local magistrate, he would in no wise confess to himself.

He sat still a long while; then he went back again to the sitting-room,
past the kitchen, where the fire was burning cheerily. He seated himself
at the table and waited for his morning porridge. On the table lay an
open book; his children had been reading it the previous evening:
involuntarily taking it up, he began to read. Suddenly he started,
rubbed his eyes, and then read again. How comes this verse here just at
this moment? He kept his hand upon the book, and so easily had he caught
the words, that he repeated them to himself softly with his lips, and
nodded several times, as much as to say: "That's true!" And he said
aloud: "It's all there together: short and sweet!" and he was still
staring at it, when his wife brought in the smoking porridge. Taking off
his cap, he folded his hands and said aloud:

"Accept God's gifts with resignation,
Content to lack what thou hast not:
In every lot there's consolation;
There's trouble, too, in every lot!"

The wife looked at her husband with amazement. What a strange expression
was upon his face! And as he sat down and began to eat, she said: "What
is the meaning of that grace? What has to you? Where did you find it?"

"It the best of all graces, the very best,--real God's word. Yes, and
all your life you've never made such nice porridge before. You must have
put something special in it!"

"I don't know what you mean. Stop! There's the book lying there--ah!
that's it-- and it's by Gellert, of Leipzig."