If ever you need
the encouragement of a friend, if ever a sympathizing soul is necessary
to you, come to Weimar; sympathy and appreciation shall never fail you
there."

"Oh! I will surely go," answered Moritz, deeply moved, and pressing
heartily Goethe's offered hand.

"One thing more I have to say to you: Live much with Nature; accustom
yourself to regard the sparrow, the flower, or the stone, as worthy of
your attention as the wonderful phoenix or the monuments of the ancients
with their illegible inscriptions. To walk with Nature is balsam for
a weary soul; gently touched by her soft hands, the recovery is most
rapid. I have experienced it, and do experience it daily. Now, once
more, farewell; in the true sense of the word fare-thee-well! I wish
that I could help you in other ways than by mere kind words. It pains me
indeed that I can render you no other aid or hope. You alone can do what
none other can do for you.--Farewell!"

He turned, and motioning to Moritz not to follow him, almost flew down
the stairs into the street. Drawing a long breath, he stood leaning
against the door, gazing at the crowd--at the busy passers-by--some
merrily chatting with their companions, others with earnest mien and in
busy haste. No one seemed to care for him, no one looked at him. If
by chance they glanced at him, Johann Wolfgang Goethe was of no more
consequence to them than any other honest citizen in a neighboring
doorway.

Without perhaps acknowledging it to himself, Goethe was a little vexed
that no one observed him; that the weather-maker from Weimar, who was
accustomed to be greeted there, and everywhere, indeed, with smiles and
bows, should here in Berlin be only an ordinary mortal--a stranger among
strangers. "I would not live here," said he, as he walked slowly down
the street. "What are men in great cities but grains of sand, now blown
together and then asunder? There is no individuality, one is only a
unit in the mass! But it is well occasionally to look into such a
kaleidoscope, and admire the play of colors, which I have done, and
with a glad heart I will now fly home to all my friends--to you, beloved
one--to you, Charlotte!"

CHAPTER XI. THE INNER AND THE MIDDLE TEMPLE.

Wilhelmine Enke had passed the day in great anxiety and excitement, and
not even the distraction of her new possession had been able to calm the
beating of her heart or allay her fears. Prince Frederick William had
arrived early in th