The clergyman walked backwards and forwards, learning by heart from the written sheets he held in his hand. The sun was shining brightly in at both windows; they looked to the southwest and were wide open; a milky whiteness seemed to come through the furthest window and shed itself over the gray varnished floor; fluttering aspen-leaves were reflected on the window; the aspen-trees stood trembling by the railing outside on the road. The scent of auriculas, lilacs, and laburnums streamed in from the garden; he recognised each particular scent floating through the air; for he had planted both trees and flowers himself; they were his pets. If the breeze were a little stronger, regardless of everything, it would waft through the whole garden a powerful whiff from the budding birches and fresh pine-needles on the fir-trees which stood outside his domain; each time followed by a whiff of all sorts of things from the open fields; there was a smell of growing. Hush! "----What makes God so merciful to the poor unjust man, who can do nothing by himself? It is His unfathomable love for sinners, His unmerited loving-kindness, that makes him so." The steamer whistled for the third time; no, this was irresistible, he must watch the steamer as it steamed away from the pier in a long curve, and out across the lake, cutting the mirror-like water in two; the larger share fell to the islands yonder, the lesser to the shore here by the town. He took up his telescope from his desk. The pier down below was full of many-colored parasols, with a mixture of men's hats, mostly dark in colour, and here and there were linen hoods and kerchiefs, oftenest several of them together.