THEY say I'm óf a Propaganda school
And would have áll men measure by my rule,
Ánd they say trué, perhaps; but then the rule,
I'd have them measure by, is: THERE'S NO RULE.
WÜRZBURG (BAVARIA), Sept. 29, 1855.

INTO two classes áll men f divide,

The oppressed on this, the oppressors on that, síde; Lét them change námes and places as they will, Oppressors and oppréssed I find them still.

Walking from SUHL to OBERNHOF in the THURINGIAN FOREST; Oct. 4, 1855.

PLEASANT it is to journey on and on,

Obsérving still new lands and peoples strange,
But far more pleasant on a spot to light

Which with so friendly courtesy receives us,

Thát we stop shórt and sảy: "Why one step further?"

PROVIDENCE versus CHANCE AND FATE.

THE ship struck on a rock by accident,

And sánk, and all on board were lost but two,
Whóm in the longboat of th' illfated vessel,
Álmost by miracle, a kind Providence saved.

WEINSBERG (WÜRTTEMBERG), Sept. 3, 1855.

No wonder, reáder, that from all I say

Thou túrn'st with closed eyes and closed ears away, Fór in this point at least all men agree,

That each will teacher, none will learner, be.

WEINSBERG (WÜRTTEMBERG), Sept. 13, 1855.

INSCRIPTION

FOR A LUCIFER - MATCH BOX.

(1)

PROMETHEUS' feát to thine was but a patch,

Glórious inventor of the lucifer-match!

Thou steal'st not fire, but mák'st it fresh and new; And, what even Heaven forgót, hid'st it from view.

WEINSBERG (WÜRTTEMBERG), Sept. 20, 1855.

Dówn my head

Laid like lead,

Clothes tucked in

Under chin,

I begin

Not to sleep,

But to weep
And watch keep,

Wondering why
Í don't die

Instantly,

And down low,
Sad and slow,

Tó Styx go,
There to moan

Faithless Joan
Away flown,

Flown away,

Would not stay,

Lack a day!

Well, let bé!

Plain I see

"Twould kill me

Thé hayrick,

Whére, close by

Joán's house, I

Used to lie

On the ground,
Watching round
Sight or sound
Óf Joan nigh.
"Bye! good bye!
Joan," said I;
"As thou me,
Í leave thee,

Tó live free,"

And a look,
Turning, took

Of the brook

Ánd grass plat
And flower knot

Ánd thatched cot.

The fresh sun,

His day's run

Just begun,

Clad with bright

Ruddy light

Tower and height,