the performance of duties requiring such knowledge. On the other hand, I was no mean performer with the bagpipes, on which I could pipe many a melancholy song. As far as theology is concerned, I doubt whether any other of my age in whole Christendom was then my equal, for I knew neither of God nor of man, of heaven or hell, angels or devils, good or evil. Thus I lived, like our first parents in Paradise, knowing not of death or disease or sin. A noble life-an ass's life, you may say-in which no one took thought of such things as physic! And it is easy to understand my knowledge in the study of law, and whatever other sciences men rack their brains with; for so perfect and entire was my ignorance, that it was impossible for me to be aught but ignorant of the fact that I was ignorant of all. Once again, I exclaim, a noble life that I led then!

But my father would not let me taste longer of this extreme happiness, but judged rightly that, in conformity with my noble birth and breeding, it was now meet and fit for me to live a noble and active life; hence he began to train me to more difficult undertakings and give me deeper instruction.

He conferred upon me the highest dignity that is not only within his gift, but, indeed, within the world's-that of a herder of beasts. He entrusted me first with his sows, then with his goats, finally with his whole herd of sheep, which I was to take care of in the pasturage, and protect by means of my bagpipe (whose sound, as Strabo relates, fattens the sheep and lambs in Araby) from the ravages of the wolf. Thus I surely resembled David in all things but that he had a harp instead of the pipes; and this was a favorable omen, giving birth to the hope that, with other good fortune added to this, I might in time become a famous man. For from the very beginning of the world have shepherds been men of

high rank and estate, as we read in the Holy Script of Abel, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and his sons, and of Moses, who herded his father-in-law's sheep ere he became legislator and leader of the six hundred thousand men in Israel.

To be sure, one may reply that these were holy and Godfearing men, no peasant lads from the Spessart, ignorant of God. I confess the force of the objection; but was there no virtue in my then innocence? And among the heathens, too, not only among the chosen people of God, among the Romans there were right noble families, whose names show clearly that they are descended from shepherds. They called themselves Bubulcus, Vitullus, Vitellius, Taurus, because they had herded the cattle which these names signify. Of a truth Romulus and Remus were themselves shepherds; and so was Spartacus, before whom the might of Rome trembled; so were (as Lucian tells us in his dialogue on Helen) Paris, the son of Priam the king, and Anchises, the father of the Trojan prince Æneas. The lovely Endymion, of whom the chaste Luna was enamored, was a shepherd; and so was the horrid Polyphemus. Yea, the very gods themselves took no shame of this calling. Apollo herded the flocks of Admetus; Mercury, his son Daphnis, Pan, and Proteus, were arch-shepherds, and patrons of shepherds in foolish poets' verses; Mesa, king of Moab, and Cyrus, King of the Persians, and many others. So that it is well said that the office of a shepherd is the best preparation for that of kingship. Thus, as the warlike spirit is first exercised in hunting, so, too, in the shepherd's calling is the pacific nature and duty of a king to be exercised. All these matters my father understood full well, and to this hour have I not let go the hope of attaining the station of these early prognostications.

But to return to my flock. Learn, then, that I knew the appearance of a wolf as little as any other item in my huge ignorance. The more earnest were the instructions of my father. He said, "Boy, be industrious, and let not the sheep run amuck, and play the pipes steadily, that the wolf may not come and do them harm; for he is such a quadrupedantic rascal and thief, who eats men and beasts. But if thou art careless, I'll beat thee black and blue!"

I answered with equal sweetness of spirit, "Father, tell me how the wolf looks! I have never seen a wolf."

"Oh, thou ass's head!" he answered, "thou'lt be a fool thy life long. I wonder what will become of thee; thou art a great lout, and knowest not how the wolf looks, and what a rascal he is!"

He gave me more instruction, but became impatient at last, and went off murmuring, for he thought that my coarse mind could not catch his subtle instructions.

-"Simplicius Simplicissimus."

Christian Gellert

The Patient Cured

A MAN long plagued with aches in joint and limb Did all his neighbors recommended him,

But, despite that, could nowise gain

Deliverance from his pain.

An ancient dame, to whom he told his case,

Cut an oracular grimace,

And thus announced a magic remedy:

"You must," said she,

Mysteriously hissing in his ear,

And calling him "My dear,"

"Sit on a good man's grave at early light,

And with the dew fresh-fallen over night

Thrice bathe your hands, your knee-joints thrice:

'Twill cure you in a trice.

Remember her who gave you this advice."

The patient did just as the grandam said.
(What will not mortals do to be
Relieved of misery?)

He went right early to the burying-ground,

And on a tombstone-'twas the first he found-

These words, delighted, read:

66

Stranger, what man he was who sleeps below,

This monument and epitaph may show.

The wonder of his time was he,

The pattern of most genuine piety;

And that thou all in a few words may'st learn,

Him church and school and town and country mourn."

Here the poor cripple takes his seat,

And bathes his hands, his joints, his feet;

But all his labor's worse than vain :

It rather aggravates his pain.

With troubled mind he grasps his staff,

Turns from the good man's grave, and creeps
On to the next, where lowly sleeps

One honored by no epitaph.

Scarce had he touched the nameless stone,
When lo! each racking pain had flown;
His useless staff forgotten on the ground,
He leaves this holy grave, erect and sound.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "is there no line to tell
Who was this holy man that makes me well?”
Just then the sexton did appear,

Of him he asked, “Pray, who lies buried here?"
The sexton waited long, and seemed quite shy
Of making any sort of a reply.

66

'Well," he began at last with mournful sigh,

"The Lord forgive him, 'twas a man

Placed by all honest circles under ban;

Whom scarcely they allowed a decent grave;
Whose soul naught but a miracle might save;
A heretic, and, what is worse,

Wrote plays and verse!

In short, to speak my full conviction,

And without fear of contradiction,