT'ed for the aAvful trial." Hereupon Guieseppe replied in a grave a,nd firm ^oice: "Do you not see that my nearest relative's have mercilessly deiserted me, and the sole beings that remained with me while I am dying are the flies? Pray, wnite whiat I have isaid, and I shall sign the paper while life is still in me. It may serve asi a; punishment for my children, attached to my gifts, and ais a lesson for those who save too much during their life-time, for the benefit of un- grateful heirs, as I foolishly have done." The will was finished as ordered, and Bariholo died with a smile on his lips. THE CRUCIFIX.* AN artist's legend. The quaint old town of Nuernberg, on the river Pegnitz, is environed by the Franconian hills, and now owned by Bavaria. She was always famous. • This tale was given us by an aged English printer, by name of Sala. (52 GATHERED BY THE WAY. especially in the Middle Ages, for ber wealth, com- merce, political influence, as a center of art and science and as a fortress of Ppotestantlsm in the Fatherland. The history of this city reads like a romance. She originally belonged to the ances- toTS of the present emperor of Germany, until one of the Kaisers of the Hapsburg-Dynasty, as usual, in financial straits, accepted her and thirty thou- sand ducats, from Burggraf Frederick IV, of Ho- henzoJlern (wbose castle can still be sieen on a hill near by), as a consideration for tbe Duchy of Bran- denburg (by Mm and his contempopairies, on ac- count of her siandy soil, nicknamed the "Holy Ko- naan Empire's Pounce-Box") ; and .she thus became the indirect oanse of this apparently worthless land's being the corner stone of the now so power- ful and magnificent Grerman Confederation. The city has been the stoene of great war«, but the most remarkable meeting of armies took place there in tbe thii'ty years' struggle for religious lib- erty, when that big braggart, Field Marshal ^Val- lenstein (who swore he would seize Stralsund, and were she chained to Heaven with iron, but did not succeed in 'this attempt), had palisadoed his le- gions nearby in the strongest manner po'ssible, and stood therei for months, face to face with brave, but cautious Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden, (shortly before this great champion of the Keformation fell — a victor — -at Lutzen) without risking a battle, until many thousand soldiers had perished. The manufacture of toys is the main source of Nuernberg's wealth, but she produces also many other useful articles which are, and were as long as men can remember, exponted all over the globe. She was the leading member of that league called GATHERED BY THE WAY. 63 "Hanseatic," ait the time it floupished, the object of which was to protect the citizens against the en- croachments of the bai^ons, then moire powerful than the Kaiser Mmtsielf. Her merchants lived like kings and boasted of being more independent than princes. The fa,moiuis city hall, a wonderful structure, two hundred a.nd seventy-live feet long, full of curiosities; the gallery, wdth its sculptural work and paintings; the German National Mu- seum ; and other institutions full of art treasures, — ■ give ample evidence of what the skill and wealth of true citizens can produce. But the city O'btained her highest — naj', her im- mortal — renorsvu tiirough her great geniuses. There lived, in the fifteenth century, the most cel- ebrated of German painters, Albrecht Durer, Avhom we are inclined to call the Raphael of the Fatherlanid, though he may not equal the Italian in portraying the simple beaiiity of the female form. Then, you may have /heard of Hans Sachs, the cob- bler poet and mastersinger, w^bose dwelling still ex- ists. It is now" a public house, Avhere the swarthy but less S'Oing-imspired gentleman me'chanic im- bibes his cup of the favorite Bavarian, after sup- per. And another, not iSO often named, but nO' less great la figure, is Martin Beihaim, navigator and as- tronomer, a friend of Ohrisitopher Columbus. You can still find this man's giant-globe of the earth in the Ra^thhauis at Nueimberg. There are four houses of worship, masterpieces of Gothic architecture, in Nuernberg, — 'the Saints Sebaldus, Lawrence, Jacob, and Aegidieu Churches, — embellished with the finest ornaments that sityle ever produced, and containing many statues of angels, apostles, and bishops in their 6+ GAEHERED BV THE WAY. niches. Antl, in the proximity of these temples of God, on the streetis and s(iuaa:^s, you will tind foun- tains, that are wTought in the same manner, orna- mented with animal heads, true to life, out of which water flows into baisins. We claim that these public wells could stand in the con-idors of kings' pala.ces, and their o^Tiei's would be proud of them. 'So one need be an airtist to notice the magnificent taste displayed in tiese cathedrals, founts and other public and pa-ivate edifices at Nuernberg, for they are miracles of human inge- nuity, aud impress us at first sight -with the idea that only masterhands could have produced them. When, thirty yenrsi ago, we traveled through. Bava- ria, aud a laudable curiosity led us to view this wonder of the Sliddle Ages, we came, when ap- proaching the city, upon a wall with small towers, and it seemed to us that our great-gi-amdsire, in a suit of the time of llenrA- YIII, had, on a sud- den, risen before our eyes. But tliis was only the beginning of our surprise; for, when we had en- tered Nuernberg, we walked through irregular up- and-down streets (so narrow that only two teams were able to comfortably pass each other) on a rough-paved sidewalk, between two rows of houses, with small windows and diminutive panes (stand- ing very close together, with their gables to the front, their upper stories projecting over the lower about half a foot), until we aiTived at a broader street or a square, where we saw the city hall, the sanctuaries, public wells, etc., spoken of above. The most remarkable biiildings at Nuernberg, according to our taste, are the Churches of St. Law- rence and St. Sebaldus. The latter contains the tomb of the saint whose name it b^mrs, on which GATHERED BY THE WAY. 65 Peter Yisclier and liis five sons, famous sculptors of the fifteenth century, erected a monument rep- resenting the twelve Apostles (all in bronze) watch- ing over the body of the departed, — a masterpiece that rivals anything ancient or modern art has pro- duced. In the former v>-e found a pyx of rare beau- ty, which could also bear comparison with what- ever has been made in the line of the Beautiful by human hands. 2«o traveler should fail to visit these miracles of the Dark Ages, as we condescend to call them. We do not wish, however, to tax our kind friends' patience too much by proceeding in this strain, and were solely led to dwell on these wonders on ac- count of the great impression they made on us when we saw them for the first time; and their images still tower in our memory, after so long a period has passed into the bosom of Eternity. Among the relics of the all-destroying time, in one of the chapels, is found a crucifix of exquisite workmanship, and of an unparalleled expression of suffering in the features of the Savior, which in- terests us here. The name of its maker is not known, but a legend is attached to it, and brought down from generation to generation unto this day. In the twelfth century, it is related, there lived in Nuernberg, among the sculptors, one of the most efficient in their craft, who had acquired a reputa- tion all over Germany. He wa.s, at the time of this occurrence, about sixty years of age; had been in the city all of his life; and had many admirers among his colleagues. A younger artist, at Cob- lenz, who had heard of the prodigy, wished to be- come personally acquainted with him, and wrote a (50 GATHERED HV THE WAV. letter asking leave for a visit, to which the old man graciously consented. On the morning- the guest was to an'ive, our sculptor walked up and down in his studio, (con- tained in a large building of brick and marble, which stood isolated in one of the suburbs of the city, and was surrounded with a cluster of large oak-trees, forming a small park), and looked at the work he had just finished. He shook his head as one does who is dissatisfied with himself. "In- deed," said he, "with diligence a,nd skill, I have A\'orked at this figure of Christ, but it is, at the best, a picture, pure and simple, — a dead form made by human hands. Where is life in this? Where the expression of the agony of one dying by crucifix- ion? This spiteful marble mocks me. It wall never become reality. It remains soulless stone. All I have accomplished in this piece is a pleasant, smooth form, which the experience of many years in our profession teaches. The art, however, to create what is equal to real existence, — ^where is it here? Everj' bungler could produce a figure like this." While he Avas thus soliloquizing, the expected visitor entered the room, greeted his host most cor- dially, and then gazed at the object of the master's observations. He was gxeatly touched at seeing 1. the Avonderful image of the Crucified, and said to its fro. owner: "When I look at thine art, mine own en- abouleavors disappear before it, like the shadow under street^e rays of the sun. Here I find beauty of form, sanctudred with the most thoreugh finish mine eyes The mLbeheld." Hereupon the old sculptor said: according l seemst inclined to joke; othei*\\-ise, thou rence and St not admire this cold stone, as if thou wert tomb of the GATHERED BY THE WAV. 67 enamored with death." The j'oung man then re- plied: "It may be that the peace of death envi- rons thy figure of the expiring Savior, so singular- ly silent is it; but I shall not argue with thee about it. I see, with deepest admii*ation, the miracu- lous taste displayed in thy work, and greedily im- bibe it. I behoJd what is present; thou, of course, mayst notice the missing." While they were thus discoursing, the master's eyes rested on the youth. He had hardly ever be- fore seen such a remarkable specimen of manly beauty, — so vigorous, so well-proportioned, so blooming. Such a form might well suit him for a model, he thought. He meditated a little, and then said: "Thou findst me in despair of infusing this stone with life. My knowledge of Nature aban- dons me right here, and it would be useless for me to look for models in this city, because there are none who have the bodily endowments to serve my purpose; and, if I should ask thee^ — whose form by fa,r exceeds in perfection any I ever saw — to pose before me, it would probably be in vain." The vis- itor, after having for a few moments considered this indirect offer, answered: "I should not be averse to thy desire, if it is spoken in earnest, as I think it might serve the Lord and also our profession." The old man was verj^ much pleased with this answer, and they agreed that the work should begin the next morning in the studio; and thus thej^ parted. II. Especially anxious on this day to commence his task, the sculptor is up betimes, and waiting im- patiently for the arrival