heavenly queen before whom it is easier to kneel down than to embrace her,--and as he further reflected that this noble heart, improved by an Emanuel and worthy of an Emanuel, nevertheless gave itself with all its heavens to the fickle heart of the pupil----and that the good soul could not have even this modest wish fulfilled, because fate delayed the blossoming of her love like that of a rose-bush by transplanting it, by setting it in the shade, by clipping the buds in _spring_ and _autumn_,--and as he saw that nevertheless this noble one had gone off to Maienthal with her finger on her lips, with her hand on her heavy heart, without a hint of her bitter disappointment, and that moral coldness _lifted up_ this flower, as physical cold does other flowers, but tore from it thereby the roots of life,--and as, finally, his dream on the third Easter-holiday, when it appeared to him as if he saw her rise singing from the earth on a light veil of mist, passed by before him like a great rain-cloud, and the dream with her faded hues paused before his pining soul, and a voice out of the dream asked him, "Wilt thou long continue to love her, when angels yearn for her and lift her out of her sorrow, and leave thee nothing but the grave of the too long misinterpreted heart?"----As all these thoughts, in glowing procession, like mountain chains of ruddy evening clouds, moved around his soul, then was his heart, like an altar, covered by a sacrificial fire falling from heaven, and all his earthly desires, all his stains, were consumed in this fire,--in short, he resolved to amend himself, in order, by virtue, to be worthy of a virtuous woman. He was converted on the 3d of April, 1793, towards evening; when the moon--and the EARTH--were under his feet in the Nadir. The reader may have laughed at this chronometer; but every man in whom virtue is anything higher than an accidental _water-sucker_ and wood-shoot, must be able to tell the hour wherein she became the Hamadryad of his inner being,--which the theologians call conversion and the Moravians the _breaking-through_. Why should not time mark off our spiritual sensations, when in fact it is only they that mark off its periods?