outlines and single tints; and so he stands at the border of the Earth,
and looks back upon his stately Spring, whose robe-folds are valleys,
whose breast-bouquet is gardens, and whose blush is a vernal evening,
and who, when she arises, shall be--Summer.
But to proceed! Every spring--and especially in such a spring--I
imitate on foot our birds of passage; and travel off the
hypochondriacal sediment of winter; but I do not think I should have
seen even the steeple-ball of Hukelum, which is to be set up one of
these days, to say nothing of the Parson's family, had not I happened
to be visiting the Flachsenfingen Superintendent and Consistorialrath.
From him I got acquainted with Fixlein's history,--every Candidatus
must deliver an account of his life to the Consistorium,--and with his
still madder petition for a steeple-ball. I observed, with pleasure,
how gayly the cob was diving and swashing about in his duck-pool and
milk-bath of life; and forthwith determined on a journey to his shore.
It is singular, that is to say, manlike, that when we have for years
kept prizing and describing some original person or original book, yet
the moment we see such, they anger us; we would have them fit us and
delight us in all points, as if any originality could do this but our
own.
It was Saturday, the third of May, when I, with the Superintendent, the
_Senior Capituli_, and some temporal Raths, mounted and rolled off, and
in two carriages were driven to the Parson's door. The matter was, he
was not yet--_invested_, and to-morrow this was to be done. I little
thought, while we whirled by the white espalier of the Castle-garden,
that there I was to write another book.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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