of his new friend. The young man appears at the appointed hour, and 68 GATHERED BY THE WAY. Mheu the master beholds tlie rare beauty of the naked youth's form, he is elated at his good for- tune, and examines, with the understanding of a true artist, every muscle. While doing so, the thought presents itself to him: How would it be if pain should thrill through this wonderful human frame? And Avith a sudden resolve, he says: "If thou wishest to see me succeed well, tJiou wilt have to liang before me on this cross." The guest ailoAVS himself to be fastened with ropes, but hardly is he helpless, when the sculptoa' hastens into an adjoin- ing room, gets spikes and hammer, and nails the poor unsuspecting youth to the wood, who is thus made a victim of the aged man's infatuation. After the first nail has passed through his foot, the unfortunate one screams; but the master has no ear for it. He watches, as one spell-boaind, evei'y mo- tion of the mai-tyr, and thus he continues until the last iron has penetrated the limbs of the bleeding man. He then seizes the tools, and begins to chisel his marble-block, with an expression of superhu- man joy at the thought of having found a model ac- cording to his own heart's desire, and of being able to imitate the features of one who is crucified, in his progressing agony. The sculptor's hands are working incessantly and with delibei'ation. His heart, has ceased to be human ; the stone, under his tools, only assumes the semblance of life; and whether the sufferimg one be praying, whether in hopeless tortures he weep, the artist, regardle,ss of his victim's lamentation, worlis on untiringly. Thus one day goes by; the second passes; thetliird sun is sinking behind the clouds, and with it the life of the poor youth on the cross is slowly waning. "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani!" he ejaculates, and. GATHERED BY THE WAY. 69 with a great effort, he lifts his head, and his last sighs re-echo in the studio. Then he falls back, and expires, and accomplished is an unheard of outrage, but finished also a piece of art ^vhich has no parallel on earth. III. "Eli, EH, lama sabachthani!" That was the cry which could be heard the same evening in the cathedral, but whose voice it w'as that uttered these words no one knew. Near the altar on which a dim light glimmered, moving its shadow to and fro, the form of an aged man was seen. He knelt on the stone pavement, and struck his head, again and again, on the floor, with passionate vigor; so that the sound re-echoed in the vaulted chapels. Then prayers followed during the whole night, a^ of one who is in despair, and implores the Lord for mercy. But when that gloomy light was extin- guished, and the new sun showed Nature in all her splendor, this w^retched being gave one last sigh and disappeared. And now, as it is Pentecost, a pious crowd ar- rives, and fills the sanctuary, to attend the morn- ing service. As soon as priest and sacristan ap- proach the altar, behold! there hangs a marble figure of the Crucified, so wonderful as had never been seen before. "Thus it is our Lord has strug- gled with death ! Thus it is He sacrificed Himself for the wicked world!" When the sinners look at it, their hearts are pierced by penitence; and "Christ eleison!" they cry, and kneel before Him Who brought salvation to them as He did to the virtuous. "It seems hai-dly credible that human hands could have made such a form divine. But 70 GATHERED BY THE WAY. how singular that it waiS brought here in the night time! It can be from no one but our old sculptor, who, doubtlessly, has delajed this woi'k in order to reach the perfection of art. What can we do to fittingly reward this miraculous gift? Gold alone will nerer do. That is too low for such a man. With a crown of laurels let us encircle his noble brow!" As soon as this suggestion is made, a pro- cession is formed by priests and laity, and marches to the master's house. They soon arrive there, but find the doors imlocked, and nobody answers to tlieir call. Drums are beating, trumpets blowing, cymbols sounding! No one appears to bid them welcome. Still and deserted is the place. At last some one says that he saw a man di'essed in a pil- grim's garb leave the house this morning. The im- patient people now rush into the room, and, when they arrive at the sculptor's studio, they open the door, and see-— But let us rather drop a veil over the hoiTible deed. IV. He whom they lead hithen\'ard they aecuse of having blasphemed Mohammed. He is a German sculptor, from Bavaria, returning from a pilgrim- age. They found him doing penance under yonder tree. It is the same man who gave such a wonder- ful account of the holy sepulcher. Death is the penalty if he will not do homage to their prophet. Will the old man show the courage of the first Christians? May the Lord enlighten his soul! They offer him glistening gold, and gold is tempt- ing. It will be his, and he will live, if he yields; if not, he must die. Do not look thither! Some- thing fearful they prepare! These fanatics are GATHERED BY THE WAY. 71 used to spilling human blood, and we may soon ac- company the martyr to his ginave. Lo, there he comes ! He is led in triumph. Does he not look as cheerful as one who^ walks to a marriage festival? Has he, perhaps, yielded? Oh, no! He remains firm. They proceed on their bloody errand. A palm beckons from oni High to the brave warrior of the Lord. Hark ! He speaks to some of his Breth- ren in Christ: "Pray, do not weep. Did. I when I nailed that innocent youth to the cross? My heart had turned to stone. The sign of Cain is on my forehead. Move on! Oh, Thou who hast suf- fered death for me, it is Thy will that: my protract- ed agony now cease! I did not hope that I should find peace so soon, nor did I deserve it; for life, not death, is torture tO' me. Receive me now, oh, Lord, into Thine arms!" After he had spoken thus, the hangman lays hold of him and nails him to the ci-oss. When the pain thrills through the mar- tyr's bones, he seems tO' be relieved of an inner tor- ture, and an exi^ression of peace spreads over his countenance. "Ora pro nobis!" the true believers cry. While his suffering lasts, he is praying inces- santly for mercy. Thus, one day passes by, a sec- ond one, and still he lives. A third sun sinks in the West; and, when its last rays fall on his enfee- bled body, with a last eifort he tries to see those surrounding the cross, cries, "Eli, Eli,' lama sa- bachthani !" and expires. (J GATHERED BY THE WAY. NOBODY ESCAPES AZKAEL. Pious David, Poet and Prince, after a life full of trouble and worry, and many wars with foreign and domestic enemies, among whom were even members of his own household, died leaving his en- larged kingdom of Jerusalem to his favorite son, Solomon, who could now enjoy his father's posses- sions in peace, and whose name was destined to be- come a prototype of all men governing stages, on account of his marvelous prudence, moderation, and magnificence. Having aissumed the govern- ment, the new Ivuler commenced to build the Tab- ernacle of the Lord, and the royal palace on the mount, both of which his parent had planned, and his vessels visited, as we i"ead, all known lands, to purchaise fine timber, gold, and precious stones for this purpose; and thus the Bible frequently quotes "Ophir," whither they went, which seems identical with the Cape of Good Hope, Cornwallis (in Eng- land), or Memel (on the Baltic), for it is certain that these cities have been reached by the Pheni- cians, with Avhom the Hebrews rivaled for the world's traffic. Well-to-do men , dear colleagues, make friends easily; and for that reason, if for no other, we wish you to be successful in worldly matters. But the glowing brilliancy of wealth also attracts flat- terers, who, luckily, sometimes get scorched by it, which we consider to be o'uly according to justice; for, what, for instance, would that intolei'able scamp of a mosquito care about the light-spending quality of a lamp were he not drawn to it by its splendor? Thus, it came to pass in the case of the hero of this little story, that, as soon as the happy GATHERED BY THE WAY. 73 state of his affairs became known, all the princes of foreign countries hastened towards Zion, to pay him their respects, among whom was also that blue stocking of Seba, whose name has since become the target of many writers for their more witty than delicate remarks. From observation, Ave have come to the conclu- sion, without considering ourselves pessimistic, that the average mortal is a.n inferior product of Nature, and general enlightenment only the dreain of a few enthusiasts, who believe in a millenium. Thus it is noAV, and seems to have been always; and, if an extraordinary man ever appeared on the world's stage, humanity were prone to ascribe his acts to witchcraft; and this pro.bably is the rea- son why there exist so many tales of magic where- in Solomon has a leading part. Among them I have found one which seems worthy of repetition, as it contains the moral that nobody can avoid death when his time has aiTived for it; and here it is. Among the many guests of the monarch was one that enjoyed a great reputation; i. e., the rich and learned Eunjeet Singh, Eajah of Hindustan, who had come to make the acquaintance of Solomon, and also of the wealthy and enterprising mer- chants of the capital, with whom he wished to bar- ter. As he remained quite a. while, he and his host often had pleasant talks together, at sundown, while promenading in front of the palace garden. One day, a,s they were walking in the described manner, over a newly laid mosaic pavement,' a man dressed all in- white and vei-y pale paced with them, at some distance, and gazed inquisitively at the Hindu, as though desirous of addressing him. 74 GATHERED BY THE WAY. When this had lasted a -while, Runjeet became aware of it, and asked his companion, somewhat alarmed: "Say, great king, who is yon sad-faced youth, following the tempo of onr feet so per- sistently?" And hereby he pointed with his finger towards the stranger. Solomon glanced in sur- prise, in the indicated direction, and then said, laughingly : "Oh, I know him well ; it is the Angel of Death, or Azrael, as our people call him. But thou, Rajah, of course, art not afraid of him?" Hereupon the Hindu answered: "That the Terri- ble One may not approach thy friend, and rob me of my sioul, pray, great Monarch, screen my person before Azrael, and send me, thou, who controlst the winds of the air and the waves of the sea, back to my beloved home, the blessed India, as fast as thou canst." Solomon looked up to the sun, raised his right hand, and spoke a prayer, and, lo ! out of the chi*ysoprase of his ring grew a red column of fire, and formed itself into a cloud. A breeze com- menced to stir, lifted the prince on the airship, and carried him eastward, (his richly ornamented silk caftan flying in the air like a flag), baick lo his resi- dence. The king, being left alone, was now approached by Azrael, who asked him : "Tell me, Solomon, was not the man thou hast