Nevertheless, it being too certain that the sweeping of doorsteps diligently will not in all cases enable a pretty maiden to drive away from said doorsteps, for evermore, in a gilded coach,—one has to consider what may be the next best for her. And next best, or, in the greater number of cases, best altogether, will be that Love, with his felicities, should himself enter over the swept and garnished steps, and abide with her in her own life, such as it is. And since St. Valentine’s grace is with us, at this season, I will finish my Fors, for this time, by carrying on our little romance of the Broom-maker, to the place in which he unexpectedly finds it. In which romance, while we may perceive the principal lesson intended by the author to be that the delights and prides of affectionate married life are consistent with the humblest station, (or may even be more easily found there than in a higher one,) we may for ourselves draw some farther conclusions which the good Swiss pastor only in part intended. We may consider in what degree the lightening of the wheels of Hansli’s cart, when they drave heavily by the wood of Muri, corresponds to the change of the English highway into Mount Parnassus, for Sir Philip Sidney; and if the correspondence be not complete, and some deficiency in the divinest power of Love be traceable in the mind of the simple person as compared to that of the gentle one, we may farther consider, in due time, how, without help from any fairy Godmother, we may make Cinderella’s life gentle to her, as well as simple; and, without taking the peasant’s hand from his labour, make his heart leap with joy as pure as a king’s. [12] Well, said Hansli, I’ll help you; give me your bag; I’ll put it among my brooms, and nobody will see it. Everybody knows me. Not a soul will think I’ve got your shoes underneath there. You’ve only to tell me where to leave them—or indeed where to stop for you, if you like. You can follow a little way off;—nobody will think we have anything to do with each other. The young girl made no compliments. [13] You are really very good, [14] said she, with a more serene face. She brought her packet, and Hans hid it so nicely that a cat couldn’t have seen it. Shall I push, or help you to pull? asked the young girl, as if it had been a matter of course that she should also do her part in the work. As you like best, though you needn’t mind; it isn’t a pair or two of shoes that will make my cart much heavier. The young girl began by pushing; but that did not last long. Presently she found herself [15] in front, pulling also by the pole. It seems to me that the cart goes better so, said she. As one ought to suppose, she pulled with all her strength; that which nevertheless did not put her out of breath, nor hinder her from relating all she had in her head, or heart.