It was on the evening of Christmas a number of the Brotherhood, among them the Eckerlings and Brother Weiser--for though he had gone back to the world he oft revisited us--our superintendent and Sonnlein and I, were gathered on the highest point of Mount Sinai, nigh to the Brother woods. The sun had hardly sunk from view and the twilight begun to deepen over the unbroken expanse of forest and upon the slopes of the distant hills to the west, when suddenly Brother Jephune, our astronomer, clutched Brother Weiser by the arm, and exclaimed in awe-struck tones, "See, look, the comet!" as he pointed all in a tremble to where the sun had just disappeared. Startled by his voice and his intense gaze, we turned sharply. I could see naught but a single small star, shining dimly, but I held my peace. Brother Weiser was the first to break the strain in a cold, calm, judge-like tone, "I see naught but a small star; Brother Jephune, thou seest ever visions." "It were better for thee, our Brother Enoch, didst thou see more visions instead of having thine eyes stubbornly sealed against the mysteries of God," quietly interrupted Brother Onesimus. "Brother Jephune, mine eyes are yet strong. I see naught but a star, nor do our brethren see thy comet," said our leader. Brother Jephune apparently heard not his critics, for he still stood motionless and gazed most intensely upon what appeared to us an innocent star. Suddenly he turned to us again and whispered, "'Tis the very comet of last winter. I told ye the sun had swallowed it and now the sun hath spit out again the fiery monster," and then he wailed, "Woe, woe, be unto all the ungodly who shall be destroyed by this fiery serpent!" Because I did not always agree with the many foolish and unscriptural speculations of the Eckerlings, they oft accused me of irreverence and lacking in spirituality. Be that as it may, and although I knew many comets had appeared to the eyes of men since the creation without any apparent change in the rules and order of the universe, yet I felt the same awe that enveloped our little group. Calling Sonnlein to me I said to him as we all clustered about him, "I have taught thee somewhat of the stars; thine are the youngest eyes here. Look thou carefully. Is that yonder pale star such as thou seest at night?" And then with our awe reflected in his childish face he gazed steadily at the star, and then turning as in doubt, he said to me as though the others were not present, "'Tis a star, _Vaterchen_." "What knoweth such a child?" exclaimed our astrologer peevishly.