“One,” I continued, taking up the thread, “I met in Southern Italy, dreaming; as I was dreaming, by the dark grotto of Pausilippo.  Meeting upon classic ground, it seemed strange to talk of old times, but we did.  And sitting down upon the promontory of Baiae, looking off upon the blue sea, we told each other our respective stories; just as ships will shift their course to come within speaking distance, compare longitude, and exchange letters, and—­part.  I have not heard from Eckerman since.”

My dreams were pleasant that night, and the next morning there was another surprise for me.  Gretchen’s brother was the pastor of a little church just above them; I must not go without seeing him, Gretchen said.  How could I?  Euler was my classmate; together we labored for knowledge, and our first manly sympathies run in the same channel.

On Sabbath I saw my friend in the pulpit.  “How like his father,” I whispered to Gretchen; the poetry in him warming his soul into a burst of fervid eloquence, and his face glowing with the beautiful truths he was unfolding to his hearers.  An uncouth church of rough stone, with quaint windows and curious carvings, the ceiling arched, with a blue ground on which blazed innumerable stars.  Strange and novel as it was, my eye never wandered from the speaker; the voice and expression so like the kind and generous man who had presided over the college, and who carried with him the affections of each succeeding class.  This seems to me more of a triumph now, than it did then.  A cultivated mind may challenge respect, but there is need of a noble one to win affection.

It was a week before I could think of leaving, and then the clouds twisted through and around the severed pyramids of the Alps, and the rain began.  In such weather the scenery is not only shrouded, but the people are shut up in their homes.  Pastor Euler had an ample study however, and here we read and wrote, and talked; with his wife, a pleasant-voiced woman, to enliven the pauses with music, and children dashing into the study giving abrupt and sudden turnings to our dreaming.  Christmas was near, and I was easily persuaded to see more of a people, shut in as they were from the noise and commotion of the lower world, and still not so far as to be unknowing of all that was taking place, whether in deliberative bodies, state policies, or the lighter chit-chat of the day.

“You will have an opportunity to see more of my parish than you can possibly see on a Sabbath occasion.  I visit them as often as I can, and twice a year I receive them at my own house.  The ‘Weihnachtsgeschenk’ is looked forward to with great pleasure, and the meeting of the Landsgemeinde in April is sure to bring my people together.”

Gretchen and her husband were clamorous for me to remain, and there was no resisting the pleading tones of the children, their little clinging fingers stronger than bands of iron.