just dispatched thy guest, Runjeet Singh?" "Thou saidst it," replied the prince. "Thou didst well," then spoke the Angel, "because 1 am just on my way to India, to seize him in his palace." THE LEGEND OF ALEXANDER. I like to read the stories of olden times, when men lived with whole souls, whose ambition it was GATHERED BY THE WAY. 75 to fill the world with the fame of their deeds, in preference to those contained in the volunies that are written in our j>eriod, which never touch the depths of our hearts, but are calculated to in- crease the thirst for excitement only. Such tales we find in the tomes of the old Greeks, Eomans, and Hebrews, and of the bards that lived in the Mid- dle Ages. I have read in them sometimes until my eyes grew dim, and often even until the morn- ing sun broke through the clouds, and gilded all Nature with his brush of light. I found in the old literature a legend of Alexan- der the Great, which I think especially interesting. The brave king's fame had spread over all the coun- tries of the Orient and Occident, as is always the case with thosewhoknow how to spill human blood in torrents. Moving across the desert with his strong army,and intending to conquer the blessed lands lying east of the Caspian, Phillip's son ar- rived at the border of a beautiful stream, of which he had never heard before. He ordered his sol- diers to rest and prepare a meal under the fragrant trees growing there, while he lay down and medi- tated; but, thinking of crowns not yet won and em- pires unconquered, he was soon on his feet again, and walked impatiently to and fro in the shade. Then he knelt down on the river bank, to slake his thirst. Hardly had he moistened his hand when he felt a wonderful thrill pass through him, and a more than earthly vigor come into his limbs. He then remembered what his teacher, Aristotle, had told him about this miraculous stream; and, after the soldiers had refreshed themselves, he gave com- mand to proceed north, so that the blessed country from whence it issued should also learn of him. 76 GATHEREU BY THE WAY. After a clay's joui'uey, they stood before the Gar- den of Edeu; but the king found it closed, and be- fore its adamantine gate stood a Cherub with a flaming sword, defending its entrance. "What dost thou want?" asked the Angel. "A Being more powerful than thou and I has put me here, to guard this place; therefore desist, for thy power ends where thou standst." Hereupon Alexander said: "Dost Thou not know that I am the master of the world, and no one can resist me? Open for me the gates of paradise." "Never," the Angel re- plied. "Thou just spakest thioie own judgment. It is only to persious who overcome their heai'ts' de- sires that I am instructed to give admittance to this beautiful spot, and not to those who follow the impulses of their selfish nature." Then the king, well knowing he could not contend with the holy Being before him, said: "If I be not per- mitted to enter this gate, Thou Spirit, at least give Thy servant a token of Thy favor, so that I can show it to the world as a proof that it is only Alex- ander who had the ambition to approach the con- fines of this holy spot." "Here, take this," said the Cherub, "and learn what it will teach thee, and be wiser in the future;" and herewith he handed Al- exander a small bone, which seemed to belong to the human body; and thus the king departed. The next day the great warrior assembled the magicians, priests, and wise men of his staff, and laid befoiie them the gift of the Angel, and asked them, smilingly, what they thought they could learn from this piece of half-decayed bone. Then tlie oldest of their number spoke as follows: "Do not despise it, great king. If thou only understandst to ask, tliou wilt receive a satisfactory answer." GATHERED BY THE WAY. 77 He then ordered one of the bystanders to bring a pair of scales, and put into one of them the small bone he had received from the king, and the other scale he filled with pure gold; and, lo! the insig- nificant bone weighed more than the gold. Alex- ander toiok scepter and crown, and added it to the precious metal, but the small bone still outbal- anced the gold and the regalia. The monarch was greatly surprised, and could not comprehend what had disturbed the common law of gravitation. The sage hereupon took a handful of sand from the soil on which they stood, and added it to the gold and the other objects; and this made the scale con- taining the bone . go up at once. And now the priest of Zeus said to Alexander : "This little piece of bone, oh king, is the socket of a man's eye, as thou canst distinguish by its form, — of that eye which is not content with gold, scepter, and crown, but needs in addition to them a little of the ground, in which it will rest one day, to outweigh its wishes. 'I'ake heed, great monarch, and do not ask too much, or Providence will soon add the grave to thy posse>ssions, to satisfy thy soul's hunger." Alexander did not heed the lesson the Cherub had given him. He went on warring against the nations of Asia, and died there young. An un- known grave in India covers his ambition; but, over his corpse, his generals fought bloody battles for the spoils of his prowess. His posterity be- came extinct, and his body, crown, scepter, and kingly robes were eaten by worms. GATHERKD BV THE WAY. THE FIRST LOCOMOTIVE. or Horse and Ass. The lowly ass Eats oats and grass ; The noble steed Does starve and bleed. Some fifty years ago, when the first rails were laid to enable the newly invented steam engine to move smoothlj- over a roadbed, there lived near Manchester a wealthy farmer, who, among other live stock, owned a white stallion and a donkey. We all knew that, in times past, animals performed mii'acles, and also talked, when great opportunities presented themselves, — for instance, that the steeds of Achilles wept over the 'tomb of their lord; that the she-ass of Balaam cursed the heathenish king, and blessed the Jews; and the most famous of the genus caiTied the holy family to Egypt. But, be this as it may, these two beasts of our peasant met with one of those extraordinaiy things that happen only once in two thousand years, and we cannot wonder that it enabled them to talk like human beings. They were standing in a stable, with windows facing the field, the rear of the building running parallel with the railway track, and only separated from it by a narrow lane, wherein a low thorn hedge grew. The horse stood near the window, and gazed inquisitively at the long rails extending in both directions; while the donkey stood silently bj', feeding on something that lay in the crib. On a sudden, the shrill, penetrating sound of a whistle was heard, which nearly frightened the stallion out of his senses, and made the ass jump; and a stead- GATHERED BY THE WAY. 79 ily increasing, rumbling noise came nearer and neaff'er to the place that shelter'ed the two ani- mals. When they had become somewhat accus- tomed to the disturbance, they both looked out oi the window, and now, for the first time in their life, espied the iron monsiter which human ingenu- ity had devised to move wagon loads without the use of animal power. Hereupon the horse began to groan, and thus gave expression to his feelings: "Forsooth! Had Mother Nature not covered me with a white hide already, what I just saw would be apt to bleach my hair in a moment, which sometimes is caused by great shocks, as I have heard my dear granny re- late, when still in my foalhood. Indeed, threat- ened is the whole posterity of our noble race, and to me, though 1 am a white stallion, a black future it prognosticates. How shall we, poor beings, in future exist, Avhile locomotives are running, able to pull such enormous loads, as I just witmessed. If man can exist without us, and do his teaming with this iron beast, Goiod bye, oh, clover! Adieu to oats! Is not the human heart made of steel? Man cares a fig for salvation ! He will mercilessly drive us away, and we shall starve, for we cannot steal or get something on trust, like these two-legged sinners, nor do we understand how to flatter like man, dog, or cat; and so before long the skinner will have a picnic with us and offer our hides at wholesale prices." While the poor stallion was speaking in this strain, the ass chewed his thistles philosophically, and acted as though the whole occurrence did not concern him in the least. But, when he had swallowed his cud, he licked his snout with 80 GATHERED BV THE WAY. gTeat satisfaction, and quietlj- answered thus: "As far as this matter relates to mine own person, I do not feel in the least inclined to bother my head about things that will be." He then paused, and looked ironically at his compainion, and, at seeing him hanging- liis head in a gloomy manneir, he grew eloquent, — nay, even poetical, and proceeded as fol- lOAA'S: Ye high-cultivated horses have cause T' expect from the future gTeat danger; We low-standing asses, howe'er, we feel ]^o doubt as t' our food in the manger. Ye gentle-born horses, each color and size. The people can chase from the stable; But, Avhatever the fault of us donkeys may be, T' exchange us for steam they 're not able. 'Tis true, this engine is very smart The human being is making. But the life and weal of a real ass, With all her great skill, she's not shaking. The Lord will never abandon his ass. His patient duty-filler. Who daily, as, 'fore him, his fajthers have done. Does can"y his load to the miller. The mill wheel rattles; the corn is ground, And is stored by him in the flour shed; The baker then gets it, and kneads it to dough, For man wants cookies amd lye bread. In such an eternal circle the world Will move, in a steady renewal, And regular, ais this is the course of man's life, The ass, too, is sure of his fuel. THIRD PART. POEMS OF THE MAN IN THE MOON. Motto: Singe, wem Gesang gegeben, In dem Deutschen Dichterwald. [Uhland.] MY POEMS. After Horace's "Nonum Prematur in Annum." Full nine years in my desk I did keep them before they were published, And thej' remained have the same I had known them of yore. Many old verses I've read that hardly deserved my perusal. Poetry isn't like wine, that with the seasons im- proves. HAIL AMERICA. A Hymn with Chorus. Voice: Know you tlie land that rises from the wave In one unbroken stretch, — a block gigantic, — To the Pacific shore from the Atlantic? Whose hills and vales the clearest waters lave? Whose prairies of immeasurable vastness. And highlands steep, of freedom are a fastness? Chorus: Oh, yes! We know that cotintry, know its name; Without an equal is its glory, fame. Voice: Know you the nation that, to guard its rights, Did, after many years of service loyal To England's commonwealth and seepter royal, • — A new Enceladus, — ariseiwith might. And smote, as lightning bolts fall in a shower. Upon the Briton's mercenary power? * Chorus : Oh, yes! We know the people, know their name. Without an equal is their glory, fame. *I cannot share my Innar friend's antagonistic feelings towards our trans- atlantic cousins, e.xpres3ed in his poems "Hail America" and "George Washing- ton," my position being that of a cosmopolitan, according to the Roman, " Omnia terra raea patria," but I could not well suppress these songs witliout becoming unfaithful to my pledge. 