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expression, which but seldom gave place to a smile of unusual beauty.
The forehead elevated itself, with its deep lines, above the large brown
extraordinary eyes, and above this a wood of black-brown hair erected
itself, under whose thick stiff curls people said a multitude of
ill-humours and paradoxes housed themselves; so also, indeed, might
they in all those deep furrows with which his countenance was lined,
not one of which certainly was without its own signification. Still, there
was not a sharp angle of that face; there was nothing, either in word or
voice, of the Assessor, Jeremias Munter, however severe they might
seem to be, which at the same time did not conceal an expression of the
deepest goodness of heart, and which stamped itself upon his whole
being, in the same way as the sap clothes with green foliage the stiff
resisting branches of the knotted oak.
"Good day, brother!" exclaimed the Judge, cordially offering him his

hand, "how are you?"
"Bad!" answered the melancholy man; "how can it be otherwise? What
weather we have! As cold as January! And what people we have in the
world too: it is both a sin and shame! I am so angry to-day that----Have
you read that malicious article against you in the----paper?"
"No, I don't take in that paper; but I have heard speak of the article,"
said Judge Frank. "It is directed against my writing on the condition of
the poor in the province, is it not?"
"Yes; or more properly no," replied the Assessor, "for the extraordinary
fact is, that it contains nothing about that affair. It is against yourself
that it is aimed--the lowest insinuations, the coarsest abuse!"
"So I have heard," said the Judge; "and on that very account I do not
trouble myself to read it."
"Have you heard who has written it?" asked the visitor.
"No," returned the other; "nor do I wish to know."
"But you should do so," argued the Assessor; "people ought to know
who are their enemies. It is Mr. N. I should like to give the fellow three
emetics, that he might know the taste of his own gall!"
"What!" exclaimed Judge Frank, at once interested in the Assessor's
news--"N., who lives nearly opposite to us, and who has so lately
received from the Cape his child, the poor little motherless girl?"
"The very same!" returned he; "but you must read this piece, if it be
only to give a relish to your coffee. See here; I have brought it with me.
I have learned that it would be sent to your wife to-day. Yes, indeed,
what pretty fellows there are in the world! But where is your wife
to-day? Ah! here she comes! Good morning, my lady Elise. So
charming in the early morning; but so pale! Eh, eh, eh; this is not as it
should be! What is it that I say and preach continually? Exercise, fresh
air--else nothing in the world avails anything. But who listens to one's

preaching? No--adieu my friends! Ah! where is my snuff-box? Under
the newspapers? The abominable newspapers; they must lay their hands
on everything; one can't keep even one's snuff-box in peace for them!
Adieu, Mrs. Elise! Adieu, Frank. Nay, see how he sits there and reads
coarse abuse of himself, just as if it mattered nothing to him. Now he
laughs into the bargain. Enjoy your breakfasts, my friends!"
"Will you not enjoy it with us?" asked the friendly voice of Mrs. Frank;
"we can offer you to-day quite fresh home-baked bread."
"No, I thank you," said the Assessor; "I am no friend to such
home-made things; good for nothing, however much they may be
bragged of. Home-baked, home-brewed, home-made. Heaven help us!
It all sounds very fine, but it's good for nothing."
"Try if to-day it really be good for nothing," urged she. "There, we
have now Madame Folette on the table; you must, at least, have a cup
of coffee from her."
"What do you mean?" asked the surprised Assessor; "what is it? What
horrid Madame is it that is to give me a cup of coffee? I never could
bear old women; and if they are now to come upon the coffee-table----"
"The round coffee-pot there," said Mrs. Frank, good-humouredly, "is
Madame Folette. Could you not bear that?"
"But why call it so?" asked he. "What foolery is that?"
"It is a fancy of the children," returned she. "An honest old woman of
this name, whom I once treated to a cup of coffee, exclaimed, at the
first sight of her favourite beverage, 'When I see a coffee-pot, it is all
the same to me as if I saw an angel from heaven!' The children heard
this, and insisted upon it that there was a great resemblance