lsive in his laugh, and in the fact
that he never wearied of repeating certain high-sounding phrases. But
what was there to draw me towards this man? I will honestly admit
that I have a certain admiration for combativeness, courage, and
shrewdness--qualities in which I am deficient.

My unsuspecting confidence in others is a mistake. But I have been thus
for seventy years, and when I reckon up results, I find that I am none
the worse for it. Although over-confidence in others has brought me
many a sorrow, it has also given me many a joy.

I have suffered much through others, and through Funk especially; but I
still believe that there are no thoroughly bad men, but that there are
thoroughly egotistical ones, and that the pushing of egotism beyond its
due bounds is the source of all evil.

If I had not helped him with all my influence, Funk would not have been
chosen a delegate to the Parliament. When he visited me, on the day
following the election, he addressed me in a tone of unwonted and
unlooked-for familiarity, much to the disgust of my wife.

After he had left she said to me, "I cannot understand you. I did not
interfere when I saw that you were trying to gain votes for Funk; that,
I presume, is a part of politics, and perhaps the party needs voters,
and just such bold and irreverent people. They can say things that a
man of honor would not permit himself to utter. But I cannot conceive
how you can allow yourself to be on so familiar a footing with that
man."

I assured her that the first advances had been made by him, and that
although they were undesired by me I did not choose to appear proud.

She said no more. But there was yet another reproof in store for me.

When I entered the stable Rothfuss said to me, "Why did you let that
grinning fellow get so near to you? Is he still calling out, 'God be
with thee, Waldfried! You will come to see me soon, will you not?' Such
talk from that quarter is no compliment."

I did not suffer him to go on with his remarks. My weak fear of hurting
the feelings of others had already worked its own punishment on myself.

When I left home for the session of 1865, Funk was waiting for me down
by the saw-mill. I found him with a young man, the son of a
schoolmaster who lived in the neighborhood. He took leave of his
companion, and turning to me exclaimed with a triumphant air, "I have
already saved one poor creature to-day. The simple-minded fellow wanted
to become a teache