in vain. One day he desired them to leave him, and for six hours he
slept so profoundly that his niece thought he was dead. At the end of
this time he wakened, and cried with a loud voice, "Blessed be Almighty
God for this great benefit He has vouchsafed to me! His mercies are
infinite; greater are they than the sins of men."

These rational words surprised his niece, and she asked what he meant by
them. He answered that by God's mercy his judgment had returned, free
and clear. "The cloud of ignorance," said he, "is now removed, which
continuous reading of those noxious books of knight-errantry had laid
upon me." He said that his great grief now was the lateness with which
enlightenment had come, leaving him so little time to prepare his soul
for death.

The others coming in, Don Quixote made his confession, and one went to
fetch Sancho Panza. With tears in his eyes the squire sought his poor
master's side, and when in the first clause of his will Don Quixote made
mention of Sancho, saying afterwards, "Pardon me, my friend, that I
brought upon you the shame of my madness," Sancho cried out, "Woe's me,
your worship, do not die this bout; take my counsel, and live many a
good year. For it is the maddest trick a man can play in his whole life
to go out like the snuff of a candle, and die merely of the mulligrubs!"

The others admonished him in like spirit, but Don Quixote answered and
said, "Gently, sirs! do not look in last year's nests for the birds of
this year. I was mad, but now I have my reason. I was Don Quixote of La
Mancha; but to-day I am Alonso Quixano the Good. I hope that my
repentance and my sincerity will restore me to the esteem that once you
had for me. And now let Master Notary proceed." So he finished writing
his will, and then fell into a swooning fit, and lay full length in his
bed. But he lingered some days, and when he did give up the ghost, or to
speak more plainly, when he died, it was amidst the tears and
lamentations of his family, and after he had received the last
sacrament, and had expressed, in pathetic way, his horror at the books
of chivalry.

* * * * *

ADALBERT VON CHAMISSO

Peter Schlemihl, the Shadowless Man

Adalbert von Chamisso, a German lyric poet and scientist, was
born on January 30, 1781, at the Castle of Boncourt, in the
Champagne district of France. His parents emigrated in 1790,
and in 1796 he became page to