God sends thee help in thy great distress, thou dost nothing but abuse thy neighbors, whom he has also helped."

Lenk. "I shall have to work for the money, and not get it for nothing."

Wife. "Till now, thou hadst no work to get any by."

Lenk. "But then I had no labor."

Wife. "And thy children no bread."

"What had I more than you?" said the lazy lubber. His wife was silent, and wept bitter tears.

CHAPTER XXII.-REMORSE FOR PERJURY CAN NOT BE ALLAYED BY CRAFTY ARTS. FROM Lenk the bailiff went to Kriecher, and as he was going, came unexpectedly upon Hans Wust.

If he had seen him in time, he would have slipped out of the way; for, since Rudi's affair, the bailiff and Wust never met without feelings of self-reproach; but the bailiff met him unawares, at the corner of the side street, near the lower well.

"Art thou there, Wust?" said the bailiff.

"Yes, bailiff," answered Wust.

Bailiff. "Why dost thou never come near me? Hast thou forgotten the money I lent thee?"

Wust. "I have no money at present, and when I look back, I am afraid I have paid too dearly for your money already."

Bailiff. “Thou didst nɔt talk in this way, Wust, when I gave it thee. It is serving a man ungraciously."

Wust. "Serving a man is one thing-but, serving a man so that one can never have another comfortable hour on God's earth, is another."

Bailiff. "Talk not so, Wust! Thou didst not swear any thing but what was true."

Wust. "So you always say. But I can not but feel in my heart that I swore falsely."

Bailiff. "That is not true, Wust! On my soul, it is not true. Thou didst but swear to what was read to thee, and it was very carefully worded. I read it to thee more than a hundred times, and it appeared to thee in the same light as it did to me, and thou saidst always 'Yes; I can swear to that!' Was it not so, Wust? And why art thou now fretting about it? But it is only on account of thy debt. Thou wouldst have me wait longer."

Wust. "No, bailiff; you are mistaken. If I had the money, I would pay it down this moment, that I might never see your face again; for my heart smites me whenever I look at you."

"Thou art a fool!" said the bailiff; but his own heart smote him also. Wust. "I saw it as you do, for a long time; for it did not come to me at first, that the squire spoke as if he saw it in quite a different light."

Bailiff. "Thou hast nothing to do with what the squire said about it. Thou didst but swear to the paper that was read to thee."

Wust. "Yes; but he passed judgment according to what he had understood from it."

Bailiff. "If the squire was a fool, let him look after it. What is that to thee? He had the paper in his hand; and if it did not seem clear to him, he should have had it written differently."

Wust. "I know you can always out-talk me; but that does not comfort my

conscience. And at church, on a sacrament day, I am in such a horrible state, that I could sink into the earth! O bailiff, would that I had never owed you any thing! Would that I had never known you, or that I had died the day before I was forsworn!"

Bailiff "For God's sake, Wust, do rot fret in this way. It is folly. Think of all the circumstances. We went about it very carefully. In thy presence I asked the pastor's assistant, point-blank: Will Wust have sworn to any thing but what is in the paper, supposing he does not understand it right? Dost thou not remember his answer?"

Wust. "Yes; but still

Bailiff "Nay, he said these very words;-Wust will not have sworn to a hair more than is in the paper. Were not these his words?"

Wust. "Yes; but then is it so, because he said it?"
Bailiff. "Is it so? What, art thou not satisfied?"

Wust. "No, bailiff? I will speak out for once. The late pastor's assistant owed you money, as well as myself; and you know what a fellow he was, and how disorderly. It is little comfort to me what such a reckless creature said." Bailif "His way of life was nothing to thee. He understood the right doctrine, and that thou knowest."

Wust. "Nay, I know it not. But I know he was good for nothing."
Bailiff. "But what did that signify to thee?"

Wust. "Why, for my part, if I know a man has been very wicked and bad in one point, I dare not trust to his goodness in any other. Therefore I am afraid that this worthless man deceived me, and then what is to become of me?"

Bailiff. "Let these thoughts go, Wust! Thou hast sworn to nothing but what was true."

Wust. "I did so, for a long time; but it's over now. I can not cheat myself any longer. Poor Rudi! Wherever I go or stand, I see him before me. Poor Rudi! how his misery, and hunger, and want, must rise up to God against me! O, and his children, they are such sickly, starved, ricketty things; and as yellow as gipsies. They were fine, stout, healthy children; and my

the meadow from them,"

Bailiff. "I had a right to it. It was as I told thee. And now, Ru

work at the building of the church, and may come round again."

Wust. "What good can that do me? If I had not sworn, it would be all the same to me, whether Rudi were rich or a beggar."

