than one hundred years ago,--that was, in 1767,--this region was
densely dark and far behind in the world's running as regards all
progress. The people were ignorant, poor, half-starved, almost
savage, destitute of communication, and unable to produce from their
own soil enough food for their own sustenance. Of manufacturing
enterprise they understood nothing, and were only just far enough
advanced in knowledge for the Protestants to hate the Catholics, and
the Catholics to hate the Protestants. Then came that wonderful
clergyman, Pastor Oberlin,--he was indeed a wonderful clergyman,--
and made a great change. Since that there have been the two
empires, and Alsace has looked up in the world. Whether the thanks
of the people are more honestly due to Oberlin or to the late
Emperor, the author of this little story will not pretend to say;
but he will venture to express his opinion that at present the rural
Alsatians are a happy, prosperous people, with the burden on their
shoulders of but few paupers, and fewer gentlemen,--apparently a
contented people, not ambitious, given but little to politics.
Protestants and Catholics mingled without hatred or fanaticism,
educated though not learned, industrious though not energetic, quiet
and peaceful, making linen and cheese, growing potatoes, importing
corn, coming into the world, marrying, begetting children, and dying
in the wholesome homespun fashion which is so sweet to us in that
mood of philosophy which teaches us to love the country and to
despise the town. Whether it be better for a people to achieve an
even level of prosperity, which is shared by all, but which makes
none eminent, or to encounter those rough, ambitious, competitive
strengths which produce both palaces and poor-houses, shall not be
matter of argument here; but the teller of this story is disposed to
think that the chance traveller, as long as he tarries at Granpere,
will insensibly and perhaps unconsciously become an advocate of the