But the hour came at last when he knew he must die. He asked his wife to fold his useless hands on his breast, and, looking at her pitifully, he said, “And we must think of God also.”
Religion, in his gay years, as a provincial musician, and as a poet in the thoughtless society of the capital, had seldom occupied his thoughts.
His last thought was given to the subject which should have claimed the earliest and best efforts of his life.
“God also!” It was his farewell to the world. The demons had done their work. Life’s opportunities were ended.
The words of his afterthought echo after him, and, like his own weird stories, have their lesson.
Herman Reed presented a story from a more careful writer. It is a story with an aim, and left an impressive lesson on the minds of all. If it be somewhat of an allegory, it is one whose meaning it is not hard to comprehend.
THE HEART OF STONE.
The Black Forest, from time out of mind, has abounded with stories of phantoms, demons, genii, and fairies. The dark hue of the hills, the shadowy and mysterious recesses, the lonely ways, the beautiful glens, all tend to suggest the legends that are associated with every mountain, valley, and town. The old legends have filled volumes. One of the most popular of recent stories of the Black Forest is the “Marble Heart; or, the Stone-cold Heart,” by Hauff.
Wilhelm Hauff, a writer of wonderful precocity, genius, and invention, was born at Stuttgart in 1809. He was designed for the theological profession, and entered the University of Tübingen in 1820. He had a taste for popular legends, and published many allegorical works. He died before he had completed his twenty-sixth year.
There once lived a widow in the Black Forest, whose name was Frau Barbara Munk. She had a boy, sixteen years old, named Peter, who was put to the trade of charcoal-burner, a common occupation in the Black Forest.