it were not that I was in such great disfavor with the
government, they would long ago have been stationed in a more genial
climate, and would thus have recovered their health.

She maintained that our mode of living was not pious enough, and
thought it most atrocious that we indulged Martella in her heathenish
ways.

She did not care to go to the village pastor, with whom we had but
little intercourse, for she was angry at him. His position brought him
little work but generous pay, and she therefore coveted it for her own
husband. But then, the wife of our pastor happened to be the daughter
of a member of the consistory, which, of course, explains the whole
matter.

One peculiarity of Martella's afforded Johanna many an opportunity to
read us homilies on our neglect of the child. No matter whether you did
her a service or gave her a present, Martella never uttered a word of
thanks.

I am unable to explain the trait. It may have been the result of the
simple life of nature in which she had been reared.

My son Richard, who passed a portion of the autumn holidays with us,
was of that opinion.

Richard had a way of laying aside his spectacles after he had been with
us for a day or two, and getting along without them until the day of
his departure. He thus, with every succeeding year, did much to
strengthen his overtasked eyes. I think he used to put his spectacles
in the keeping of Rothfuss, who would return them to him on the day he
left home.

On this occasion, however, he retained his spectacles, and spent less
of his time with Rothfuss than with Martella, who seemed to have become
fonder of him than of any of us. In the evenings and on Sundays, she
would take long walks with him in the woods, and would talk
unceasingly.

One evening Richard said:

"I received the great academical prize to-day. Martella said to me: 'I
can hardly believe that you are a professor; you are so--so wise, and
have so much common-sense, and can talk like--like a wood-keeper's
servant.' Can you imagine greater praise than that?

"And let me tell you, moreover, that Martella is full of wisdom. She
knows every creature, the beasts of the field and the birds of the air.
And besides that, she can read the human heart thoroughly. I could not
repeat some of her opinions to you without committing a breach of
confidence. But I can tell you that she has split many a log, and knows
how to swing her axe to the right spot.

"Yes, Ernst is