s shot from the pole. Whoever brought down the last
splinter became king. This honour once fell to my share, and I was
permitted to choose a queen. I crowned Marie Breimann, a pretty, slender
young girl from Brunswick, whose Greek profile and thick silken hair had
captivated my fancy. She and Adelheid Barop, the head-master's daughter,
were taught in our classes, but Marie attracted me more strongly than
the diligent Keilhau lassies with their beautiful black eyes and
the other two blooming and graceful Westphalian girls who were also
schoolmates. But the girls occupied a very small place in our lives.
They could neither wrestle, shoot, nor climb, so we gave them little
thought, and anything like actual flirtation was unknown--we had so many
better things in our heads. Wrestling and other sports threw everything
else into the shade. Pretty Marie, however, probably suspected which
of my school-mates I liked best, and up to the time of my leaving the
institute I allowed no other goddess to rival her. But there were plenty
of amusements at Keilhau besides bird-shooting.

I will mention the principal ones which came during the year, for to
describe them in regular order would be impossible.

Of the longer walks which we took in the spring and summer the most
beautiful was the one leading through Blankenburg to the entrance of the
Schwarzathal, and thence through the lofty, majestically formed group
of cliffs at whose foot the clear, swift Schwarza flows, dashing and
foaming, to Schwarzburg.

How clearly our songs echoed from the granite walls of the river valley,
and how lively it always was at "The Stag," whose landlord possessed a
certain power of attraction to us boys in his own person; for, as the
stoutest man in Thuringia, he was a feast for the eyes! His jollity
equalled his corpulence, and how merrily he used to jest with us lads!

Of the shorter expeditions I will mention only the two we took most
frequently, which led us in less than an hour to Blankenburg or
Greifenstein, a large ruin, many parts of which were in tolerable
preservation. It had been the home of Count Gunther von Schwarzburg, who
paid with his life for the honour of wearing the German imperial crown a
few short months.

We also enjoyed being sent to the little town of Blankenburg on errands,
for it was the home of our drawing-master, the artist Unger, one of
those original characters whom we rarely meet now. When we knew him, the
handsome, broa