84 GATHERED BY THE WAY. Voice: Know you, on tbe peninsula, the town Whose image, in the dear Potomac rivei'^s Slight-i'uffled silver wave reflected, quivei-s? AVhei-e statues, temples, nniseums, are shown Whose art with liome's and Athens' treasures rival? W^here senatesi meet with every team's revival ; Chorus: Oh, yes! We know the city, know her name; Without an equal in her glory, fame. Voice : And do you know the virtuous government Of the United lands, and its resources, That law creates and law also enforces? Those houses headed by a president ^Vhom people's voice, to better be protected, Out of .their ranks — a crownless king — elected? Chorus: Oh, yes! We know the rulers, know their name; Without an equal in their wisdom, fame. Voice: Then, sure jow know the flag, where'er unfurled, (Ou mig-hty hills and rocks, on low and high land, In foreign empires, or on sea and island), Her stai's and stripes she shows the wond'ring world: To be a symbol of our Time's Perfection, A shield of Freedcjm and the Eig-ht's Protection! Chorus: The flag, thou speakst about, we know full well; Her fame and glory have no parallel I GATHERED BY THE WAY. 85 ON GEORGE WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. A Tribute. There is a. tim,e to try man's hieiart: When Washington was born, Our country was in fetters held, Of her rights by the English shorn. On Britain's throne a ruler sat Who the iron shackles forged Tying the hands of our fathers dear. Their wealth with his favorites gorged. The pilgrims' children bore the cross With loyalty sublime, Until the tyi-ant gTew too bold, And to> strike had come the time. The roll of the war drnm then was heard. The trump ets rang o'er the land ; And Washington was called ui>on, To lend their causie his hand. A task it was of life or death Our fathers undertook; The cannons' r-oar the heaven rent. The earth to her center shook. Thus strove the brave for many years, And drove the Britons home. And formed an empire of their own, To be their Libenrty's dome. And made their leader president, — Their George for an English George, — And called their capital by his name, Who taught them swords to forge. 86 GATHERED UY THE WAY. We, therefore, celebrate this day, The day our hero's born; Will always praise his memory. And lords and tyrants scorn. ABKAHAM LINCOLN. In Memoriam. Of him to-day I sing Whose glory has no spot, And know "what I here bring Will in man's bosom ring. As long as planets swing, When I am long forgot. The p-aitriot strove in vain To reconcile our foes. The South fought' for the stain Of serfdom inhumane; To break its iron chain We Northern people rose. They were the first to draw Their. swoird, to conquer us; We, lovers of the \a^', Kebellion's Hydra saw Open her rav'nous maw, And feared our Union's loss. To strike for equal I'ight, Into battles we were led Black and gloomy as night Illumed by comets' light; And thus, in the gory fight, The kindreds' blood wa^' shed. GATHERED BY THE WAY. 87 But 'bove us all shjone high, Our Nation's flag in hand, Lincoln. His battle crj^ : '•'The country's Unity And man's Fraternity!" Thus fought he to the end. Accomplished it, the brave. And perished for our cause. We laid him in his grave; But free was now the slave. The stars and stripes were safe, Eestored God's holy laws! GENBEAL SHERMAN'S DEATH. A Dirge. Another hero dead! Before Thj curtain, Death, We stand, bereft of breath. And ask thee, why thy keen-edged scythe Doth reap the sad, the blithe. And those in gloTy clad. They lay him in his graA'e. We stamd, deep sighing, by. The tear in our dim eye Does question: "Shall our noblest go. And leave us here to woe? Shall die our good, our brave?" Of heroes three, was he The last. The others went Before him, when God sent His holy Angel, to remove Whom He too much did love To miss tieir company. f^"^ GATHERE1> HY THE WAY. But they for aye are born. Their being's never past. Such men are made to last. Their words and deeds immortal are, As yon e'erlasting star The North-sky doth adorn. COLONEL EUGENE P. JACOBSON.' A Memorial. Died May 3, 1881. I cannot speaJc, I canuiot write, My heart is sick, is broken quite; The one oin earth I loved the most Lies soulless on the bier, — is dust. This thoughtful forehead, eyes full love, Will never more with Idndness move; Soon will he rest in a lon'ly grave. Thus died the bravest of the brave! In sorrow, words for which do fail, — Her face, a Niobe's, marble pale, — Lacking a tear, and reft of. life. Over his body bends his wife. No child to kiss Ms lifeless hand; But, him beside, the people stand. Whose friend and father he ever was. They fill the hall with their "Alas!" My true beloved, my brother, died! A coffin black will open wide, Will take the hero to his rest, And leave me here on earth a guest. • Note.— Born May 3, 1841, Id Prussia: enlisted in ISCl as a volunteer; fought bravel.v during the War of the Rebellion: was twice wounded: received two medals of honor for brave conduct in the battles of Chancelloravllle and Antlelam: was promoted, and died as senator of his state, in the service of his adopted country. Blessed be his memory, and may his life and acts be ejramples for com ing generations. GATHERED BY THE WAY. 89 SONG OF THE EMIGRANT. My home, my sweet, beloved, old home, I still am bound to thee! Shall it forever be my doom Away fi'om thee to be? When, in my lon'ly ev'ning hours, I dream of thee, my land, Before mine eyes thy shadow tow'i"s,- Mv sioTTo^' has noi end. And when I read the merry rhymes, The ones as youth I sang, They sound to me like funeral chimes, So woeful is my pang. And thimk I of my parents old. Their heads in silver dressed. Of whom my dreams so often told That in the grave they rest, — And that f ofre'er from them I went, Their wayward, restless son: Oh, then my heart in twain is rent. And all my life is gone! There is no field, there is no grove. In all this land, so vast. That like to thee, my home, I love. And cherish to the last. 90 GATHERED BY THE WAY. LITTLE VIOLET. Where from the rock the waters Flow down into the vale, Where they, in ceaseless murmurs, Their fairy tales exhale, There stands a blue-eyed flow'ret. All gentlexiess and love! And glazes art: the crj^stalis Descending from above. A wanderer is approaching. He sees the violet blue; He bears in his pious bosom A soul full passion true. He kneels by the charming blossom, All doubt and feair Ms heart: "How sweet a little flower, How innocent thou art! "Oh, let my wanderings end here, Mgh thee, sweet, fragrant herb ! And let us dream together What life cannot disturb. I'll drink the spring, refreshing, The sweets thou dost exhale, And, when I'm dead, be buried Here, in thy quiet vale." BY THE SEA. Years ago, when life was blissful. In a cottage by the sea, Dwelt a charming little maiden, Who was all the world to me. GATHERED BY THE WAY. 91 Yes, I liked thait little maiden, And thie little girl liked me; And i eo'urted her, that maiden, In the cottage by the sea. And she told me how she loved me, That blessed maiden by the sea. But I loved her, thought I loved her, Better fiar than she did me. For my heairt was filled with passion. And the stings of jealousy; And though hers was calm, forgiving, We did often disagree. And, alas! the Heaven grew angry O'ei" this lack of hairmony. Sent grim Deaith, who seized my maiden. In the ciottage by the sea. Since that hour the world is rayless, Sorrowful, — is dead to me; For my soul cannot forget her Who was more than life to me. Where the Ocean's rolling waters Sing their miournful melody, I sit lonesome, weeping, dreaming Of my charm tr, by the sea. VERSES FOR A YOUNG GIRL'S BIRTHDAY. Helen R . 1890. While others play, to pleaisures yield, Digst thou, sweet girl, in Muses' field ; In heart so youmg, such holy fire Induces me toi tune my lyre. 92 GATHERED BY THE WAY. These Homer's woi-ks a token be Of my esteem, my joy to see Tliat, even in the youngest heart, The goddess pLints her seed of art. THE TKUE BAKD. After Richard Wagner's Mtistcrsingers. After Richard Wagner's Meistersingers! When fields in verdant gowns are dressing. The sun sends down his balmy rays, With milder kisses Earth caressing, And birds and bees sing spring's sweet lays ; When youthful souls are liquid fire. The heart is filled with dreams of love: A wind-harp is thy bosom's lyre. Through which the airs of magic rove. But when sad autumn's leaves are falling. When blasts and rain-storms frequent are ; The flying throngs, with shrieks appalling, Take wing amd seek the southeosn star; When head and heart no more do cherish The direams of thine once hopeful days, And still thy songs not cease, — not perish They will, they'll last, thy thoughts, thy lays. GATHERED BY THE WAY. 93 EVENING CHIMES. I. The h'ammoick is my church pew; My temple is the sky; The stars of Heaven my tapers; My choir the cricket's cry. The spirits of my dreamland, My fancies blithe and fair, That rustle through my heart-strings. They are my evening pray'r. Thou star, with changing colors, That shinest dark and light, Art like my early boyho'Od, — Now glooimy and now bright. Bemindst me of mj pareut, Whoi saink in an early grave. Of my most virtuous mother, Who love and lore me gave. Thou glorioais star, that glistenst On Heaven with radiamt fire. Art like the blissful love dream, The theme of my youtliful lyre. Was it a real being Which o'er my soul did steal, Or but a faiir illusion My tender heaiit did feel? 04 GATHERED BY THE WAY. Did I embrace a goddess, My soul had formed so bold, And did she bear me angels, A blessing thousandfold? Immovable star that yonder Adornsi the northern sky, A token of my f utune In thee I do descry. Whatever on life's journey, I destined was to be, In thee I always trusited, Full hope did gaze'iatthiee. I cradle in my hammock, And look at the downy cloud; I hear the cricket's music. Now soft, and now more loud. I see the shining army, The eternal riddle, above, And trace my lifetime backward, My dreams of fame and love. Were they but idle phaaitoms? Were all those hopes of youth. Like yon mysterious starlights, A mask but for the truth? Just th,en oomes little Greptie, And puts on my brow la kiss; And, lo, I know them real, — My love, my fame, my blisis! GATHERED BY THE WAY. 95 II. Harp aeoiiam, child of magic, Tender playmate of mild Zephyr, Thou and the human heart are equals, While time's dial onward moves. As in the springtime, balmy breezes Through thy wire strings softly rustle, And in whispers, scarcely audible, Q'hou thy wonder tale exhal'st, Thus from their lips the sighs do issue. When the sweet enchanting love dream Thrills the heaort of youth and maiden, — When their soul to the Unknown strives. Not so magical the voice is In our wars with Fortune's monsters : Change of luck and cajre and soriporw, — Burdens under which we quail. Lo, there sweeps a hot Sirocco! And thy voice, sweet harp, does quiver. And thy sounds are shrill and mournful As the moans of deep-felt woe. Winter's storms are also coming. Suddenly thy strings are broken! Will there be a second life? Heart and Harp give no more answer. III. Soft night ascends the Heaven's tent. In her gigantic mantle clad, With di'monds rich embroidered, A silver crescent on her head; The air is filled with flowers' scent. 