silver lakes, dazzling crests, ridges, and peaks projecting their clear
outlines upon the steel-blue of the valleys clothed in snow. Beyond this,
infinite space!

Could any enthusiasm of poet or skill of painter attain the sublime
elevation of such a scene as that?

I stood mute with admiration. At every moment the details stood out
more clearly in the advancing light of morning; hamlets, farm-houses,
villages, seemed to rise and peep out of every undulation of the land. A
little more attention brought more and more numerous objects into view.

I had leaned out of my window rapt in contemplation for more than a
quarter of an hour when a hand was laid lightly upon my shoulder; I
turned round startled, when the calm figure and quiet smile of Gideon
saluted me with--

"Guten Tag, Fritz! Good morning!"

Then he also rested his arms on the window, smoking his short pipe. He
extended his hand and said--

"Look, Fritz, and admire! You are a son of the Black Forest, and you must
admire all that. Look there below; there is Roche Creuse. Do you see it?
Don't you remember Gertrude? How far off those times seem now!"

Sperver brushed away a tear. What could I say?

We sat long contemplating and meditating over this grand spectacle. From
time to time the old poacher, noticing me with my eyes fixed upon some