e my father speak thus, for I myself had been thinking of starting
on my travels; the yellow-hammer, which all through the autumn and
winter had been chirping sadly at our window, "Farmer, hire me;
farmer, hire me," was, now that the lovely spring weather had set in,
once more piping cheerily from the old tree, "Farmer, nobody wants
your work." So I went into the house and took down from the wall my
fiddle, on which I could play quite skilfully; my father gave me a
few pieces of money to set me on my way; and I sauntered off along
the village street. I was filled with secret joy as I saw all my old
acquaintances and comrades right and left going to their work digging
and ploughing, just as they had done yesterday and the day before,
and so on, whilst I was roaming out into the wide world. I called
out "Good-by!" to the poor people on all sides, but no one took much
notice of me. A perpetual Sabbath seemed to reign in my soul, and when
I got out among the fields I took out my dear fiddle and played and
sang, as I walked along the country road--

"The favored ones, the loved of Heaven,
God sends to roam the world at will;
His wonders to their gaze are given
By field and forest, stream and hill.

"The dullards who at home are staying
Are not refreshed by morning's ray;
They grovel, earth-born calls obeying,
And petty cares beset their day.

"The little brooks o'er rocks are springing,
The lark's gay carol fills the air;
Why should not I with them be singing
A joyous anthem free from care?

"I wander on, in God confiding,
For all are His, wood, field, and fell;
O'er earth and skies He, still presiding,
For me will order all things well."

As I was looking around, a fine traveling-carriage drove along very
near me; it had probably been just behind me for some time without
my perceiving it, so filled with melody had I been, for it was going
quite slowly, and two elegant ladies had their heads out of the
window, listening. One was especially beautiful, and younger than the
other, but both pleased me extremely. When I stopped singing the elder
ordered the coachman to stop his horses, and accosted me with great
condescension: "Aha, my merry lad, you know how to sing very pretty
songs!" I, nothing loath, replied, "Please Your Grace, I know some
far prettier." "And where are you going so early in the morning?" she
asked. I was ashamed to confess that I did not myself know,