or Hapsburg regalia, but in the softest sleep a little red-colored infant! Beside it lay a roll of gold, the exact amount of which was never publicly known; also a baptismal certificate, wherein, unfortunately, nothing but 5 the name was decipherable. To wonder and conjecture were unavailing then and thenceforth. Nowhere in Entepfuhl did tidings transpire of any such figure as the stranger. Meanwhile, for Andreas and his wife, the grand practical problem was 10 what to do with this little sleeping infant! Amid amazements and curiosities which had to die away without satisfying, they resolved, as in such circumstances charitable, prudent people needs must, on nursing it, if possible, into manhood. 15 Young Diogenes, or rather young Gneschen, for by such diminutive had they in their fondness named him, traveled forward by quick but easy stages. I have heard him noted as a still infant, that kept his mind much to himself; above all, that he seldom cried. He 20 already felt that time was precious; that he had other work cut out for him than whimpering. Most graceful is the following little picture: "On fine evenings I was wont to carry forth my supper, bread crumbs boiled in milk, and eat it out of doors 25 On the coping of the orchard wall, which I could reach by climbing, or still more easily if Father Andreas would set up the pruning ladder, my porringer was placed; there many a sunset have I, looking at the western mountains, consumed my evening meal. "Those hues of gold and azure, that hush of the world's expectation as day died, were still a Hebrew speech for me; nevertheless I was looking at the fair, illuminated letters, and had an eye for their gilding." With the little one's friendship for cattle and poul- 5 try we shall not much intermeddle. It may be that hereby he acquired a certain deeper sympathy with animated nature. He says again: "Impressive enough was it to hear in early morning the swineherd's horn, and know that so many hungry quadrupeds were, on all 10 sides, starting in hot haste to join him for breakfast on the heath. Or to see them at eventide, all marching in again with short squeak, almost in military order; and each trotting off in succession to the right or left, through its own lane, to its own dwelling." 15 Thus encircled by mystery, waited on by the four seasons, with their changing contributions, for even grim winter brought its skating matches, its snowstorms and Christmas carols, did the child sit and learn. These things were the alphabet whereby in 20 after time he was to syllable and partly read the grand volume of the world; what matters it whether such alphabet be in large gilt letters or in small ungilt ones, so you have an eye to read it? For Gneschen, eager to learn, the very act of look- 25 ing thereon was a blessedness that gilded all; his existence was a bright, soft element of joy, out of which wonder after wonder bodied itself forth to teach by charming. From "Sartor Resartus." A SCENE FROM WILLIAM TELL. SHERIDAN KNOWLES. SCENE I. [WILLIAM TELL, ALBERT HIS SON, AND GESLER.] Gesler. What is thy name? Tell. My name? It matters not to keep it from thee now: Ges. What! he so famed 'bove all his countrymen For guiding o'er the stormy lake the boat? And such a master of his bow, 't is said His arrows never miss!. Exquisite vengeance! Indeed - I'll take Mark! I'll spare thy life Thy boy's too!- both of you are free on one Ges. I would see you make A trial of your skill with that same bow You shoot so well with. Tell. Name the trial you Would have me make. Ges. You look upon your boy As though instinctively you guessed it. Tell. Look upon my boy! What mean you? Look upon My boy as though I guessed it! You'd have me make! Guessed the trial Guessed it Instinctively! you do not mean — no-no— My skill upon my child!— Impossible! Ges. I would see Thee hit an apple at the distance of A hundred paces. Tell. Is my boy to hold it? Ges. Tell. core! No. No!- I'll send the arrow through the Ges. It is to rest upon his head. Tell. Great Heaven, you hear him! Ges. Thou dost hear the choice I give― Or death to both of you; not otherwise Alb. He does. [Gesler signs to his officers, who pro Tell all the time uncon ceed to take off Tell's chains. scious what they do.] Tell. With his own hand! Murder his child with his own hand This hand! The hand I've led him, when an infant, by! 'T is beyond horror- 't is most horrible. Amazement! [His chains fall off.] What's that you've done to me. Villains! put on my chains again. My hands Are free from blood, and have no gust for it, That they should drink my child's! Here! here! I'll not Murder my boy for Gesler. The arrow through thy brain- or, missing that, To save me! You'll be sure to hit the apple Will you not save me, father? Tell. Lead me forth · I'll make the trial! |