nced
to flute-music. 'Glorious summer twilights,' cries Teufelsdroeckh,
'when the Sun, like a proud Conqueror and Imperial Taskmaster, turned
his back, with his gold-purple emblazonry, and all his fireclad
body-guard (of Prismatic Colours); and the tired brickmakers of this
clay Earth might steal a little frolic, and those few meek Stars would
not tell of them!'

Then we have long details of the _Weinlesen_ (Vintage), the
Harvest-Home, Christmas, and so forth; with a whole cycle of the
Entepfuhl Children's-games, differing apparently by mere superficial
shades from those of other countries. Concerning all which, we shall
here, for obvious reasons, say nothing. What cares the world for our
as yet miniature Philosopher's achievements under that 'brave old
Linden'? Or even where is the use of such practical reflections as the
following? 'In all the sports of Children, were it only in their
wanton breakages and defacements, you shall discern a creative
instinct (_schaffenden Trieb_): the Mankin feels that he is a born
Man, that his vocation is to work. The choicest present you can make
him is a Tool; be it knife or pen-gun, for construction or for
destruction; either way it is for Work, for Change. In gregarious
sports of skill or strength, the Boy trains himself to Cooeperation,
for war or peace, as governor or governed: the little Maid again,
provident of her domestic destiny, takes with preference to Dolls.'

Perhaps, however, we may give this anecdote, considering who it is
that relates it: 'My first short-clothes were of yellow serge; or
rather, I should say, my first short-cloth, for the vesture was one
and indivisible, reaching from neck to ankle, a mere body with four
limbs: of which fashion how little could I then divine the
architectural, how much less the moral significance!'

More graceful is the following little picture: 'On fine evenings I was
wont to carry-forth my supper (bread-crumb boiled in milk), and eat it
out-of-doors. 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 distant western Mountains, consumed, not without
relish, my evening meal. Those hues of gold and azure, that hush of
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.