Bailiff. "Do not let it disturb thee so! I had a right to it."

Wust.

"Not disturb me? If I had broken into his house and stolen all his goods, it would trouble me less. O bailiff, bailiff! that I should have acted thus! It is now near Easter again. I wish I were buried a thousand feet deep in the earth!"

Bailiff. "For heaven's sake, Wust, do not go on in this way in the open street, before all the people. If any body should hear thee! It is thine own stupidity that plagues thee. All that thou hast sworn to was true."

Wust. "Stupidity here, stupidity there! If I had not sworn, Rudi would still have had his meadow."

Bailiff. "But thou didst not say it was not his, or that it was mine. What in the devil's name is it to thee who has the meadow?"

Wust. "It is nothing to me who has the meadow, but it is that I have sworn falsely."

Bailiff. "I tell thee it is not true that thou hast sworn falsely. That which thou didst swear to, was true."

Wust. "But it was a deceit! I did not tell the squire how I understood the writing; and he understood it differently. Say what you will, I know, I feel it in myself, that I was a Judas, and a betrayer; and that my oath was a false one, words or no words."

Bailiff. "I am sorry for thee, Wust, that thou art so stupid; but thou art ill; thou lookest like one risen from the grave; and when a man is not well he sees things so differently. Compose thyself, Wust. Come home with me, and let us drink a glass of wine together."

Wust. "I can not, bailiff. Nothing upon earth can cheer me now."

Bailiff. "Comfort thyself, Wust. Drive it out of thy head, and forget it till thou art well again. Thou wilt then perceive that I was in the right, and I will tear thy note in pieces. Perhaps it will be a relief to thee."

Wust. "No bailiff! keep the note. If I must eat my own flesh for hunger, I will pay you that debt. I will not have the price of blood upon my soul. If you have betrayed me, if the pastor's assistant has deceived me, perhaps God will forgive me. I did not mean it to turn out so."

Bailiff. "Here is thy note, Wust. See, I destroy it before thy eyes; and I take it on my own responsibility that I was in the right; and now be comforted." Wust. "Take what you will upon yourself, bailiff, I will pay you my debt. The day after to-morrow I will sell my Sunday coat, and pay you."

Bailiff. "Think better of it. Thou deceivest thyself, upon my life. But I must go away now."

Wust. "It is a mercy that you are going. If you were to stay much longer, I should go mad before your eyes."

Bailiff "Quiet thyself, for heaven's sake, Wust." They then separated.

But the bailiff, when he was alone, could not help saying to himself, with a sigh: "I am sorry he met me just now. I have had enough before to-day, without this." He soon, however, hardened himself again, and said: "I am sorry for the poor wretch; he is so troubled! but he is in the wrong. It is nothing to him how the judge understood it. The devil might take the oaths, if the exact meaning of them were to be looked after so sharply. I know that other people, and those who should understand the thing best, take oaths after their own way of interpreting them, and are undisturbed, where a poor wretch, who thinks like Wust, would say he saw as clear as day that it was a deceit. But I wish these thoughts were out of my head, they make me uncomfortable! I will go back and drink a glass of wine." He did so, and then went to Felix Kriecher.

CHAPTER XXIII.—A HYPOCRITE, AND A SUFFERING WOMAN.

FELIX KRIECHER was a man who always had the air of enduring the greatest afflictions with the patience of a martyr. To the barber, the bailiff, and every stranger, he bowed as low as to the pastor; and he went to all the weekly prayers at church, and to all the Sunday evening singing. Sometimes he got, by this means, a glass of wine; and occasionally, when he was very late, and managed well, had an invitation to supper. He took great pains to be in favor with all the pietists of the village, but could not quite succeed; for he was very careful not to offend the other party on their account, and this does not suit fanatics. They will not let their disciples be well with both sides; and thus, notwithstanding his appearance of humility, and all the hypocritical arts he practiced

and even his spiritual pride, which generally suits fanatics, he was not admitted into their set.

With all these exterior and acknowledged qualities, he had some others; and though these were only for secret use in his domestic life, I must now speak of them.

To his wife and children he was a devil. In the most extreme poverty he still insisted upon having something dainty to eat; and if he did not get it, all went wrong-the children were not properly combed and washed; and if he could find nothing else to blame, and one of his little children of four years old stared at him, he would beat it, to teach it proper respect to him.

"Thou art a fool!" said his wife to him one day when this had occurred. But, though she was quite right, and had told him nothing but the simple truth, he kicked her for it; and as she was running away from him, she fell by the door, and made two deep wounds in her head. This frightened the man; for he thought, wisely enough, that a broken head might tell tales.

