"I have indeed felt that; but have learned to avoid it by a strict
regularity in my mode of living. For this purpose I endeavor by
exercise to preserve my health, and then there is no danger. Every day
I walk for several hours and enjoy the light and air as much as
possible; or I remain in these halls, and busy myself at certain times
with basket-braiding and carving. I exchange my ware at distant places
for provisions; I have brought many books with me, and thus time passes
like a moment. In these places I have acquaintances who know where I
live, and from whom I learn what is going on in the world. These will
bury me when I die, and take away my books."

He led them nearer his seat, which was against the wall of the cave.
They noticed several books and a guitar lying upon the ground, and upon
the wall hung a complete suit of armor apparently quite costly. The
table consisted of five great stone slabs, put together in the form of
a box. Upon the upper one were two sculptured male and female figures
large as life, holding a garland of lilies and roses. Upon the side was
inscribed,

"Frederick and Mary of Hohenzollern here returned to their native
dust."

The hermit inquired of his guests concerning their fatherland, and how
they had journeyed into these regions. He was kind and communicative,
and displayed great knowledge of the world.

The old man said, "I see you have been a warrior; the armor betrays
you."

"The dangers and vicissitudes of war, the deep, poetic spirit connected
with an armed host, tore me from my youthful solitude and determined
the destiny of my life. Perhaps the long tumult, the innumerable events
among which I have dwelt, awakened in me a yet stronger inclination for
solitude, where numberless recollections make pleasant companions; and
this the more, in proportion as our view of them is varied; a view
which now first discovers their true connexion, their significance, and
their occult tendency. The peculiar sense for the study of man's
history develops itself but tardily, and rather through the silent
influence of memory than by the more forcible impressions of the
present. The nearest events seem but loosely connected, yet they
sympathize so much the more curiously with the remote. And it is only
when one is able to comprehend in one view a lengthened series, neither
interpreting too literally, nor confounding the proper method with
capricious fancies, that he detects the secret chain whic