another. 
Every one uses his own; in his own individual fashion,
Each must be happy and good.  I will not have my Hermann found fault with;
For he is worthy, I know, of the goods he shall one day inherit;
Will be an excellent landlord, a pattern to burghers and builders;
Neither in council, as I can foresee, will he be the most backward. 
But thou keepest shut up in his breast all the poor fellow’s spirit,
Finding such fault with him daily, and censuring as thou but now hast.” 
And on the instant she quitted the room, and after him hurried,
Hoping she somewhere might find him, and might with her words of affection
Cheer him again, her excellent son, for well he deserved it.

Thereupon when she was gone, the father thus smiling continued: 
“What a strange folk, to be sure, are these women; and just like the children;
Both of them bent upon living according as suiteth their pleasure,
While we others must never do aught but flatter and praise them. 
Once for all time holds good the ancients’ trustworthy proverb: 
‘Whoever goes not forward comes backward.’  So must it be always.”

Thereupon answered and said, in a tone of reflection, the doctor: 
“That, sir neighbor, I willingly grant; for myself I am always
Casting about for improvement,—­things new, so they be not too costly. 
But what profits a man, who has not abundance of money,
Being thus active and stirring, and bettering inside and outside? 
Only too much is the citizen cramped:  the good, though he know it,
Has he no means to acquire because too slender his purse is,
While his needs are too great; and thus is he constantly hampered. 
Many the things I had done; but then the cost of such changes
Who does not fear, especially now in this season of danger? 
Long since my house was smiling upon me in modish apparel! 
Long since great panes of glass were gleaming in all of the windows! 
But who can do as the merchant does, who, with his resources,
Knows the methods as well by which the best is arrived at? 
Look at that house over yonder,—­the new one; behold with what splendor
’Gainst the background of green stand out the white spirals of stucco! 
Great are the panes in the windows; and how the glass sparkles and glitters,
Casting quite into the shade the rest of the market-place houses! 
Yet just after the fire were our two houses the finest,
This of the Golden Lion, and mine of the sign of the Angel. 
So was my garden, too, throughout the whole neighborhood famous: 
Every traveller stopped and gazed through the red palisadoes,
Caught by the beggars there carved in stone and the dwarfs of bright colors. 
Then whosoever had coffee served in the beautiful grotto,—­
Standing there now all covered with dust and Partly in ruins,—­
Used to be mightily pleased with the glimmering light of the mussels
Spread out in beautiful order; and even the eye of