Well, I have taken a fancy the rest of the gifts to deposit

In your hands, and thus fulfil to the best my commission;
You will divide them with prudence, whilst I my fate am obeying.'

Then the maiden replied:--'With faithfulness I will distribute
All your gifts, and the needy shall surely rejoice at your bounty.'

Thus she spake, and I hastily open'd the boot of the carriage,
Took out the hams (full heavy they were) and took out the bread-stuffs,

Flasks of wine and beer, and handed the whole of them over.
Gladly would I have given her more, but empty the boot was.

Straightway she pack'd them away at the feet of the patient, and forthwith
Started again, whilst I hasten'd back to the town with my horses."

Then when Hermann had ended his story, the garrulous neighbour
Open'd his mouth and exclaim'd:--"I only deem the man happy

Who lives alone in his house in these days of flight and confusion,
Who has neither wife nor children cringing beside him

I feel happy at present; I hate the title of father;
Care of children and wife in these days would be a sad drawback.

Often have I bethought me of flight, and have gather'd together
All that I deem most precious, the antique gold and the jewels

Worn by my late dear mother, not one of which has been sold yet.
Much indeed is left out, that is not so easily carried.

Even the herbs and the roots, collected with plenty of trouble,
I should he sorry to lose, though little in value they may be.

If the dispenser remains, I shall leave my house in good spirits
If my ready money is saved, and my body, why truly

All is saved, for a bachelor easily flies when 'tis needed."
"Neighbour," rejoin'd forthwith young Hermann, with emphasis speaking

"Altogether I differ, and greatly blame your opinions.
Can that man be deem'd worthy, who both in good and ill fortune

Thinks alone of himself, and knows not the secret of sharing
Sorrows and joys with others, and feels no longing to do so?

I could more easily now than before determine to marry
Many an excellent maiden needs a husband's protection,

Many a man a cheerful wife, when sorrow's before him."
Smilingly said then the father:--"I'm pleas'd to hear what you're saying,

Words of such wisdom have seldom been utter'd by you in my presence.
Then his good mother broke in, in her turn, with vivacity speaking

"Son, you are certainly right. We parents set the example.
'Twas not in time of pleasure that we made choice of each other,

And 'twas the saddest of hours, that knitted us closely together.
Monday morning,--how well I remember! the very day after

That most terrible fire occurr'd which burnt down the borough,
Twenty years ago now; the day, like to-day, was a Sunday,

Hot and dry was the weather, and little available water.
All the inhabitants, clothed in their festival garments, were walking,

Scatter'd about in the inns and the mills of the neighbouring hamlets.
At one end of the town the fire broke out, and the flames ran

Hastily all through the streets, impell'd by the draught they created.
And the barns were consumed, where all the rich harvest was gather'd

And all the streets as far as the market; the dwelling house also
Of my father hard by was destroy'd, as likewise was this one.

Little indeed could we save; I sat the sorrowful night through
On the green of the town, protecting the beds and the boxes.

Finally sleep overtook me, and when by the cool breeze of morning
Which dies away when the sun arises I was awaken'd,

Saw I the smoke and the glow, and the half-consumed walls and the chimneys.
Then my heart was sorely afflicted; but soon in his glory

Rose the sun more brilliant than ever, my spirits reviving.
Then in haste I arose, impell'd the site to revisit

Where our dwelling had stood, to see if the chickens were living
Which I especially loved; for childlike I still was by nature.

But when over the ruins of courtyard and house I was climbing,
Which still smoked, and saw my dwelling destroy'd and deserted,

You came up on the other side, the ruins exploring.
You had a horse shut up in his stall; the still-glowing rafters

Over it lay, and rubbish, and nought could be seen of the creature.
Over against each other we stood, in doubt and in sorrow,

For the wall had fallen which used to sever our courtyards;
And you grasp'd my hand, addressing me softly as follows

'Lizzy, what here are you doing? Away! Your soles you are burning,
For the rubbish is hot, and is scorching my boots which are thicker.'

Then you lifted me up, and carried me off through your courtyard.
There still stood the gateway before the house, with its arch'd roof,

Just as it now is standing, the only thing left remaining.
And you sat me down and kiss'd me, and I tried to stop you,

But you presently said, with kindly words full of meaning
'See, my house is destroy'd! Stop here and help me to build it,

I in return will help to rebuild the house of your father.'
I understood you not, till you sent to my father your mother,

And ere long our marriage fulfilid the troth we soon plighted.
Still to this day I remember with pleasure the half-consumed rafters,

Still do I see the sun in all his majesty rising,
For on that day I gain'd my husband; the son of my youth too

Gained I during that earliest time of the wild desolation.
Therefore commend I you, Hermann, for having with confidence guileless

Turn'd towards marriage your thoughts in such a period of mourning,
And for daring to woo in war and over the ruins.--"

Then the father straightway replied, with eagerness speaking:--
"Sensible is your opinion, and true is also the story

Which you have told us, good mother, for so did ev'rything happen.
But what is better is better. 'Tis not the fortune of all men

All their life and existence to find decided beforehand;
All are not doom'd to such troubles as we and others have suffer'd.

O, how happy is he whose careful father and mother
Have a house ready to give him, which he can successfully manage!

All beginnings are hard, and most so the landlords profession.
Numberless things a man must have, and ev'rything daily

Dearer becomes, so he needs to scrape together more money.
So I am hoping that you, dear Hermann, will shortly be bringing

Home to us a bride possessing an excellent dowry,
For a worthy husband deserves a girl who is wealthy,

And 'tis a capital thing for the wish'd-for wife to bring with her
Plenty of suitable articles stow'd in her baskets and boxes.

Not in vain for years does the mother prepare for her daughter
Stocks of all kinds of linen, both finest and strongest in texture;

Not in vain do god-parents give them presents of silver,
Or the father lay by in his desk a few pieces of money.

For she hereafter will gladden, with all her goods and possessions,
That happy youth who is destined from out of all others to choose her.

Yes! I know how pleasant it makes a house for a young wife,
When she finds her own property placed in the rooms and the kitchen,

And when she herself has cover'd the bed and the table.
Only well-to-do brides should be seen in a house, I consider,

For a poor one is sure at last to be scorn'd by her husband,
And he'll deem her a jade who as jade first appear'd with her bundle.

Men are always unjust, but moments of love are but transient.
Yes, my Hermann, you greatly would cheer the old age of your father

If you soon would bring home a daughter-in-law to console me,
Out of the neighbourhood too,--yes, out of yon dwelling, the green one!

Rich is the man, in truth his trade and his manufactures
Make him daily richer, for when does a merchant not prosper?

He has only three daughters; the whole of his wealth they'll inherit.
True the eldest's already engaged; but then there's the second,

And the third, who still (not for long) may be had for the asking.
Had I been in your place, I should not till this time have waited;

Bring home one of the girls, as I brought your mother before you.
Then, with modesty, answer'd the son his impetuous father

"Truly my wish was, like yours, to marry one of the daughters
Of our neighbour. We all, in fact, were brought up together,

Sported in youthful days near the fountain adjoining the market,
And from the rudeness of boys I often managed to save them.

But those days have long pass'd the maidens grew up, and with reason