for the interesting communication, so
that the old man, in an exalted mood which he had never experienced
before, ordered champagne, and broke the neck of more than one bottle
to the welfare of progress and the education of the people.

The following morning he was found dead in his bed from a stroke of
apoplexy, a triumphant smile still resting on his lips, which seemed to
ask the survivors whether his being so suddenly snatched away, when a
wider influence seemed about to be allotted to him, might not perhaps
have been destined to show that he possessed more than mediocre
ability.

But Edwin was not thinking of this worthy friend, as he walked down the
long street, and plucking up his courage, turned the corner. Here the
narrow little house with the steep roof and bright flesh colored paint
had formerly appeared at a distance. To-day--what has happened, that
his eyes at first failed to distinguish it? Had it been unwilling to
outlast its old master? No, it was still standing in its place, but its
appearance was completely transformed. The cheerful pink paint, which
contrasted too strongly with the feelings of its present owner, had
disappeared under a gloomy stone grey, with black stripes, so that it
seemed to be in mourning for its old master. The sign over the shop
door had been altered also, for a melancholy change had taken place in
the firm, whose name now read as follows: "Gottfried Feyertag's Widow &
Co.," which appendix of course meant none other than George, the head
journeyman.

All the windows on the first floor were wide open. In former days such
a thing had never been known to happen even in midsummer. But the
little old couple had left this peaceful dwelling several years ago, to
occupy that still more quiet last lodging, where protected from every
draught of air, we rest on our earthly laurels. Edwin had scarcely
exchanged a dozen words with these fellow lodgers, yet he now felt as
if they too had been a necessary part of his life, and that not to find
them again would be a real sorrow.

He approached the house with hesitating feet, ascended the few door
steps and went into the entry. Through the glass panes of the inner
door he could look into the shop, where Madame Feyertag, completely
attired in black with a large crepe cap, sat in the corner behind the
show case, sewing. He could not make up his mind to enter and deliver
Reginchen's message; an iron band seemed to compress his chest, he
feared