9f) GATHEREI) BY THE WAY. The cares of dadlj' life, the uoise Of busy sti'eete^ are now at rest; The sun is hiding in the AA'est, Tlie birds fly twitt'ring tO' their nest; The cowbell's is the lO'udest voice Thou ill the golden dawn dost hear; The eA'ening star's resplendent beam, And crickets' ohirp, to cradle seem Thy inmosit feeling int' a dream. Eternity to thee is near. This is the hour to f oi"mer times Thine overburdened heaa-t to turn, To friends who once for thee were born, And now, for aye, from thee are torn. Of things long paist thy bosom chimes. TV. At night, ini the still and solemn night. Forth walks the silver moon, And sheds her sioft and liquid light On me, — the silvei- moon. I wander across the blooming vale, Alone, to the nearest wood. And listen to the night bird's tale. In the gi^en and fi-agrant wood. And nigh a brooklet I lie down, Where murm'ning plays the spnng; A bat flits by in the purple dawn. Melodious sighs the spring. There, on the pillow of soft grass, I dream of days bygone; Of life that is like verdant grass, — So frail, so sudden gone. GATHERED BY THE WAY. 97 Aud, aftea" the many cliaiiipjir"- 'iveams In the night's harmonious rest, My thoughts gi*ow bright as moonlight beams, And home I go to rest. The moon, the silent silver moon, Looked down on the village small; The golden ^stairs so brightly shone ; The poplars rose so tall. T wiamdered alone in the e"\'ening air, My fa<:-e against the bvppze. My head full thoughts, my he«rt full care. In the shade of the whisp'ring trees. I dreamt of the human pilgrimage, Our dooms, the good, the bad. That seem old Adam's heritage; I drea-mt I Avere yet a lad. With all those hopes of younger years WMch look on us so bright. And thought of the present, and how it appears,- Of all my gladness the flight. The many beloved ones, alas, I lost, The friends who forsaken me have; How lone on earth I wander now must. How frail, the nearer the grave. If there, perchamce, is a second life, In which our loss we shall mend. Or whether our prospects, whatever our strife, Is destined with lifetime to end. OS (lATriHKlil) HV TllU WAV. Tlic nuMJii, above, llic silent moon, Sliouo down so sick and palo; My licait <;:i-('\v faint, and I felt so lone, — It was but tlie olden t^ile! VI. ^\■lu'n day's hot star behind cloud's cui'lain sinks, And solemn nig-ht appetirs on raven wings, The sky in one gray-tinted cloak is hid, With rtaisliing silver pearls all overlit; AVhen trees ami leaves and HoAV(>rs, red and white, Enticed by zejdiyr's whisper, say "(Jood Night," And in the fragrant valley nanglit is heard r.ut cowbells' chimes, the leaders of the herd. The cricket's chirp, the distant tune in mires, — And iianght is seen but of dead brush the fires; Wiien moon and stars with soft aud quivering light ' iaze through the rustling leaflets, clear and bright. And every other creatuaie is at rest: Then man is not alcne; his swul is blessed With things immortal he descries ou High, — lie ilwells above, and is the Godhead nigh. YII. In aged days, when «hattereiv lan- guage, — ^ais luning sea'Aenl as a meiliuni of their acliieyeiueait»s in the iwvst, — tiie knowledge of for- eign literature must be cousiilered a means to pro- mote universal bi'otherhood of men. GATHERED BY THE WAY. 103 FlUTZ IJEUTEK. Fritz Reciter was born in the Duchy of Mecklembiirg, Ger- many, in the first part of our century, and is one of those bards in the world's literature whose number can be counted on the fingers of our hand. He has written in the ■ provincial dialect of his home, and is nearly unapproach- able to foreigners, and, even in the Fatherland, only under- stood bj' those who make his works a special study, or live in the northern part of the empire, and speak its language. Renter has all the endowments of a great artist. He knows the human heart to perfection, and his grasp into the natural, when depicting incidents of daily existence, borders on the marvelous. He combines with this the capacity of soaring into the regions of the pathetic; and there it is where he delights the soul of the reader the most ; and thus we are continually rocked on the boat of his fancy between a hearty laugh and a tear. His humor is often broad, but never cynical, and has not been paralleled by any poet, ancient or modern, except, perhaps, Shakes- peare, Burns, and Aristophanes. He has a unique facility of inventing comical situations of the persons acting in his stories, and their solution is surprisingly true to life. His works have produced a number of students, who travel all over the world (similar to our English minstrels) to recite from his writings; and the result of this is that Reuter is at present known in every place where Germans live; and we hardly see a home where one or the other of his books is not found; and thus the edition of the same is numberless. The life of this master of the pen is as remarkable as his productions are. He was one of those who spoke against oppression in 1848, and joined the revolutionary army which strove to obtain a constitution from the "Holy Alliance," so called. While Carl Schurz and many others escaped to foreign countries, he was captured by the Prus- sian government, tried for high treason, sentenced for life, 104 GATHEKEI) BY THE WAV. and interned at Spandaii,- where he remained six years: and, when finally amnestied, he had no bread in his home for himself and wife. In 1856 he was induced to publish his poems, for which his friends had subscribed. Hardly were thej- known, when it became necessary to renew the edition on a larger scale; and soon his reputa- tion had spread all over the land. He wrote now exten- sively in prose and in rhj-me, and the gains of his literary work enabled him to travel all through Europe and Asia Minor; and, as often as he returned, he gave the reading world a stor\' depicting the country he had seen, full of the most admirable humor and pathos. Renter has some similarity with the great Robert Burns ; also in respect to the unfortunate love of stimulants, — a vice he contracted while in prison. He describes his mode of life there in one of his works, named "Ut mine Festungs- tid." When the taste of drink had sway over him, he be- came insensible to an\'thing else, and remained thus for a fortnight ; after which he sobered down and returned to his tasks with renewed vigor, and enchanted his countr}'- men with the pearls from his spiritual treasure vault. He built for himself a palace at the foot of the famous Wart- burg, near Eisenach(where Luther has translated the Bible( and there died not long ago. The following translations are selections from his minor vk'orks, but a fair specimen of his st3'le. If time and health permit, I hope to be able to reproduce one of his prose pieces, selected with the view of pleasing the taste of the English speaking people. Fritz Renter enjoys the distinction of being one of the German poets in whose honor a statue has been erected in America, which may be seen in Lincoln Park, Chicago. GATHERED BY THE WAY. 105 IT IS STEADILY GROWING WOESER IN THE WORLD. Old Mother Sohultz is sinking fast; Rut, eire her soul in death finds rest, She'ld like to talk with Reverend Raker, And die in Peace with Christ, hev Maker. And of late her sorrows had been many ; She oft waiS sick and hadn't a pennj^ The priest arrives. He tells the poior, To die is hard, the fact is sure, But soon she'll be among the blest; Foi", aftei" all, in Heaven 'tis best, And here, on Earth, himself must own, Things haven't of late much better gTown, — Nay, worse and worse are getting hourly. "Thea'efoi'e, to Heaven turn thy mind. In Heaven alone tho'U rest Avilt find!" "Yea," said the sick, "thus thought I surely In Paradise to be the case; Of late, however, the people says, In Heaven also a change took place." HOW DIDST THOU GET IN? "What, in the dickens! Do I trust mine eyes, Or isn't this Jochen of Gross-Woldenweiss? Hello, dear boy, hast thou at last come down? Oome, sit by me, and take a drop, my son." "No; let me where I am yet stand a while." "Friend Jochen, say, art with thine team in town?" "No." ^'PTiobably thou hast made on foot that mile?" "No." 10(> OATHERIvI) HY THE WAV. "Purely, then, on horscbiuk it hiis been?" "X(t." "Not on horse? Not (lnvin<>? Not on font? IIow, in tlie ilevi], then, didst thou oet in?'' "I led a steer to town I'd sold to Groot." THE HELP. "I hardly think we brinj^- this hay Into the barn, uiy friend, to-day; No, no, we cannot brin<>- it in," — Says peasa.nt A'oss to ('a,rl Kolpien. It wa,s on his farm, near t^tolp, •where she Lies drows'ly by the lialtic Sea. "Yehann! Yehann!" he tlnnulers then, "\A'here, in the dickens, is thiat man?" He looks aronnd, he yells once more, J^nt no one answers to his roair. At last the missed one says, "lleHoI" And sticks his head ont from the stxa-w. "What do ye want? Whom call ye for?" "Where hast thon been this laist half hour? What didst thon do on that there staick?" "Oh, nothinjj;-, sir, I lay on the back. I'd eaten at lunch my waisit too- full. And thought to have a noon-day lull." "Rut where i.s CMshan?" Yoiss then said. And from the straw peeped out that head. "AVhat haist thon done on thait there heap? Where hast th(m been since dinner-time?'' "Oh, notliing, sir," .ssiid Christian lleim, "Yehann Avas there; I helped him sl('<'p." GATHERED DY THE WAY. 107 KEVERSED. 