ew position, for no apothecary
and chemist had ever before had such a well-fitted furnace and such
delicate scales and instruments to work with; and if he did not
understand what was the end of so much weighing and fusing and
distilling, or what the remedies were that the doctor was always
decanting from the boiling liquids, yet the occupation made the long
summer days pass most pleasantly, for he had none of that love of the
open air that most Leipzigers bring into the world with them.

Since his apprenticeship, and a whole lifetime had passed since then, he
had left the apothecary shop only twice a year to take a holiday, and on
none of these occasions had he ever seen green trees, for his "outings"
as he called them, fell, according to his own wish, on the festival of
the "Three Kings" in January, and on the twenty-seventh of March which
was his saint's day, his name being Rupert.

Of the eighty holidays that lay behind him--all of which he had spent in
going to see a sister who was married to a miller and lived in
Gohlis--nine and thirty times it had rained, and forty-one times it had
snowed. In consequence of this "a walk in the fresh air" always suggested
to his mind, damp clothes, wet feet, ruined shoes, a cold in the head,
and an attack of indigestion--the result of his sister's greasy cooking.
His wife, too, preferred the inside of the city walls, "where" as she was
so fond of saying, "you know where you are."

Thus even in summer Herr Schimmel was always on hand to help the doctor,
nor had he cause to complain of being over worked, for the master seemed
as fond of a walk in the open air as the assistant was averse to one, and
when May came and the fruit trees were in blossom, when the delicate
green leaves of the beeches burst from the bud, and the oaks shed their
dry brown foliage in order to deck themselves out in young green, and the
dandelions embroidered the fields with gold and then sprinkled them over
with silver tissue, when the cowslips and daisies and violets and their
spring companions in purple and yellow appeared, and the larches on the
banks of the Pleisse turned green, when the nightingale sang and rejoiced
in the woods, then Doctor Melchior Ueberhell rarely spent a sunny
afternoon at home.

With his beautiful young wife on his arm he wandered through the lovely
Laubwald--that precious possession of the city--and though he had often
said while in Italy, where it is dryer and the foliage spars