t to tease.

He was a very poor little boy indeed to look at, with his sheepskin
tunic, and his bare feet and legs, and his wallet that never was to get
filled.

"Where do you come from, and what do you want?" they asked; and he
answered, with a sob in his voice:

"I want to do like Findelkind of Arlberg."

And then the crowd laughed, not knowing at all what he meant, but
laughing just because they did not know, as crowds always will do. And
only the big dogs that are so very big in this country, and are all
loose, and free, and good-natured citizens, came up to him kindly, and
rubbed against him, and made friends; and at that tears came into his
eyes, and his courage rose, and he lifted his head.

"You are cruel people to laugh," he said, indignantly; "the dogs are
kinder. People did not laugh at Findelkind. He was a little boy just
like me, no better and no bigger, and as poor, and yet he had so much
faith, and the world then was so good, that he left his sheep, and
got money enough to build a church and a hospice to Christ and St.
Christopher. And I want to do the same for the poor. Not for myself, no;
for the poor! I am Findelkind too, and Findelkind of Arlberg that is in
heaven speaks to me."

Then he stopped, and a sob rose again in his throat.

"He is crazy!" said the people, laughing, yet a little scared; for the
priest at Zirl had said rightly, this is not an age of faith. At that
moment there sounded, coming from the barracks, that used to be the
Schloss in the old days of Kaiser Max and Mary of Burgundy, the sound
of drums and trumpets and the tramp of marching feet. It was one of the
corps of Jagers of Tyrol, going down from the avenue to the Rudolfplatz,
with their band before them and their pennons streaming. It was a
familiar sight, but it drew the street-throngs to it like magic: the
age is not fond of dreamers, but it is very fond of drums. In almost
a moment the old dark arcades and the river-side and the passages near
were all empty, except for the women sitting at their stalls of fruit
or cakes, or toys. They are wonderful old arched arcades, like the
cloisters of a cathedral more than anything else, and the shops under
them are all homely and simple,--shops of leather, of furs, of clothes,
of wooden playthings, of sweet and wholesome bread. They are very
quaint, and kept by poor folks for poor folks; but to the dazed eyes of
Findelkind they looked like a forbidden paradise, for he was so hun