Of the shorter expeditions I will mention only the two we took most
frequently, which led us in less than an hour to Blankenburg or
Greifenstein, a large ruin, many parts of which were in tolerable
preservation. It had been the home of Count Gunther von Schwarzburg, who
paid with his life for the honour of wearing the German imperial crown a
few short months.

We also enjoyed being sent to the little town of Blankenburg on errands,
for it was the home of our drawing-master, the artist Unger, one of those
original characters whom we rarely meet now. When we knew him, the
handsome, broad-shouldered man, with his thick red beard, looked as one
might imagine Odin. Summer and winter his dress was a grey woollen
jacket, into which a short pipe was thrust, and around his hips a broad
leather belt, from which hung a bag containing his drawing materials. He
cared nothing for public opinion, and, as an independent bachelor,
desired nothing except "to be let alone," for he professed the utmost
contempt for the corrupt brood yclept "mankind." He never came to our
entertainments, probably because he would be obliged to wear something in
place of his woollen jacket, and because he avoided women, whom he called
"the roots of all evil." I still remember how once, after emptying the
vials of his wrath upon mankind, he said, in reply to the question
whether he included Barop among the iniquitous brood, "Why, of course
not; he doesn't belong to it!"

There was no lack of opportunity to visit him, for a great many persons
employed to work for the school lived in Blankenburg, and we were known
to be carefully watched there.

I remember two memorable expeditions to the little town. Once my brother
burned his arm terribly during a puppet-show by the explosion of some