rer's answer.

"When one calculates so well, and so rapidly, no wonder one is
melancholy," said the little man to himself. Then going on--"Who was the
greatest man of antiquity?" asked he.

"Alexander."

"Who was the wisest?"

"Socrates."

"Who was the proudest?"

"Diogenes."

"Which of these do you like the best?"

"Alexander."

"What do you think of the neighbor who obliges his neighbor?"

"I think that the first has the advantage of the second."

The little gentleman considered a moment, and began again--

"What is your father's trade, young man?"

This simple question made Durer blush. He did not say a word in answer.
The little man, who was very clear-sighted, said--"This young fellow is
ashamed to own that he belongs to a poor shepherd in the village hard by.
Bad heart--strong head--detestable nature! This boy will never make
anything but a diplomatist." Then, after a moment's reflection, he said
to himself--"But it's of no consequence."

The end was, that young Durer went back to the cottage wild with joy. He
took leave of his father and his mother, who shed torrents of tears at
his leaving them. John was turning his back on the shepherd's cabin for
ever: he was to go to Vienna, to finish his studies there. For the
little man had put into his hand three purses full of gold, and had said,
"I am Counsellor Werter, favorite of his Majesty the Emperor. Your
assiduity in study has become known to me. Work on--for aught you know,
you may be on the high road."

Three years afterward, Durer entered the office of the Emperor's
secretary. Later, he became, himself, private secretary. Later still,
he received a barony and a handsome estate.--So much for the prophecies,
so much for the secret influence of the Counsellor Werter!

Durer was on the highway paved with gold;--but he forgot his father, and
he forgot his mother, too.

One day, when Counsellor Werter was going to court, he met Durer on the
staircase of the palace. He said to him,--

"Baron Durer, I sent yesterday, in your name, twelve thousand crowns to a
certain old shepherd in a village not far from Haerlem."

The Counsellor said this in rather a scornful voice; and he saw that
Baron Durer turned as red as the boy had done in the Valley of the
Bushes, on the evening when he was asked what his father's trade was.
The two men looked steadily at each other: the Baron with that hatred
which is never to be appeased--the Counsellor w