Always rememb'ring the much-to-be-honor'd kindness of parents,

Whose only thought is to swell for our sakes their goods and possessions,

And who deprive themselves of much, to save for their children.

But, alas, not saving alone for enjoyment hereafter, Constitutes happiness, no, not heaps of gold or of silver,

Neither field upon field, however compact the estate be. For the father grows old, and his son at the same time grows older,

Feeling no joy in To-day, and full of care for To-mor

row

Now look down from this height, and see how beauteous before us

Lies the fair rich expanse, with vineyard and gardens at bottom;

There are the stables and barns, and the rest of the property likewise;

There I also descry the back of our house, in the gables Of the roof may be seen the window of my small apart

ment.

When I remember the time when I used to look out for the moon there

Half through the night, or perchance at morning awaited the sunrise,

When with but few hours of healthy sleep I was fully contented,

Ah, how lonely do all things appear! My chamber, the court, and

Garden, the beautiful field which spreads itself over the hillside;

All appears but a desert to me; I still am unmarried!"

Then his good mother answer'd his speech in a sensible

manner:

'Son, your wish to be able to lead your bride to her chamber,

Turning the night to the dearest and happiest half of your lifetime,

Making your work by day more truly free and unfetter'd,

Cannot be greater than that of your father and mother.
We always

Urged you,-commanded, I even might say,-to choose
some fair maiden.

But I know full well, and my heart has told me already:

If the right hour arrives not, or if the right maiden appears not

Instantly when they are sought for, man's choice is thrown in confusion,

And he is driven by fear to seize what is counterfeit only.

If I may tell you, my son, your choice already is taken,

For your heart is smitten, and sensitive more than is usual.

Answer me plainly, then, for my spirit already has told

me:

She who now you have chosen is that poor emigrant maiden!"

"Yes, dear mother, you're right!'' the son with vivacity answer'd:

"Yes, it is she! And unles this very day I conduct her Home as my bride, she will go on her way and escape me forever,

In the confusion of war, and in moving backwards and forwards.

Mother, then before my eyes, will in vain be unfolded All our rich estate, and each year henceforward be fruitful.

Yes, the familiar house and the garden will be my aversion.

Ah, and the love of my mother no comfort will give to my sorrow,

For I feel that by Love each former bond must be

loosen'd,

When her own bonds she knits; 'tis not the maiden alone who

Leaves her father and mother behind, when she follows her husband.

So it is with the youth; no more he knows mother and father,

When he beholds the maiden, the only beloved one, approaching.

Therefore let me go hence, to where desperation may lead me,

For my father already has spoken in words of decision, And his house no longer is mine, if he shuts out the maiden

Whom alone I would fain take home as my bride from henceforward."

Then the excellent sensible mother answer'd with quick

ness:

"Men are precisely like rocks when they stand opposed to each other!

Proud and unyielding, the one will never draw near to the other.

Neither will suffer his tongue to utter the first friendly

accent.

Therefore I tell you, my son, a hope still exists in my bosom.

If she is worthy and good, he will give his consent to your marriage,

Poor though she be, and although with disdain he refused you the poor thing.

For in his hot-headed fashion he utters many expres-
sions

Which he never intends; and so will accept the Refused
One.

But he requires kind words, and has a right to require

them,

For your father he is; his anger is all after dinner, When he more eagerly speaks, and questions the reasons of others,

Meaning but little thereby; the wine then excites all the vigor

Of his impetuous will, and prevents him from giving due weight to

Other people's opinions; he hears and he feels his own only.

But when evening arrives, the tone of the many dis

courses

Which his friends and himself hold together, is very

much alter'd.

T

Milder, becomes he as soon as his liquor's effects have passed over,

And he feels the injustice his eagerness did unto others Come, we will venture at once! Success the reward is of boldness,

And we have need of the friends who now have assembled around him,

Msot of all we shall want the help of our excellent pastor.

Thus she eagerly spoke, and leaving the stone that she sat on,

Also lifted her son from his seat. He willingly follow'd, And they descended in silence, revolving the weighty proposal.

V. POLYHYMNIA.

THE COSMOPOLITE.

BUT the Three, as before were still sitting and talking together,

With the landlord, the worthy divine, and also the druggist,

And their conversation still concern'd the same subject, Which in every form they had long been discussing together.

Full of noble thoughts, the excellent pastor continued: "I can't contradict you. I know 'tis the duty of mortals

Ever to strive for improvement; and, as we may see, they strive also

Ever for that which is higher, at least what is new they seek after,

But don't hurry too fast! For combined with these feel ings, kind Nature

Also has given us pleasure in dwelling on that which is ancient,

And in clinging to that to which we have long been accustom'd.

Each situation is good that's accordant to nature and

reason.

Many things man desires, and yet he has reed of but little;

For but short are the days, and confined is the lot of a mortal.

I can never blame the man who, active and restless, Hurries along, and explores each corner of earth and

the ocean

Boldly and carefully, while he rejoices at seeing the profits

Which round him and his family gather themselves in abundance.

But I also duly esteem the peaceable burgher,

Who with silent steps his paternal inheritance paces, And watches over the earth, the seasons carefully noting.

'Tis not every year that he finds his property alter'd; Newly-planted trees cannot stretch out their arms tow'rds the heavens

All in a moment, adorn'd with beautiful buds in abundance.

No, a man has need of patience, he also has need of Pure unruffled tranquil thoughts, and an intellect honest,

For to the nourishing earth few seeds at a time he entrusteth,

Few are the creatures he keeps at a time, with a view to their breeding,

For what is Useful alone remains the first thought of his lifetime.

Happy the man to whom Nature a mind thus attuned may have given!

Tis by him that we all are fed. And happy the towns

man

of the small town who unites the vocations of town

and of country.

fle is exempt from the pressure by which the poor farmer is worried,

Is not perplex'd by the citizens' cares and soaring ambition,