'Tis twelve o'clock. Old Pawu sliop Flanters Sits at his dinuier-table, ami a goose Before him stamls, when Isaiac Joel enters His (liniiig-rooiii, aiml says: "God bless, Freind ilose, Tlii'ue liome, God bless thine meal at noon. Bni what is tliis? By Abraham! So' soon? Is tliis already of the geeise? Look, loiok! JDiiiht days, and oiit they are from smoke? Mine Sai-ah liardly does't so quick. Loi'd Israel's, a goose smoked in a week!" Old Moises feels a, littile 'restless, Tliat just at noon amved a guest lias, -\nd of the bird Ike Jo'l to taiste is. Ilowe'er, it wouldn't do to sliglit him, And he coaicludes he must invite liim. "Come, sit thee down, and tiake n slice," lie says to him with a faltering voice. "Am sorry, cainniot; eat, aJrciaidy liad My luncheon at mine Uncle' Bice; A so'up, green peas, and beef we ate." "Don't mind thine dinner; taiste a. bit." "I really hungi-y am n't a whit; But, since thou pressest me ssio hard, I'll taste a slice," says Jo'l, and takes his seat Next to old Flanters, at the dining-board. And Ike is now in a taisting fit: "By God, tliis bird is aAvful juicy! Much sweeter tlian'niy Sliabba-s gooisie!" Anid Isaac tiaistew and tastes with a Avill, And uses knife and fcn-k with so much skill That soon the whole juicy goose is gone. Anil ni)thing 's left but its bare bone. 108 GATHKRED BY THE WAV. "Oh, weih," cried Moses, "that's too stark! Thou art a champion taster as I mark. Foi* the f iKture, hear, wha.t mine advice is : Eat dinner here, aiid taste at Kice's." A LITTLE DIFFEKENT. "Say, Jochen, dost thoiii niow a.gi'ee With tihine new boss. Lieutenant Zeh?" Fred Luthei''s asking Oonirade Hoehn. "Oh, yes; the worst is neaa-ly over; But every morning Ave do cm^er Each other's jaiclcet with a came, And by the collar have each other, And hit and hit. That's all. Friend Luther." "Thou thocais'h thine Herr? Is that possible? What thoii there sayst seems incredible!" "It's as I said, but a bit of difference There is, of course, in tine perforaiance; I cane his coat while he is goce. When I'm in mine ITis caneing's done." THE HEADACHE. "Good morning, sir. What medicine would sure One who's ailed with a, headache cure?" "A headache? That's a sickness a.pt to kill A steer. I'll give thee something, I distil From Indian herbs, the pain will soothe," — The druggist said to the peaisaut-youth. "Buit come, my son, and sit thee down, Thjou airt, no doubt, from Sugarbown?" "Yeis, siir, I serve at Philip's, and do chore." "But, say, is thie beadaiohe real bad?" GATHERED BY THE WAY. 109 " 'Tis very bad, and even mox'e, It's apt to make a person mad." "So come, a.nd do whait I advise. Shut tight the lids of thine blue eyes. That's it! Correct ! Niow stick thy noise As deep thou canst into this bottle white. Thus! Thus! Now 'tis alright. Keep closie! Now smell of it with all thy might." The country lad has promptly acted As he was told by Mister Sponge; Drew breath with nostrils tight contracted, And Bump! fell backward on the lounge. He lay unconscious there till noon. When he awakened from the swoon. The dcniggist saiid : "I trust, my sou, Thine headache now for a while is gone." "Oh, sir!" him answer gave the swain, "Not I, Miss Philip, had the pain." REVEKENCE FOE HIS DUKESHIP'S COAT. 'N old noible, by the name of Fred Von Itzen-Klas'S, lived on his land. From forefathers inherited, A country seat, its soil no sand, Full marshes, forests spread all over, And fields of wheat and rye and clover. A lord brought up to husbandi'y He was, a man we scarce now see, Of sterling honesty a lover. One morn, when eveffything was growing. He's loath to note a team was going Across his finest piece of clover; An early bird, to him unknown. But still to be discovered soon. 110 GATHKREI) IIY THK WAY. Our nolilomaii went out to watcli, The malefactor bound to catch; An OATHKRF.I) BY THE WAV. inriL OF MAGIC. The olfl magician, Avatc-hful ever, Has at last from home departed; And now shall his spirits clever Ouce by me for work be started. Every sign, eaeli >vord, I Watc'lied have, and their nse; And, my will's sole lord, I Wonders, too, produce. "Wander, Avauder, Being airy, Never Aveary ! From the river Water to the basin yonder. For a bath enough, deliver!" Come, old shaggy broom, get ready! By this garb my serf I make thee. Thou wert always true and steady; Now to Avorks of mine betake thee. On two legs stand upright, With a head on top. Go and fetch, thou hell sprite, Water to our shop. "Wander, Avander, Being airy. Never Aveary! From the river Water to the basin yonder, For a bath enough, deliver!" GATHERED IIY THE WAY. 1.'57 To the stream his course he's bending. Now, forsooth! he's down the border. Quick as fire, the heaven rending, He returns, — obeys the order. Now, with other strides, he Thither, hither, flies; And the tide besides me Makes a lake in size. "Soft, thou spirit, Talie thy leisure ; Thou didst measui^e Liberally." Mercy! I forgot, I fear it, By what word to stop his sally ! Woe, the word 'pon which his former Soulless life he recommences, Slipped my mem'ry. "Stay, thou Stormer! Broom, give up thine awful dances!" Lo, his speed increasing, lluns he to and fro ! Torrents, no more ceasing, Over me do flow. Never longer I can stand it; I must end it! It's pernicious! How his limbs grow strong and s.tronger! What a face! W^hat looks malicious! "Hell's, thou ofif spring. Ghost confounded! Wilt thou overthrow the dwelling? Thou'st in water nearly drowned it; See, the bath to a sea is swelling. 138 GATHERED I)Y THE WAY Broom, thou must be crazy ; Wooden stick of yore, Stop, and be as lazy As thou Avert before ! Demon wretched. Discontinue! Mark, I've sinew, Soon I'll stop thee. With the edge of this, my hatchet. Into halves, old wood, I'll chop thee!" Once again he is approaching; Now, forsooth, it's time to hit hiin. "To my feet I want thee crouching!" With one pow'rful blow I've split him. Bravo! It is ended. He is cleft in twain; All his might is spended, Gone my fear and pain. Woe me ! Woe me ! 'Nother servant. See, how fervent. Tall as towers, Both parts rise their skill to show me! Help me, ye eternal powers! And they run, like madmen raving; Into the hall the tide is rolling. O'er the threshold, 'pon the paving. "Master, master, hear me calling!" Lo, he just alighted! "Lord, I'm fated ill; Ghosts, by me invited, Stay against my will!" GATHERED BY THE WAY. 139 "Turn to flight thee! Watch in former Shape thy corner, Sweep the stable, Broom! To use, as 'n honest sprite, thee, Master skills alone are able." FOUND IN THE WOODS. One idle morning To the woods I went; To look for nothing Was my intent. I saw in the shadow A violet groms As radiant starlight Its eyes aglow. I wanted to break it, But it spoke: "Say, Shall I to wither Be carried away?" With all its rootlets I home it took ; In the garden I bore it, To a quiet nook. And planted, again it In shadow's rest. There stands it and groAvs now, In blossoms dressed. 140 GATHERED BV THE WAY. THE WANDEinXG BELL, Was once a boy who never went To Sunday-school with jjleasure, And always found a way to spend In the field his liours of leisure. I'he niothei' said: "There rings the bell, Of churcli she does remind thee; And, skipst again thou, come she wdll In person once to find thee." "The bell hangs safe," so thinks the ckild, "AboA'e the church in the tower." And for tlie field he makes, as wild As boys from school in a shower. "The bell, the bell, she chimes no more. I think dear mama twaddles. But, holy terror, what a roar! There comes she. How she waddles!" Slie tottiers wild, not real 't seems. The boy in a freight is flying; Close him behind tlie bell, he deems. To cover him is tindug. Across the field and marsh he runs In quickstep double, triple, Through ditch and bog, o'er stone and fence, Straight tow'rds the church's steeple. And heiaiis he now thje churchbell's voice. He's eager to obey her; And scarce she's spoken once, he flies To Sundaj'-school and prayer. GATHERED BY THE WAY. I4.I FEEDIXANl* FJ^EILIGHATH. Ferdinand Freiligrath was born at Dusseldorf ten years after Heinrich Heine. In his youth he was a merchant; but having published some poetry which made him known to the people of Germany, he turned his back upon the counter, and devoted himself fully to the literary arts, though a poor man. He received a pension from the Prussian King, but gave it up in 1848, (when the waves of Revolution ran high), and wrote against the government. In consequence of his political poen-.s he had to leave the land of his birth, and settled in London, where he became one of the leading spirits of the German Reform Party. He stood on friendly terms with all the persons belonging to "Young Germany." He was also intimate with Long- fellow, and others of our American literati, and translated his "Hiawatha," and Walt Whitman's "Leaves of Grass." He also rendered poems of Felicia Hemans, and, from the French, of Victor Hugo, Lamartine and others, into his native tongue. After an absence of nearly twenty-five years, Freiligrath received permission to return to his mother country, and died at Cannstatt in 1875, having lived long enough" to see the dreams ofhis younger years realized in the amalgama- tion of the many small sovereignties of the Fatherland into one compact body. In selecting his subjects, Freiligrath follows the realistic school, and loves the ghastly, but reconciles us with the frightening pictures of his fancy by a most natural des- cription of them, and by the masterly manner in which he handles rhvme and meter. 142 GATHERED BY THE WAV. THE KEVENGE OF THE FLOWEllS. On liei- white and downy pillows, Drest fo^r night, the maid reposes; Closed in sleep her silken eyelash; On her cheek the tint of roses. Nearby, on a wicker table, Stands a vase with motley flowers Fresihly plucked. Their blossoms' fullness Through the room rich odor showers. In the narrow little chamber Sultry summer heat is brooding; Window's closed, and soi is shutter, Breezes fresh and cool excluding. Silence round and dai'kness hover. Suddenly a whisper rises, — 'Tween the cups, the branches over. Hark! what wild, what eager voices! From the flower heads there issue Ghostlilie beings, vap'rous, airy; Hazy, light, their snow-white vesture; Golden crowns and shields they carry. In the rose's lap a youthful Virgin's slender form is seen. On her head loose hair-locks flutter; Pearls, like dewdrops, flash between. GATHERED BY THE WAY. 143 Fi'om the aconite's helmed chalice, With its rich and dark-green petal, Into the air, with sword and head-piece, Stalks a knight, full pow'r and mettle. Of the silver-plumed heron. On his head, a feather trembles. Out of the lily steps a maiden. Spider-web her hair resembles. Out of the martagioin, many-headed, Starts a negro, proud advancing; O'er his turban green a cresicent's Golden bow in the air is damcing. From the frittilary wanders Forth a king, his scepter swinging; Out of the iris blue his hunters Follow, heavj'' lances flinging. From the leaves of the narcissus Leaps a boy with gloomy features. To the maid; with fervor kisses He the lips, the lov'ly creature's. But thro' the room, with swaying motions, The others move, the maid surrounding; Dancing, they approach her cushions, Int' her ear this challenge sounding: "Maid, oh, maid, thou from the flow'rbed Merciless didst take us hither, Where we in this petty potshard Languish must, and fade and wither! 