Out of second-hand stuff that somebody doubtless has given;
And we were pleased with her aspect:  she seems like a girl to be trusted. 
Tell us whatever thou knowest:  we ask it with honest intentions.”

Soon as the magistrate nearer had come, and looked into the garden,
“Her thou knowest already,” he said; “for when I was telling
Of the heroic deed performed by the hand of that maiden,
When she snatched the man’s sword, and delivered herself and her charges,
This was the one! she is vigorous born, as thou seest by her stature;
Yet she is good as strong, for her aged kinsman she tended
Until the day of his death, which was finally hastened by sorrow
Over his city’s distress, and his own endangered possessions. 
Also, with quiet submission, she bore the death of her lover,
Who a high-spirited youth, in the earliest flush of excitement,
Kindled by lofty resolve to fight for a glorious freedom,
Hurried to Paris, where early a terrible death he encountered. 
For as at home, so there, his foes were deceit and oppression.”

Thus the magistrate spoke.  The others saluted and thanked him,
And from his purse a gold-piece the pastor drew forth:—­for the silver
He had some hours before already in charity given,
When he in mournful groups had seen the poor fugitives passing;—­
And to the magistrate handed it, saying:  “Apportion the money
’Mongst thy destitute people, and God vouchsafe it an increase.” 
But the stranger declined it, and, answering, said:  “We have rescued
Many a dollar among us, with clothing and other possessions,
And shall return, as I hope, ere yet our stock is exhausted.”

Then the pastor replied, and pressed the money upon him: 
“None should be backward in giving in days like the present, and no one
Ought to refuse to accept those gifts which in kindness are offered. 
None can tell how long he may hold what in peace he possesses,
None how much longer yet he shall roam through the land of the stranger,
And of his farm be deprived, and deprived of the garden that feeds him.”

“Ay, to be sure!” in his bustling way interrupted the doctor: 
“If I had only some money about me, ye surely should have it,
Little and big; for certainly many among you must need it. 
Yet I’ll not go without giving thee something to show what my will is,
Even though sadly behind my good-will must lag the performance.” 
Thus, as he spoke, by its straps his embroidered pocket of leather,
Where his tobacco was kept, he drew forth,—­enough was now in it
Several pipes to fill,—­and daintily opened, and portioned. 
“Small is the gift,” he added.  The justice, however, made answer: 
“Good tobacco can ne’er to the traveller fail to be welcome.” 
Then did the village doctor begin to praise his canister.

But the clergyman drew him away, and they quitted the justice. 
“Let us make haste,” said the thoughtful man:  “the youth’s waiting in torture;
Come I let him hear, as soon as he may, the jubilant tidings.”