saddles, and the drivers roses in their mouths. The shadows of the
clouds go trailing along,--the birds fly between them up and down, and
journeymen mechanics wander cheerily on with their bundles, and want
no work. Even when it rains we love to stand out of doors, and breathe
in the quickening influence, and the wet does the herdsman harm no
more. And is it night, so sit we only in a cooler shadow, from which
we plainly discern the daylight on the northern horizon and on the
sweet warm stars of heaven. Wheresoever I look, there do I find my
beloved blue on the flax in blossoms, on the corn-flowers, and the
godlike endless heaven into which I would fain spring as into a
stream. And now, if we turn homeward again, we find indeed but fresh
delight. The street is a true nursery, for in the evening after
supper, the little ones, though they have but a few clothes upon
them, are again let out into the open air, and not driven under the
bed-quilt as in winter. We sup by daylight, and hardly know where
the candlesticks are. In the bed-chamber the windows are open day
and night, and likewise most of the doors, without danger. The oldest
women stand by the window without a chill, and sew. Flowers lie about
everywhere--by the ink-stand--on the lawyer's papers--on the justice's
table, and the tradesman's counter. The children make a great noise,
and one hears bowling of ninepin alleys half the night through our
walks up and down the street; and talks aloud, and sees the stars
shoot in the high heaven. The foreign musicians, who wend their
way homeward toward midnight, go fiddling along the street to their
quarters, and the whole neighborhood runs to the window. The extra
posts arrive later, and the horses neigh. One lies by the noise in
the window and droops asleep. The post-horns awake him and the whole
starry heaven hath spread itself open. O God! what a joyous life on
this little earth."