14-+ GATHERED BV THE WAY. "Oil, how rested we so bliissful On the turf's soft inother-bosoni, Where the sun, through tree tops peeping, Filled with gold our leaf and blossom! "Where the May moa*n's gentle Idsises Soft our slender twigs Avere bending. Where, as elves, escaped oiir flow'r dress, We our moonlit nights were spending! "Dew environed us and raindrops! Thou broughtst to the slinu^ us hither. We must die, but thou, too, perish, Ouel maid, before we wither!" Thus the}' sing, and o'er the sleeper Bow their heads with ireful glances; When their song has ceased, the former Weird, low whisper recommences. What mad voices! What wild lisping! How the virgin's cheeks are glo^'ing! How tihe ghosts her bed encircle. Through the room their breath is flowing! Xight departs, the phantoms vanish. Sunbeams in the chamber shower; — Lo, on the couch the maid is resting Cold and stiff, — a lifeless fltnver! Like her sisters' faded bodies. Her cheeks' color not quite spendeil. Lies she there,- — a withered blossom. Flowei's scent her life has ended ! GATHERED BY THE WAY. 145 THE LION'S KIDE. From "Pictures of the Desert." Desert's lUiier is the lion. Wlieu Lis mind a trip devises, From liis lair be wanders forth, to rest 'mong reeds of lofty sizes, Where gazelles, the tall giraffes, drink, near la- go'oiuis, hiis boKly ooAvers. Trembling o'er him in the breeze tlie jdane trees' rustling foliage towers. Ev'iiiugs, when fiiom Cape of IIo])e the motley signs ai^e disappea'ring; Wheal in negro kraals red fires their changing streaks are skyward rearing; Wlien the Znlu-Kafir, lone and aimless, roams through the karoo ; The antelopes in the bushes Imrmless sleep, and by the stream the gnu: The giiiaffe majestically (»'er (he desert's sandy spaces, That her tongue in the dim pind's refreshing flood she moisten, paces; Swiftly 'cross the hot and treeless Avaste she stirides; besides the miry Basin she kneels down, w'ith outstretched neck, and slakes her thirst, the fiery. Lo! at (mce, the grass moves, ami her back the roar- ing lion covers. What a steed! how^ caparisoned! Have you ever known horse lovers 14-6 GATHERED 1!Y THE WAY. (King 01" private) rich-cnibroidered trappings in tlieir stalls to hide, As yon rnnuer's gorgeous liide on wliicli tlie lord of beasts does ride? lut' the muscles of her neck the linn's greedy tooth is boring; Iligli above tlie giant horse the rider's golden mane is soaring. The giraffe jumps up in pain; lier hollow moan the night air rends. Lo! how she with camels' speed combines the pan- ther's elegance. See, how on the moonlit level her swift moving hoofs she's throwing, From their sockets her glazed eyes protrude; dark blood profusely's flowing From her wounded neck down o'er her spotted throat; her heart's sti'ong pounding Through the barren, voiceless desert, like a muf- fled drum, is sounding. As yon cloud which in the Arab's Avilds old Israel was leading, — Like a deseirt's ghost, a phantom iwile and airy, on- ward speeding In the form of a whirling trumpet o'er the waste's dry, sandy main, — Moves of dust a giant-column in their grim and ghastly train. Over them the culture flutters, croaking in his rav'nous manner; On their heels the hyena's marching, — she, the grave yards' cruel profaner; GATHERED BY THE WAV. 147 Moves tlie panther, who ou the headlaud's herds with murd'roiis tooth was feeding; Blood and sweat show them the path o'er which his prey their liing is leading. Filled with fear they see on a living throne their king and master sitting; See him, with his iron claws, his seat's brow^n-dot- ted cushion splitting. Restless the giraffe must bear him, Avith her powers slowly waning; 'Gainst such rider vain is kicking, rearing, vain her muscle-straining. Nigh the desert's maivge she tumbles down, in foam and dust to hide her, Dead but half, the steed is made a breakfast by his hungry rider. East of Madagascar, lo, the morning sun appears in glory! Thus it is the king of beasts, at night, inspects his territorv. 1+S GATHERIil) nV THE WAY. ADALISKIJT ^"<)^■ ("1IAMIS80. It is with a thrill of joj' that I approach this poet, also lielonging to the dass named — Young Germany. He was born in France, in 1781, and had to emigrate, swept away by that great hurricane, the Revolution of 1789. He settled at Berlin, and found a place as pageat Court, where Queen Louise, that most amiable and virtuous of all women (mother of Emperor William I.) held sway. This lady had a natural taste for art, and under her ej'es the young nobleman grew up to be a great bard. His first productions show his Komanisli extraction, but soon a change takes place. He possessed a natural faculty of mastering languages, and in his older days he spoke every dead and living tongue, except the Russian, which he shunned, because he hated the nation too much, on account of its barbarism, and considered it time lost to acquaint himself with the speech of such an idiotic people. If ever a man has succeeded in beinga follower of Christ, Chamisso is the one. We find in him a modesty unpar- alleled by any great character of ancient or modern times, a love and pity for the needy, and a read}' forgiveness for any injury done to his own person. His solicitude for his friends, as manifested in his collected letters, is something unknown in our frail race. Chamisso joined an expedition around the world in 1817, arranged by a Russian Duke Romanzoff, under Captain Kotzebue. He went as a scientist, paying his expenses out of his own pocket. This trip lasted about three years, during which time he visited the South Sea Islands and the Pacific coast. The trial to pass Behring Strait, as originally intended, had to be given up, on account of the leader's illness; but Chamisso was the first man who claimed that the sea was open toward th GATHERED BY THE WAY. 149 North pole, which proved to be perfectly true. He learned, on this voyage, to speak the tongue of the so-called "wild man," and afterwards wrote a grammar of the language spoken on the Sandwich Islands. He also translated songs of the aborigines on Tonga Islands. His curious story, "Peter Schlemihl," wherein he depicts a man of science giving up his worldly possessions to the poor, and wander- ing all over the world to hunt for plants ("hay," he calls it), is a picture of his own person. It has made the epithet "Schlemihl" proverbial in Germany. Chamisso died at Berlin in 1838, mourned by all who knew him and his works; that is to say, by all. The subjects of his poems are mostly selected for the pur- pose of thrilling the heart of the reader, but they are beau- tifully rendered into verse and show amasterhand. His lyrical poetry is full of intense feeling. The here following cycle of nine poems, "Woman's Love and Life," is univer- sally known, and forms a fair sample of his style. He ranges often as high as Goethe, but lacks the latter's dram- atic ability— a fault he shares with Heinrich Heine, his intimate friend. He tried his art also on a "Faust," and wrote a small piece by this name, which, though full of philosophical thought, does not equal Goethe's masterpiece, and is little known, but deserves to be, and will be found among these translations. loO GATHKRED UY THE WAY. W():max-s love and life. I. Since win-ess, yp restless istoi-m against thislearful bosom! Woe him whom ye to earnest strife a.ronsed! A wrinkletl foirehead is the thinker's lot; His worry's recompense is naught but Doubt. But no moire shall this seqient tooth of Doubt — A poison slow — gnaw at my sult'ring lieaj-t; Xo more aiigment the buniing of my bosom. I shall recovea- in the rays of Truth, And reach, with siwift resolve, the heaven-high goal. Ton which mine eyes so long were vainly gazing. (He unfolds a magical scroll lying before him on the table, and, pointing at it, continues :) If these no dreams are thou havst penciled here, 1 safely follow thy gigantic track. Oh, Seer, and, fearless walk thy beaten i>ath. If ghosts, thy mighty summons hearing, did Arise from siouibi-e Lethe's shoreless river, Tke Inferno's Spirits Avlll my call also Obey, and come to offer me assistance. ( Conjuration.) Ye, Who in subterranean darkness dwell, And now my striving soul encii'cle, Ghosts, — Ye hear vour master's earnest call, — appear! GATHERED BY THE WAY. Ifil Evil Spirit— (voice to the left) . Thy poAv'rful sumnioius I have lieard, and come Thou sou of earth, nrjw free of ea.rtL, a« we, and As M-e, imiuoi-ta] ! Speak, what is thy wish? Good Sp/r/t— (voice to the right). Faust! Faust! Faust. Thou, too? I did not call for Thee. Avaunt' I want to free myself of Thy ha,rd yoke- Therefore retire! Not, Thou, oh, feeble'spirit, My burning bosom's thirst to quench art able Noa- soothe the rolling waves that fill my breast My rising wings Thou paralyzest long. Begone ! I wish to soar 'moug stars, and fearless fly " Therefore, I Thee have left, and follow Him ^\ho is my teacher,— Truth me gives, a,nd Knowl- edge. Evil Sp/r/t— (impressively). Thou utterst words sublime aud superhuman With manly will, myself thou'st summoned hither Now SAveaT the prize I ask : Thv soul be mine And I shall yield to thee the Truth's rich treasure -And all a man is able thou shalt know. Good Spirit. Faust! Faust! To man, who was happy, Our Father permitted To taste. from the apples Wliich grew in His Eden; To man, wlio was happy. 1B2 GATiUiKEO IIY THE WAY. Our Lord and Creator Forbado of them oue. I>eft'itfnl, then, the Berpeut to him spoke : ' "Like God Himself, immortal thou wilt be If thou dare touch the fruit magnificent, The one to pluck thy Maker thee forbade. He is thj- Father not, — an envious Tyrant!" Fa.u«t! Faust! For him who is child-like The pleasures of a lifetime Aw numberless budding; He bideis where sweet roses Theii' fragranee him offer, Whea'e fruit him does beckon. That he might be able To walk over thorn-roads With footsteps light-winged. The Heaven has given him Two friendly coaupanions,-;— Gave Hope and Belief him, — To aid him when Fortune is changing. Faust! Faust! The Infinite to foi'bode, thy Father gave A soul thee, gave a heart, That thou to love, to supplicate, be able; And yet tO' argue with thy Lord thou dar'st, AVhile rays Paternal on thy temples shine. Thou dar'st to crave yofu fruit, the fruit of Death. Thou dar'st despise thy life's sweet peace and ti'easures. Thou dar'sit aspire to God's unapproachable Great- ness. Oh, fear the Avenger, Who Avill punish sin! GATHERED BY THE WAY. Jyo Faust. Did me a God of hate create for tortures Unspeakable, Who loves to see me suffer? Good Spirit. Did not the flow'rs of joy adorn thy pathway? F,-iust. I knwv no other happiness than Knowledge. Good Spirit. Does Hope not grow for snff'rers? Learn to live Without 't. Faust. In this sick breast Hope's withered long. Good Spirit. Then Vii'tue's wreath be wound arromnd thy locks. Faust. My Virtue's chaplet Doubt has also torn. Good Spirit. Thou wishest, striv'st, and thus th v. blossoms fade, Faust. I then but choose my lot, the lot of sorrow. Good Spirit. Thou art still free, oh, Faust. Act, a,ct believing! Faust. I an not free, nor wish I fi^ee to be. Good Spirit Oh, then the faulit will be the malefactor's! F/iiist. The sin amd fault T lay on niv Creator' Too high endowed H*^ has, ha,s pressed too low, me And gave me, in His hate, this striving soul 104- GATHEKED BY THE WAY. Good Spirit. And giave alvSio a Avill thee, to subdue it. The Avenger's rod will strike the sinner's brow! Faust. Thou Spii-it of Ivovonge, Thoii awful Being, Who noncomniitted sins dost retaliate, The bosom's meditations punishest. And wdndest aiTOund my soul Thy snakes infernal, But still 'n undaunted man's strong will not shakest, — I call Thee Liar! Xo, I am not free. A heavy destinj- miles o'er my life. It oaii'ies me along without resistence, And heavy falls on me its cruel weight. Evil Spirit — (willi subdued voice). The false One feigns to be thy saving Spirit. Faust. My saving Spirit Thou but feignst to be. A vaunt! I want Thee not. I Him do follow; He is my teacher, — Truth me gives, and Knowl- edge. Evil Spirit. Then sweai', oh, Faust, tliat I shall have my prize, .