Stories by German Authors, vol 2 | Page 4

then he went back again to the sitting-room,
past the kitchen, where the fire was burning cheerily. He seated himself
at the table and waited for his morning porridge. On the table lay an
open book; his children had been reading it the previous evening:
involuntarily taking it up, he began to read. Suddenly he started, rubbed
his eyes, and then read again. How comes this verse here just at this
moment? He kept his hand upon the book, and so easily had he caught
the words, that he repeated them to himself softly with his lips, and
nodded several times, as much as to say: "That's true!" And he said
aloud: "It's all there together: short and sweet!" and he was still staring
at it, when his wife brought in the smoking porridge. Taking off his cap,
he folded his hands and said aloud:
"Accept God's gifts with resignation, Content to lack what thou hast not:
In every lot there's consolation; There's trouble, too, in every lot!"
The wife looked at her husband with amazement. What a strange

expression was upon his face! And as he sat down and began to eat, she
said: "What is the meaning of that grace? What has to you? Where did
you find it?"
"It the best of all graces, the very best,--real God's word. Yes, and all
your life you've never made such nice porridge before. You must have
put something special in it!"
"I don't know what you mean. Stop! There's the book lying there--ah!
that's it-- and it's by Gellert, of Leipzig."
"What! Gellert, of Leipzig! Men with ideas like that don't live now;
there may have been such, a thousand years ago, in holy lands, not
among us; those are the words of a saint of old."
"And I tell you they are by Gellert, of Leipzig, of whom your brother
has told us; in fact, he was his tutor, and haven't you heard how pious
and good he is?"
"I wouldn't have believed that such men still lived, and so near us, too,
as Leipzig."
"Well, but those who lived a thousand years ago were also once living
creatures: and over Leipzig is just the same heaven, and the same sun
shines, and the same God rules, as over all other cities."
"Oh! yes, my brother has an apt pupil in you!"
"Well, and why not? I've treasured up all he told us of Professor
Gellert."
"Professor!"
"Yes, Professor!"
"A man with such a proud, new-fangled title couldn't write anything
like that!"
"He didn't give himself the title, and he is poor enough withal! and how
hard it has fared with him! Even from childhood he has been well
acquainted with poverty: his father was a poor minister in Haynichen,
with thirteen children; Gellert, when quite a little fellow, was obliged to
be a copying office-clerk: who can tell whether he didn't then contract
that physical weakness of his? And now that he's an old man, things
will never go better with him; he has often no wood, and must be
pinched with cold. It is with him, perhaps, as with that student of whom
your brother has told us, who is as poor as a rat, and yet must read; and
so in winter he lies in bed with an empty stomach, until day is far
advanced; and he has his book before him, and first he takes out one

hand to hold his book, and then, when that is numb with cold, the other.
Ah! tongue cannot tell how poorly the man must live; and yet your
brother has told me, if he has but a few pounds, he doesn't think at all
of himself; he always looks out for one still poorer than he is, and then
gives all away: and he's always engaged in aiding and assisting others.
Oh! dear, and yet he is so poor! May be at this moment he is hungry
and cold; and he is said to be in ill-health, besides."
"Wife, I would willingly do the man a good turn if I could. If, now, he
had some land, I could plough, and sow, and reap, and carry, and thresh
by the week together for him. I should like to pay him attention in such
a way that he might know there was at least one who cared for him. But
his profession is one in which I can't be of any use to him."
"Well, just seek him out and speak with him once; you are going to-day,
you know, with your wood to Leipzig. Seek him out and thank him;
that sort of thing does such a man's heart good. Anybody can see him."
"Yes, yes; I should like much to see him, and hold out to him my