names of our parents and sponsors; and so we need not consider ourselves as editions without name or place.

once.

Yes, but the beginning, if there were only no beginning, for at the beginning all thought and memory ceases at And when we thus look into childhood, and back from childhood into the infinite past, it is as if this mysterious beginning receded more and more, and the mind goes back in vain, and yet can never get away, just as a child tries to find the place where the blue sky touches the earth, and runs and runs, and the sky keeps running before him, and still always rests upon the earth, but the child is tired and never gets up with it.

here,

But now as we were once there there as after all we did once begin,- what then do we know about it? Yes, memory shapes itself like a poodle emerging from the water which half blinds him, and makes him look very oddly.

But yet I think I can remember still the first time that I saw the stars. I may have often seen them before, but one evening it seems to me as if it were cold, although I was lying in my mother's lap, and I trembled, and was either chilled or frightened, in short, something was passing within me which made my little self more than commonly observant of myself. Then my mother pointed out to me the shining stars, and I admired them, and thought they had made my mother look pretty. And then I felt warm again, and fell asleep pleasantly.

And I remember too how I was once lying on the grass, and everything around was shaking and nodding, humming and buzzing. And then came a whole swarm of little manyfooted winged beings, who placed themselves on my forehead and eyes, and bade me good morning. Then my eyes ached, and I called out to my mother, and she said, "Poor child, how the mosquitos have stung him!" Then I could not open my eyes, and look any more at the blue sky. But my mother had a bunch of fresh violets in her hand, and then it

seemed to me as if a deep blue, fresh, aromatic fragrance went through my head, and even now when I see the first violets I recollect this, and it seems to me as if I must shut my eyes in order that the old dark-blue sky of that day may again arise in my soul.

Yes, and I remember also how a new world again opened upon me, and one which was more beautiful than the starry firmament and the violet fragrance. It was on an Easter morning. My mother awaked me early, and our old church was before my window. It was not beautiful, but it had, nevertheless, a high roof and a high tower, and on the tower a golden cross, and it looked also much older and more gray than the other houses. Once I wanted to know who lived in it, and looked in through the iron grating of the door. But it was quite empty within, and cold and cheerless, not a soul in the whole house, and after that I always shuddered when I went by the door. Now, on this Easter morning, when there had been an early rain, and afterwards the sun had risen in full splendor, and then shone the old church with the gray slate roof, and the high windows, and the tower with the golden cross in quite wonderful brilliancy. All at once the light which streamed through the high windows began to live and move. But that was much too bright to permit one to see within; and as I shut my eyes, the light came as it were into my mind, and everything within seemed to beam light and breathe fragrance, to sing and resound. Then it seemed as if a new life were beginning within me, as if I should become another man; — and when I asked my mother what it was, she said it was an Easter hymn they were singing in the church. What pure, sacred song it was that penetrated my soul at that time, I have never been able to find out. It must surely have been an old church melody, such as sometimes burst upon the earnest soul of our Luther. I have never heard it since. But even now when I listen to an adagio of Beethoven, or a psalm from Marcello, or a chorus of Handel, or sometimes

when I hear in the Scotch Highlands or in the Tyrol a simple song, it seems to me as if the high church windows were shining again, and organ-tones passed into the wind, and a new world were opening itself, – more beautiful than the starry heavens and the violet fragrance.

This is what I remember from my earliest childhood, and then comes between the dear face of my mother, as well as the mild, serious glance of my father, and gardens, and vineyard, and green, soft turf, and an old, venerable book of prints, and that is all I can make out from the first faded

leaves of memory.

After that it becomes clearer and plainer. Names and forms are deciphered. Not only father and mother, but brothers and sisters, and friends and teachers, and a host of strange people. Ah yes! of strange people,—so many of these are written in the memory!

SECOND RECOLLECTION.

Not far from our house, and opposite to the old church with the golden cross, there stood a large building, even larger than the church, and with many towers. These towers looked gray and old, but they had no golden cross; stone eagles were seated on their summits, and a large blue and white flag fluttered from the highest tower over the high entrance-door, which was ascended by steps, and where on both sides two soldiers on horseback kept guard. The house had a great many windows, and behind the windows one could see red-silk curtains with golden tassels, and in the court-yard the old linden-trees stood around strewing the turf with their white, fragrant blossoms, and overshadowing the gray walls with their verdant foliage. Often had I gazed on all this, and in the evening, when the lindens gave out their fragrance, and the windows were lighted, I saw many figures like shadows gliding hither and thither, and music was heard from above, and carriages drove up, from which men and women alighted and hastened up the steps. They

all looked so good and beautiful, - and the men had stars on their breasts, and the women had fresh flowers in their hair, and I often thought to myself, Why dost not thou go in also?

At last one day my father took me by the hand and said: "We will go up to the castle. Thou must behave very gently, if the Princess speaks to thee, and must kiss her hand."

I was about six years old, and was greatly delighted, as one can only be at six years. I had already had so many silent thoughts about the shadows which I had seen passing before the lighted windows of evenings, and had heard so many good things said of the Prince and Princess, how gracious they were, and how they helped and comforted the poor and the sick, and how they were chosen by the grace of God to protect the good and to punish the bad. I had for a long time pictured to myself how everything must go on in the castle, and the Prince and the Princess were already old acquaintances in imagination, whom I knew as familiarly as my nut-crackers and my tin soldiers.

My heart beat when I was going up the high steps with my father, and whilst he was still telling me that I must call the Princess "Your Highness," and the Prince "Your Excellency," the doors flew open, and I saw before me a tall figure with brilliant, penetrating eyes. She was coming towards me and holding out her hand. There was an expression in her face, which I had long known, and a

Seeing all this, I

familiar smile passed over her features. could restrain myself no longer; and while my father was still standing, and bowing very low, I could not tell why, my heart sprang to my lips, and I ran up to the beautiful lady, fell on her neck, and kissed her as if she had been my mother. The beautiful tall lady did not seem displeased; she smiled and stroked my hair. But my father seized my hand, and drew me away, saying I was very naughty, and he would never bring me here again. This perplexed me

greatly; the blood rushed to my cheeks, for I felt that my father was unjust to me. And I looked at the Princess, expecting that she would defend me; but there was an expression of mild seriousness in her face. And then I looked round to the ladies and gentlemen who were in the room, thinking that they would stand by me. But when I looked,

Then the tears came

I saw that they were all laughing. into my eyes, and I ran out to the door, down the steps, passed the linden-trees in the court-yard, and ran homewards till I got to my mother, when I threw myself into her arms, sobbing and crying.

"And what has happened to thee?" said she.

"Ah, mother!" cried I, "I was near the Princess; and she was a beautiful and kind lady, just like thee, my dear mother, and so I fell upon her neck and kissed her."

"Ah," said my mother, "but thou shouldst not have done that, for they are strangers and high dignitaries."

"And what then are strangers?" said I. "May I not love everybody who looks upon me with kind, loving eyes?"

"Thou mayst love them, my son," answered the mother; "but thou must not show it."

"And is it then anything wrong," I asked, "that I love people? And why then should I not show it?"

"Well, thou art quite right," said she; "but thou must do as thy father tells thee; and when thou art older, thou wilt understand why thou must not embrace all the beautiful ladies who look at thee with kind, friendly eyes."

That was a dark day. My father came home, and insisted on it that I had behaved ill. In the evening my mother put me to bed, and I said my prayers; but I could not sleep, and I kept thinking what these strangers could be, whom one dared not love.

Alas the poor human heart! thus were thy leaves torn off even in the spring, and the feathers pulled out of thy wings! When the spring dawn of life opens the folded-up bud of thy