\nd Truth's ricih treaisure I to thee 8ha;ll yield. And all a man is able thou shalt knoiw; Tliyself tlie Judgment Staff break o'er thy soul. (The Staff of Judgment is thrown by magic before him. He is startled, but soon again composes himself.) Faust. Thou dauntless Will, — a sudden resolution's Offspring, — bring forth the deed at once! GATHERED BY THE WAY. ] 65 Good Spirit. Such deeds As in the timei to come pi-odiice bad fruit Be only dome aigaiaist thine injcLinatiou. As yet thy heart is masiter o'ei- thy will, Faust ! Evil Spirit.— {with subdued voice and slovvl}-.) And I shall yield to thee the Truth's rich treasure, And all a m,an is able thou shalt know. ' Faust. My Will is lord yet! Think, resolve, and act. Good Spirit. And didst thou dare to think the thought, o'h Faust! The great, the awful thoug'ht of the "Hei-eafter?" Faust. I thought ,of it; but nnoments only do Belong to man, and in the presient lives he. Therefore, he often buys, with future's values, The transiient joys ajid pleasures of the hour. May be the Hereafter's ailso but a dream. Good Spirit. And if yoai dream the Truth does indicate? Faast. The horrible di-eam may tlieu itself develop. Thou whetst Thyself the pois'nous tooth of Doubt That la^ierates my breast. No Truth can break A heart that beats for Truth alone, Thou Spirit! But fearful only are the suff'rings I feel mow. Them I must end! Of steel this bosom's made, And every woe's sharp arrow ou't rebounds That is not aimed at me by Doubt's strong arm. I shall as a man await Eternal "S^'eugeauce, With fearless eye look istraight into Her face. I curse Thee, curse the Lord, and break this Staff Of Judgment, that my soul forever binds. 166 GA'rHi;Ki-;i) uy the way. Good Spirit. Woe him avIio's boni of a woman! Woe him! Xoav broken man's pride is! Hni'led doAvn he is headlong. His fall Avill I'e-echo Wlien, dashed into fragments, he sinks. "I'lie son of the mortal O'er meadows may wander; His ej-es be delighted By flow'rs of the vale ! He dare not to raise them To lieights that are blinding, — To the Sun's fieiy beam. From tiliie dre-ss of the verdure, Displayed over valleys. The color returns t' him A beautiful ray; He wshoiild be contented With soft-shining tints, And ougii/t not to turn them, His heai't's eager wishes. To the sky's golden light. Attempts he to climb uj) The snow-covered mountains. To be neai' th,e lire-globe, — The hot-biirning sun, — Not neiarei' he'll be it. His eyes are but blinded. His feet only stagger, He soon's overcome. From the summit, the dizzy, Hurled down he i« headlong. His fall does re-echo When, dashed into fragnunits, he sinks. GATHERED BY THE WAY. 167 Woe liiim, the son of a mortal! Woe, hiui! Xoav broken liis pride is. To love's sweet embraces Forever a stranger, — He tlees, and is falling. Hnrled down lie is headlong; The deep does re-echo . When, daislied into fragments, he sinks. Fai/st— (breaking tlie Staff). The Staff I've broken! Good Spirit. It is broken! ' Evil Spirit. Broken ! (A long pause.) 'Kow? Faust. Evil Spirit. I look at thee with scorn, thon fragile toy, at The greedy wishes of thine o'erprond heart. I laugh at thee, oh, fool, whom I despise, And pay the prize for which tlion'st pledged thy sonl ! The human wisdom's limit is tlie Doubt, Wliich only blind belief can overstep. I hereby cha.rge thee t'err on a storm-to«s?d sea, AYithout an anchor and a sail, wliere neither 1G8 GATHKRKI) I)V THE WAV A sliore nor veiniant ilse to thee appears; Where tliou, without a hoi>e, shalt strive and stay Until befoire thine awestruck eyes the gate Of Death, thy mind foreboded has, is opened; Where fearful toi'tures, hori'ible to think of. On thee will seize, For unto me the future Of thine immortal self belongs. It's thus I pay the prize for which thou'st pledged thy soul! The flowei' of Belief for thee was budding. Thon ppondly ti'eadst on it; thou wantedst Truth. XoAv thou shalt hear what I thee, threat'ning, teach. Out of thy sages' contradictious shone a ray Thee telling wliat thy heart was loug aware of: The Doubt is humaji wisdom's limit. Naught Can he who's formed of dust beyond it know, — Not realize what's liglit who blind is born. As is the language, as the sound of words, A medium only, and a sign of tliought, Thus is tlie impress on thy senses, "Thought" Itself, but language, — an unmeaning sign Of real'ty, from thee foi'ever hidden. Thou canst but think by it, — the medium, "Lan- guage." Canst Nature only see by means of "Senses." Canst only know her by the law of "Rea.son." And hadst thou thousand senses, stampedst thou Thy thought, thou scant-endowed mortal, more deep Into the more on thee impressing All, Thou shouldst, still tied to Earth by bodily ties, Though self a unit, naught but shadows see Of thine own soul, and naught shouldst know that's real. GATHERED BY THE WAY. 1'39 T© strive with vigor is tlie lot of man; To recognize, alone tlie Spirits' province. Not them embraces the eternal wall That thee from her, the longed-for TYuth, debars. Thy death this wall removes, and thie Avenger For thee is waiting in a place where there is No more of striving, is no moire aspiring; Where tliou wilt be i-'ewarded for past acts. I must repeat thine own words' empty sounds, — A picture draw of thine own shadowy thoughts. Thj sages' idle dreams I must re-echo — A Spirit, I — to be thee, mortal, nearer. No thoughts, no words, nor dreams of earth-born beings Can know a semblance of the Eternal-Hidden; I-Sut thou for IVuth, for Truth, has pledged thy so'ul, And thou shalt know what man to know is able. The human wisdom's limit, lo, is Doubt, — The terrible, th' avenging Serpent of thy life. — Despair, thou low-bom worm of clay, whom I Into lower dust rehurl, and tread upon! Thou hast no pow'r to raise you hiding veil; For thee the flow'r of life is no more blowing; And unto me thou'st given up thy future. Thus, vengeful, yield I thee the Truth's rich treas- ure. Pay thee the prize Avhich, for thy pledge, I prom- ised. Faust — (just intending to throw himself down on the side where the Evil Spirit spoke, rises quickly again). Not shalt behold Thou me before Thee prostrate, Tliou Herald of the fearful cunse pronounced, That flashes 'r'ound my head. Nor will I bow 170 GATHERED BY THE WAY. Before The otliea' One! "Destruction" is The name of Him I call. Both ye are pow'ness To rob me of tbe wealth my past acquired. Oh, conlid yoiw cm'se I but return t' ye tenfold, Could see ye wiTtlie in woes that never cease, In humian agonies ye s>ee despair, And with a scornful laugh make fun of ye! A curse on me, that I so feeble am, — That but the lips' low trembling voice, wliose sounds In th' air are drowned, I have to answer with! Thou cherished stimulatressof mine idle dreams, — Oh, Truth ! I f ollors'ed have Tby mi^ty form ; I followed tireless Tbee on trackless roads; I sacrificed for Thee each ray of hope. A shipwrecked man I stamd here, om steep rock; Around me rolls a dark and shoreless sea, And o'ei' ray foreliead threatening clouds are gath- ered ; And never, never, shall I her behold For whom I've given up my sweetest tJ'easure! Evil Spirit — ( si o wly ) . Thy death, removes this wall, and the Avenger For thee is waiting in a place where tliere is No more of striving, is no more aspiiing; Where thou Avilt be rewarded for paist acts. Faust. My death removes the wall ! The Avenger waits in Yon land! Medusa of my life, wherever Mine eye is turned, I see thj^ dreadful stare! Perdition and Eternity, ye're welcome, If what I suffea- only be not "Doubt." GATHERED BY THE WAY. 171 Keep nsow Thy promise, and tear clown Thy wall, TJion liid Avenger. Be my only Savior! I long for Thee, and follow Thee with courage. (As he turns toward the Evil Spirit, a dagger is thrown by magic into his hand. He presses it against his breast, and falls.) Perdition, Thon, .Eternal, in Thy lap! Destruction it may be; may be it's Knowledge; Su roly, Oertai nty ! (Faust expires. The scene is darkening; the lamp ex- tinguishes; and the curtain drops.) 172 GATHERED ItV THE WAY. LA HATE. -A Trial In French. hatez vous, sans peur, Votre partie de prendre; Car dejji va descendre La vie de son hauteur. Jeunesse se precipite, Et vous verrez la suivre ■ L'amour, — devrez survivre De votre coeur le guide. Ouoi ? Vous negligez Fortune? Vous voulez 'tendre Jusqu'a I'age,— pretendre Plutot la corriger? La fleur, quand elle encore Est jeune, elle doit fleurir; Printemps bientot va perir, — Et I'hiver, c'est la morti THE OPEN WINDOW. By Henry W. Longfellow. (Translntion.) Dort oben am Hiigel die Villa, Schaut still und verlassen zumal; Unter'm Baum', aufdem Kiesweg, nurspielt noch Mit dem Schatten der Sonnenstrahl. Die Fenster im obersten Zimnier Steh'n often; sie zeigen es leer; Und die frischen Kindergesichtchen, Die seb' ich darin audi nicht mebr. GATHERED BV THE WAY. 173 Vor der Thiir steht wedelnd der Hausliund, — Ein Pudel mit glanzendem Haar; Er sucht nach deii jungen Gespielen, Doch heute vermisst er das Paar. Er findet sie nicht in der Halle, Anch nicht im Schatten des Baum's; Ach, diist're Trauer und Stille Erftillt jeden Winkel des Raum's. Der Vogel pfeift ruhig sein Liedchen, Wie sonst, auf dem scli-wankenden Zweig; Die Stirnnie aber deir Kinder Tont nur nocli im himnilischen Reicli. Und er, der neben mir wandelt, Der Knabe verstelit es noch nicht, Weshalb meine zitternde Hand sich So eng nm die seinige flicht. HERRN A. STEINLEIN. Dem alten Musenkinde in La Crosse als Empfangsbescheinifrung Die Geisteskinder, die Du mir gesandt. Hast, Alter, Du, bescheidentlich genannt: "A. Steinlein's Bunte BKithen, zweiter Band." Und so empfing sie dankbar meine Hand. Doch sieh', die Bliithen sind nnr schon im Mai, Und schon im Sommer sind sie welkes Heu; Plugs zieht an tins ihr Duft und Glanz vorbei Und wird ein eitel Spiel des Wind's — wird Spreu. Die schonen Verse die Dein Geist gebar, — Ein Werk des jungen Kopf s mit weissem Haar,- Sie iiberdauern manches, manches Jahr, Wenn langst wir ruhen auf der Todtenbahr'. 174 GATHKKEO UV THE WAV. Sag', Alter, an, wo sprudelt denn die Quelle, Aus der das Schone stromt so sonnenhelle, Wohin ein frommer, musendienender Geselle Entging' des Schicksals sturmgepeitschter Welle? Oder soil ein jiingerer Apollokneclit Entsagen ganz und gar dem schonen Recht Entstammt zu diinken sich dem Gottgeschlecht, — Liest Verse er, so lebenswahr und echt ? [August 10, 1890, St. Paul.] EIN TRIBUT Fur A. Stelnlein, von La Crosse. Dir kehre mit dem neuen Jahrc, — Apollo's Sohn mit weissem Haare, — Ein Leben voller Ruhe ein. Dir sei ein hokles Loos beschieden, Denn eines Kindes siissen Fricden Birgst Du in Deines Herzens Schrein. Ein Held bist Du ! An Deiner Stirne, Wie an der Andes' eis'ger Firne, Zerschellt der Leidenschaften Macht. So stehst Du da und ragst zum Himmel, — Ein Leuchtthurm, wie nach Sturmsgetiimmel Er freundlich uns vom Ufer lacht. Und wjihrend uns, die AUtagsleute, Yerfolgt der Wiinsche gier'ge Meute, Thronst, Alter, Du auf dem Parnass; Und schaust still lachelnd auf uns nieder, Und spinnst und singst vielstimm'ge Lieder, Und schliirfst Dir Frohsinn aus dem Glas. [January 1, 1891.]