d once been grain, the meat that had once been alive, and
the wine that had once been grapes in the vineyard.

"It seemed to me as if the fields and the beasts all came up to me and
asked, 'Where are you? What has become of you?' And then I could not
help thinking to myself, 'You have so many people here--a father, a
mother, one brother who is so learned, and another who is in another
world, a sister who is a major's wife, and one who is a pastor's, and
besides this, my own Ernst; and all these say: "We are yours and you
are ours."' When I thought of that, I felt so happy and yet so sad. And
then the two clocks kept up their incessant ticking. It seemed as if
they were talking to me all the time. The fast one said to me, 'How did
you get here, you simple, forlorn child, whom they found behind the
hedge? Run away as fast as you can! Run away! you cannot stay here; you
must go off. All these people about you have made a prisoner of you;
they feel kindly towards you, but you cannot stay. Run, run away! Run,
child, run!'

"But the other clock, with its quiet and steady tick, would always say,
'Be thankful, be thankful, be thankful! You are snugly housed with
kindly hearts; do what you can to earn their kindness by your
goodness.'

"They kept it up all the time. All at once I heard the cry of an owl. I
had often heard them in the forest, and I am not afraid of any of the
birds or beasts. Then the owl went away and all was still. I don't know
how it happened, but all at once I thought of summer and cried out
'Cuckoo!' quite loud. I was frightened at the sound of my own voice,
for fear that I might wake up the mistress; and when I thought of that
I felt as if I could die for grief. And then again I felt so happy to
think that the heart that was sleeping there was one that had taken me
up as its own. When the large clock would say 'Quite right, quite
right,' the busy little one would interrupt with 'Stupid stuff, stupid
stuff; run away, run away!'

"When the hour struck midnight, I opened the window and looked out
towards the graveyard. I am no longer afraid of it; the dead lie there;
they are now resting and were once just as happy and just as sad as I
now am.

"I do not know how all these things should have come into my mind. I
felt cheered up at last, and closed the window. Everything seemed so
lovely in the room, and I felt as if I were at home. At home in
eternity, and could now die. I did not fear death. I had fared