And as all hypocrites, when they are alarmed, crouch, and fawn, and humble themselves, so did Kriecher to his wife. He coaxed her; and begged and entreated, for God's sake, not that she would forgive him, but that she would promise to tell nobody of it. She did so, and patiently endured the pain of a very bad wound, and told the barber and the other neighbors that she had fallen; but many of them did not believe her. Poor woman! she might have known beforehand that no hypocrite was ever grateful, or kept his word, and should not have trusted him. But what do I say? Alas! she knew all this; but she thought of her children, and knew that God only could change his heart, and that it was of no use to be talking about it. She is an excellent woman, and it is grievous to think how unhappy he makes her, and what she suffers daily by his means. She was silent, but prayed to God; and thanked him for the afflictions with which he tried her.

O eternity!-when thou revealest the ways of God, and the blessedness of those to whom he teaches steadfastness, courage, and patience, by suffering, want, and sorrow-O eternity! how wilt thou exalt those tried ones who have been so lowly here.

Kriecher had forgotten the wounds, almost before they were healed, and went on as usual. He tormented and harassed his wife, without cause or excuse, every day, and embittered her life. A quarter of an hour before the bailiff came, the cat had overturned the lamp, and wasted a drop or two of oil. "Thou stupid creature, thou shouldst have taken better care," said he to his wife, with his accustomed fury; "thou mayst now sit in the dark, and light the fire with cow-dung, thou horned beast!" His wife said not a word, but the tears streamed down her cheeks, and the children cried in the corners with their mother.

At this moment the bailiff knocked. "Hush! for heaven's sake, be quiet! What is to be done? The bailiff is at the door," said Kriecher, and, hastily wiping off the children's tears with his handkerchief, he threatened to cut them in pieces, if he heard another whimper; then opened the door to the bailiff, bowed, and said: "What are your commands, Mr. Bailiff?" The bailiff told him his errrand, briefly.

But Kriecher, who was listening at the door, and heard no more crying, answered: "Come into the room, Mr. Bailiff, and I will tell my dear wife what a piece of good fortune has befallen us." The bailiff went into the room, and

Kriecher said to his wife: "The bailiff has just brought me the good news that I am to be one of the day-laborers at the building of the church; and a great favor it is, for which I can not be sufficiently thankful."

The wife answered, "Thank God!" and a sigh escaped from her.

Bailiff. "Is something the matter with thy wife?"

"She is not very well to-day, Mr. Bailiff," said Kriecher, throwing an angry, threatening look toward his wife.

Kriecher. "May I beg you, Mr. Bailiff, to be so good as to thank the squire, in my name, for this favor."

Kriech. "You are right, Mr. Bailiff. It was a great liberty in me to ask you to do it. I will go to-morrow to the hall. It is my duty to do so."

Bailiff. "All the others are going on Monday morning, and I think thou hadst better go with them."

Kriech. "Of course, yes, certainly, Mr. Bailiff. I did not know they were going."

Bailiff. "Good-bye, Kriecher."

Kriech. "I am greatly indebted to you, Mr. Bailiff.

Bailiff. "Thou hast nothing to thank me for." And he went away, saying to himself, "I am much mistaken, if this fellow is not one of the devil's own. Perhaps he is the kind of man to suit me with the mason-but who dare trust a hypocrite? I would rather have Shaben Michel. He is a downright rogue."

CHAPTER XXIV.-AN HONEST, JOYFUL, THANKFUL HEART.

FROM Kriecher the bailiff went to young Abi, who jumped for joy when he heard the good news; and sprang up like a young heifer when it is turned out in spring. "I will go and tell my wife, that she may rejoice with me. No! I will wait till to-morrow. To-morrow it will be eight years since we were married. It was St. Joseph's day. I remember it, as if it were yesterday. We have had many a hard hour since; but many a happy one, too. God be thanked for all. To-morrow, as soon as she wakes, I will tell her. I wish the time were come! I can see just how she will laugh and cry over it; and how she will press her children and me to her heart for joy. O that to-morrow were come! I will kill the cock, and boil it in the broth, without her knowing any thing about it. She would enjoy it then, though she would be sorry to have it killed. No, no! it will be no sin to kill it for such a joyful occasion. I will venture it. I will stay at home all day and make merry with her and the children. No, I will go with her to church and to the sacrament. We will rejoice and be glad; and thank God for all his goodness."

Thus did young Abi talk to himself, in the joy of his heart, at the good news the bailiff had brought him. He could scarcely, in his eagerness, wait till the morrow came, when he did as he had said he would.

CHAPTER XXV.-HOW ROGUES TALK TO EACH OTHER.

FROM Abi the bailiff went to Shaben Michel, who saw him at a distance, beckoned him into a corner, behind the house, and said: "What the deuce art thou about now?"