must be slender like a finger pointing heavenwards. Three bells there
must be to announce the Trinity of God in one Person, and to sing the
song of faith, hope, and love. And an organ there must be, but no
pictures and gilding and show.

_Autumn_, 1816.

I have been taking a census. How very limited is their range of names.
They have no family names, and only some half dozen Christian names!
This must be altered. I must invent names for them, according to their
occupation or dwelling or character: Sepp Woodcutter, Hiesel
Springhutter, and so forth. They like their new names; only Berthold
gets angry and refuses to take a name. "A name for me? I want no name; I
am nobody. The priest won't let me marry. Call me Berthold Misery, or
call me Satan!"

_May_, 1817.

I have been ill--the result of being snowed up on the way home from a
visit to a forester who had been wounded by a poacher. The danger is
over now, but my eyes continue to suffer. The forest folk have been very
good to me, and much concerned about my progress. And now I am able to
go out again. To-day I was watching a spider in the thicket, when I saw
Aga rushing towards me. "Ah, it's you!" she cried. "You must help us. We
want to live in honour and decency. The priest won't marry us. You can
ask for our blessing." The next moment Berthold had joined her and they
were kneeling before me. And I pronounced the words which I had no right
to pronounce. I married them in the heart of the green forest.

_St. James's Day_, 1817.