or me, that his wife's parents were dead, and
had died without giving her any token of reconciliation--a circumstance
which, although it cut her to the heart, did not quite cast her down,
feeling that she had done nothing but what a parent might forgive, being
all of us creatures alike liable to error, demanding alike some little
indulgence for our weaknesses and our fancies. Her brother was now sole
representative of the family; and knowing the generosity of his nature,
she determined to pay him a visit, although, for the first time since
her marriage, in a condition very unfit for traveling. She went. Her
brother received her with all his early affection. In his house was born
her first child; and so much did she and her bantling win upon his
heart, that when the time came that she must return, nothing would serve
but he would take her himself. She had been so loud in Hans's praise,
that he determined to go and shake him by the hand. It would have done
any one good to have seen this worthy mountaineer setting forth, seated
in his neat, green-painted wicker wagon; his sister by his side, and the
child snugly-bedded in his own corn-hopper at their feet. Thus did they
go statelily, with his great black horse drawing them. It would have
been equally pleasant to see him set down his charge at the door of
Hans's house, and behold with wonder that merry mannikin, all smiles and
gesticulation, come forth to receive them. The contrast between Hans and
his brother-in-law was truly amusing. He, a shadow-like homunculus, so
light and dry, that any wind threatened to blow him before it; the
bergman, with a countenance like the rising sun, the stature of a giant,
and limbs like an elephant. Hans watched, with considerable anxiety, the
experiment of his kinsman seating himself in a chair. The chair,
however, stood firm; and the good man surveyed Hans, in return, with a
curious and critical air, as if doubtful whether he must not hold him
in contempt for the want of that solid matter of which he himself had
too much. Hans's good qualities, however, got the better of him. "The
man's a man, though," said he to himself, very philosophically, "and as
he is good to my sister, he shall know of it." Hans delighted him every
evening, by the powers of his violin; and the bergman, excessively fond
of music, like most of his countrymen, declared that he might perform in
the emperor's orchestra, and find nobody there to beat him. When he took
his