As three of us little fags had no lodging, we intended to go at night to the corn-market, and sleep upon the corn sacks. There were several women in the street standing before the salt-house, who asked where we were going. A butcher's widow was of the number, who, when she understood that we were Swiss, said to her maid, "Run, hang the pot with the soup and the remainder of the meat over the fire; they must lodge with me to-night; I am friendly to all Swiss. I served in an inn at Inspruck at the time the Emperor Maximilian held his court there. The Swiss had much dealing with him then, and were such good people, that I will be friendly to them all my life long." She gave us enough to eat and drink, and a good place to rest in. In the morning she said to us, "If one of you will stay with me, I will give him lodging, and meat and drink." We were all willing, and because I looked a little sharper than the others, she chose me. I helped her with her household and field occupations; but was still obliged, however, to wait on my Bacchant. The woman did not like to see that, and said, "Let the Bacchant alone, and stay with me, then you need not beg." For eight days, therefore, I went neither to the Bacchant nor to the school. He then came and knocked at the house-door. She said to me, "Your Bacchant is there, say that you are sick." I did what she desired me, for I did not know that a lie of that kind was a sin. When Paul came she said to him, "You are truly a fine gentleman, and should have looked after Thomas: he has been sick, and is so still." He said then, "I am sorry for it, boy: when you can go out again, come to me." Afterwards, on a Sunday, I went to vespers; then he said to me after vespers, "You fag, you do not come to me, I will trample you under foot some day." Then I resolved that he should not trample on me, for that I would run away. On Sunday I said to the butcher's widow that I wanted to go into the school and wash my shirt. I went, however, over the Iser, for I was afraid that if I went to Switzerland Paul would follow me. At the other side of the Iser is a hill; there I sat down, looked at the city, and cried bitterly, because I had now no longer any one to help me. I thought of going to Saltzburg or Vienna in Austria. As I sat there, a peasant came by with his waggon. He had brought salt to Munich, and was already drunk, although the sun had only just risen. I asked him to allow me to get up, and rode with him till he stopped to get something for himself and his horses to eat. In the mean time I begged in the village; and not far from the village I waited for him, and fell asleep. On awaking I cried heartily; for I thought that the peasant had driven away, and felt as if I had lost a father. However he soon came, quite drunk; told me to get up again, and asked whither I wished to go? I said to Saltzburg. When it was evening he drove side-ways off the highroad, and said, "Now you can get down, there is the road to