I asked him if he did not find his life at the Crib very tiresome, and what he did to pass away the time. I remarked that I believed, if I were in his place, I would be smitten most fearfully with the blues. He laughed good humoredly, and said he had never been troubled in that manner, that there were daily a great number of visitors, curiosity-seekers, which the Crib attracted, as it was altogether novel, and had but just been completed. Then he said he had his dog for companionship, and that they lived very pleasantly together. He was evidently much attached to this animal, whom he called Caspar, for he frequently interrupted the conversation to stroke it on the head. I was astonished to find him well acquainted with the current news of the day, but he readily explained this, for usually some one who came out carried a paper, which was willingly given to him, and having nothing else to occupy his time he read it much more carefully than we do who are in the turmoil of the city. Towards the middle of the day I left him, almost envying his peaceful life and happy contentment, yet doubting if this would last long, for, after the novelty wore away, I could not help thinking that he might find his solitary existence less pleasing. I had become wonderfully interested in this man, and determined to pay him another visit when I could again find half a day to devote to pleasure. It was not, however, until the following September that I could spare time for another trip to the Crib. This visit, as I said, had been prompted out of curiosity to watch the effects of this solitary life upon Stahlmann. Although four months had elapsed, I found him situated just as I had left him, and by the appearance of the surroundings, I might have almost believed it was but yesterday I had looked upon him. When I remarked this to him, I noticed a peculiar smile play across his features, and it struck me that his face had not the same happy expression which had so pleased me before. I observed, too, that he carried himself in a listless manner, very unlike his former erect bearing. I found him, however, just as readily drawn into conversation, although some of his old enthusiasm was gone, and he manifested an evident disinclination to speak of himself, for when I made an effort to bring up the subject, he displayed considerable skill in evading it. This was repeated again and again until I found that he would not be forced to it, but I saw full well by his actions that he had already grown tired of his monotonous life. All my jokes about the solitude, which he had laughed at before, were now received in silence and with furtive glances. Evidently it had become a serious matter, and I dropped the disagreeable subject.