" Close the lid of the trunk and strap the satchels. Let 

 us turn the back to the city and run for the country where 

 dear grandfather expects his flock for the holidays !" 



The last railroad station is behind us, and, through fields of 

 waving grain whence larks rise to the clouds to praise the 

 glorious summer, the way leads to the village where grand- 

 father reigns over the diocese of Jeinsen and its tributary 

 ecclesiastics. 



Here is my kindergarten. Acres upon acres, with houses 

 and barns, with a walnut tree overshading the home of dozens 

 of rooms, with wasps in knot-holes, with meadows on slopes to 

 willowy brook, with cows and horses, with chickens and hay- 

 stacks, and, be sure to note such, the old family coach in the 

 shed. 



And here is my kindergartner. 



Behold the venerable figure as it passes' along the lanes 

 greeted with bow and lift of cap by old and young alike. 

 His office, with piles of papers with foreign stamps, and with 

 instruments of all descriptions, was a veritable museum to 

 us. It never needed a bell to call us to the daily lessons. 

 We were there upon the minute to listen, now to a talk on 

 the wonders of the waterdrop, then to the descriptions of 



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