who was telling him how there had been lately quite a stir. Professor
Gellert had been ill, and riding a well- trained horse had been
recommended for his health. Now Prince Henry of Prussia, during the
Seven Years' War, at the occupation of Leipzig, had sent him a piebald,
that had died a short time ago; and the Elector, hearing of it, had sent
Gellert from Dresden another--a chestnut--with golden bridle, blue
velvet saddle, and gold-embroidered housings. Half the city had
assembled when the groom, a man with iron-gray hair, brought the horse;
and for several days it was to be seen at the stable; but Gellert dared
not mount it, it was so young and high-spirited. The rustic now asked
his son whether the Professor did not make money enough to procure a
horse of his own, to which the son answered: "Certainly not. His salary
is but one hundred and twenty-five dollars, and his further gains are
inconsiderable. His Lectures on Morals he gives publicly, i.e., gratis,
and he has hundreds of hearers; and, therefore, at his own lectures,
which must be paid for, he has so many the fewer. To be sure, he has now
and then presents from grand patrons; but no one gives him, once and for
all, enough to live upon, and to have all over with a single
acknowledgment."

Our friend Christopher started as he heard this; he had quite made up
his mind to take Gellert the wood: but he had yet to do it. How easy
were virtue, if will and deed were the same thing! if performance could
immediately succeed to the moment off burning enthusiasm! But one must
make way over obstacles; over those that outwardly lie in one's path,
and over those that are hidden deep in the heart; and negligence has a
thousand very cunning advocates.

How many go forth, prompted by good intentions, but let little
hindrances turn them from their way--entirely from their way of life!