Franz has returned from the target-shooting and was the hero of the occasion. What shouts of joy and triumph! He gained the first prize, a fine rifle. The target, riddled with bullets, is displayed before our house.
A falling leaf in autumn--how many bright summer days and mild nights were required to perfect it? What was it while it hung on the tree? What is it now, when it falls to the ground?
And what is the result of a whole human life, when summed up in a few sentences?
How many feet is our farm above the level of the sea? I do not know, and Hansei would smile to think of one's asking such a question. We perform our duty on the little spot of earth on which we dwell. Its effect flows out into the great sea of humanity and of history, without any interference of ours. The brook goes on in its course, driving the mill-wheels, irrigating the meadows, and is at last swallowed up in the ocean, whence come the clouds and storms that again feed the brook.
In spite of all that I grew up to, all that, in a course of years, I have practiced, acted, or thought, I cannot help regarding myself as a block of wood--even now, I know not what will become of me, or who will hew me into shape.
I have a beautiful task on hand--a piece of work that will remain and be a constant pleasure to me--work for our own house.
When the additions were made to the dwelling, I succeeded, with the assistance of the carpenter, in giving greater symmetry to the dwelling itself. The piazza running round the house received a more open roof, and the balustrade a more pleasing form.