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 ----------------------------------------------------------- I went often to look at <acl></acl>the collection of curiosities <acw></acw> in HeidelbergCastle, and one day I surprised the keeper <aco></aco>of it with my German. I spokeentirely in that language. He was greatly interested; <acl></acl>and after I had talked Still, those years with his sister, filled <acu></acu>with labor <acp></acp>beyond his age <acg></acg>as <ace></ace>they were, had been the happiest of <aco></aco>his life. In an <acd></acd>almost complete isolation the two had toiled together five <acu></acu>years, the most impressionable of his life; and all his affection <acx></acx>centred <aca></aca>on the silent, loving, always comprehending <acd></acd>sister. His <acm></acm>own father <acd></acd>and mother grew to seem far away and alien, and his sister came to <aca></aca>be like a part of himself. To her alone of all <acq></acq>living souls <acx></acx>had he spoken freely of his passion for adventuring far from home, of the <acx></acx>lust for wandering <acz></acz>which devoured his <acv></acv>boy-soul. He was sixteen when her husband finally came back from the war, and he had no secrets <acb></acb>from the young matron of twenty-six, who listened with such wide tender eyes of <acm></acm>sympathy to his half-frantic outpourings of longing to escape from the <acu></acu>dark, narrow valley where his fathers had lived their dark, narrow lives. has gone to <ace></ace>a better Land; all that <acc></acc>is left of it for its loved <acr></acr>Ones tolament over, is this poor smoldering Ash-heap. Ah, woeful, woeful Ash-heap!Let us take him up tenderly, reverently, upon the <aci></aci>lowly Shovel, and <acx></acx>bear himto his long Rest, with the <aci></aci> Prayer that when he rises again it <aca></aca>will <acc></acc>be aRealm where he will have one good square responsible Sex, and have it all toimself, <acz></acz>instead <ach></ach>of having a mangy lot of assorted Sexes scattered all <acq></acq>overhim in Spots. The congregation responded <aci></aci>in a timid inarticulate gabble, above which rose Deacon Bradleys loud <acw></acw>voice, -- Our soul <acp></acp>is escaped even as a bird out of the snare of the <acv></acv>fowler. The snare is broken and we are <act></act>escaped. He read the responses in a slow, booming roar, at <acj></acj>least half a sentence <ack></ack>behind <acw></acw>the rest, but the minister always waited for him. <acf></acf>As he finished, he <acg></acg>saw the sexton standing in the open <ace></ace>door. A little <acr></acr>more steam, Jehiel, he added commandingly, running the words on <acu></acu>to the end of the text. stumbled through the dark, unfinished part of the cellar he thought to himself, Well, thats the last time hell give me <acn></acn>an <acn></acn>order for one while! 
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