ming home, he
would pass his brother breaking stones on the road. He would look at
him half in pity and half in contempt, saying to himself, "This poor
devil works from morning to night for fifteen creutzers; and, if I have
any luck, I clear fifteen florins."

Conrad, seeing a little of these thoughts in spite of his
nearsightedness, would strike the stones until a thousand splinters
flew on every side.

We shall see hereafter whether Mike or Conrad did better in the end.

Mike was what is called "good company." He could tell stories day and
night, knew a thousand tricks, and was acquainted, as the German
proverb has it, with God and the world. Not that his acquaintance with
God was very intimate,--though he went to church now and then, as no
one in the country can avoid doing; but he went, like many others,
without thinking much about what he heard there, or endeavoring to act
accordingly.

Conrad also had his faults, among which perhaps the greatest was his
hatred of his brother and the manner in which he expressed it. When
asked, "How's Mike comin' on?" he would answer, "He'll come to this
some day," passing his hands under his chin as if to tie a knot, and
then lifting them up and stretching out his tongue. Of course people
were not chary in putting the question; and, whenever the standing
answer came, it was the signal for peals of merriment. In other ways,
also, people would try to keep the hatred of the brothers at the
boiling-point, not so much from malice as for fun. Mike never did more
than shrug his shoulders contemptuously when the "poor devil" was
mentioned.

They never remained in the same room. When they met at the inn, or at
their sister's, one of them always went away. No one ever thought of
making peace between them; and whenever people lived at daggers' points
it became proverbial to say, "They live like Mike and Conrad."

When they met at home they never spoke a word, nor even looked at each
other. Yet, when one perceived that the other was lying ill in bed, he
would go all the way to their sister's, who lived away off in Frog
Alley, and say, "Go up: I guess he's poorly:" and then he would make as
little noise as possible while he worked, so as not to disturb the
other.

Out of doors, however, and among the neighbors, they kept up their feud
without blinking; and no one would have thought of finding a spark of
brotherly love in their hearts.

This had now lasted wellnigh fourteen years. Mi