ht-seers, it is
at least a frequent resort of the town's-folk themselves, for whose
gratification it supplies no small proportion of small-talk.

Among the well-known and familiar objects of this small world--for such
the Juden Gasse in reality is--was a poor boy of some twelve years old,
who, clad in the most wretched rags, and with want in every feature,
used to sit the live-long day on one of the stone benches watching the
birds. It needed but one glance at his bright but unsteady eye, his
faint unmeaning smile, his vague and wild expression, to recognise that
he was bereft of reason. Is it necessary to say this was poor Fritzerl?

Whence he came, who were his parents, how he journeyed thither, no one
could tell! He appeared one morning, when the shop-people were removing
the shutters, sitting close by a window, where the early songs of the
birds was audible, his head bent down to listen, and his whole attitude
betokening the deepest attention. Though he offered no resistance
when they bade him leave the spot, he shewed such deep sorrow and
such reluctance, that he was suffered to remain; and this was now his
dwelling-place. He never quitted it during the day, and there did he
pass the night, under the shelter of the deep arches, and protected by
the fragment of a mantle, which some compassionate neighbour had given
him. All endeavours to induce him to speak were in vain; a sickly smile
was his only answer to a question; and, if pressed too closely, the
tears would come, so that none liked to give him further pain, and
the hope of learning any thing about him, even his name, was given up.
Equally fruitless was every effort to make him perform little services.
If the shopkeepers gave him a bird to carry home for a purchaser, he
would at once sit down beside the cage and gaze wistfully,
delightedly, at the occupant; but he could not be persuaded to quit his
abiding-place. Who could rob one so poor of all the happiness his life
compassed? certainly not the good-natured and kindly folk who inhabited
the bird-market.

He became then a recognised part of the place, as much as the bustard
with one eye in the corner shop, or the fat old owl that had lived for
fifty--some said seventy--years, in the little den with the low iron
door. Every one knew him; few passed without a look of kindness towards
him. It was of no use to give him money, for though he took money when
offered, the next moment he would leave it on the stones