ant tints, only
needed this little infant figure to impart a soul to the scene, and make
it one of ravishing enchantment. Her tiny footsteps on the ground--her
little song, breathing of innocence and happiness--the garlands which
she wove, now, to place upon her own fair brow, now, in childish sport
to throw into the clear current--all imparted to the poor idiot's heart
sensations of intense delight. Who can say if that infant voice did not
wake to feeling the heart that all the wisdom of the learned could not
arouse from its sleep?

Not only was Fritz happy while he sat and watched this little child,
but, for the entire day after, he would appear calm and tranquil, and
his face would display the placid expression of a spirit sunk in a
pleasing trance.

It was not unusual with him, while he was thus gazing, for sleep to
come over him--a calm, delicious slumber--from which he awoke far more
refreshed and rested than from his night's repose. Perhaps she was
present in his dreams, and all her playful gestures and her merry tones
were with him while he slept. Perhaps--it is not impossible--that his
mind, soothed by the calming influence of, such slumber, recovered
in part its lost power, and not being called on for the exercise of
volition, could employ some of its perceptive faculties.

Be this as it may, this sleep was deep, and calm, and tranquillising.
One day, when he had watched longer than usual, and when her childish
sport had more than ever delighted him, he dropped oft* almost suddenly
into slumber. Motionless as death itself he lay upon the bank,--a faint
smile upon his parted lips, his chest scarcely seeming to heave, so soft
and quiet was his slumber. The river rippled pleasantly beside him, the
air was balmy as in the early spring, and fanned his hot temples with
a delicious breath, the child's song floated merrily out--the innocent
accents of infant glee--and Fritz seemed to drink these pleasures in as
he slept.

What visions of heavenly shape--what sounds of angelic sweetness--may
have flitted before that poor distracted brain, as with clasped hands
and muttering lips he seemed to pray a prayer of thankfulness,--the
outpouring gratitude of a pent-up nature finding vent at last! Suddenly
he awoke with a start--terror in every feature--his eyes starting from
their sockets: he reeled as he sprang to his feet, and almost fell. The
river seemed a cataract--the mountains leaned over as though they were
about