CHAPTER 1

"Know that the love of thyself doth hurt thee more than any thing in the world.... Forsake thyself, resign thyself, and thou shalt enjoy much inward peace!"—THOMAS À KEMPIS.

"But I must have him!"

"All right. For my part I shall take care not to run after the bones of a mole!"

    These last words were spoken by a tall stripling student, about seventeen years old. His natural and elegant mien evidently did not belong to the precincts of a village schoolmaster—his thoughts still less so. Just now he lay indolently reclining on a bank of verdure, and, after looking around on all sides, stealthily drew from his pocket a book, which bore the label of a free library in an adjacent town.

    "Arnold! Arnold! I've got him!" exclaimed the voice which had first spoken, after a brief pause. It belonged to a sixteen-years-old companion who held up to view, triumphantly, a mole, while he repeated with a countenance aglow with enthusiasm: "I've got him!"

"Then you've got a great thing," retorted Arnold, sneeringly; "meanwhile he also has captured his princess," pointing significantly to the book in his hand.

"He had almost escaped me," continued the first speaker; "but I caught him just in the nick of time. See, a splendid mole!"

"A splendid book," snarled Arnold. "This is the third time I have brought it here."

"Won't you see how I dissect the fellow? He is a famous example——"

  "Yes; full-blooded, noble English blood! Pfui!" he interrupted as he turned to his comrade, who was beginning to cut the creature into sections. "Pfui! you slaughterer! When you shall have dissected him, you will discover the miracle of having no heart in your own body."

"But Arnold," Wulf maintained, "I must know how he looks inside."

  Arnold shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, when footsteps were heard. The book was suddenly plunged into his pocket, and the reader became apparently absorbed in the contemplation of the mole.

   An older man approached the young students. It was Herr Ericksen, the village teacher, at whose house both lads lived. In an earnest tone he said to Arnold: "Have you finished your task?"

The youth replied hesitatingly, "Not altogether," and comprehending a significant glance from the inquirer, he turned away.

The teacher stood still some minutes, gazing at Wulf in his zealous occupation. An expression of pain passed over his kindly face. Then laying his hand on the boy's shoulder, he said: "Leave your mole, Wulf; come, I wish to talk to you."

Wulf was startled by his uncle's unusual gravity.

"What has happened?" he exclaimed.

   "Nothing has happened, my child," replied the master; "but what I have to tell you is a difficult duty for me. You know how much I love you; you understood that; as a child you clung to me when I visited your father's house, while your brothers cared little for me, but tumbled about in the boats on the water. You know, too, Wulf, how you always wanted to discover what was inside of every thing, mussel and snail, animal and flower. Other people deplored this love of investigation, and declared it was a pleasure for you to destroy, but your old uncle recognized the thirst for knowledge. Who was the happier, you or I, when your father consented, eventually, for you to come home with me to study, and when you gave fine promise of becoming a physician in time?"

"Yes, uncle, and——"

"But see, my boy," continued the old man; "this may not be, after all."

"Why not?" asked Wulf, warmly.

    "Listen quietly to me," said the uncle persuasively; "I will tell you all. Later, when your brothers died I feared the result, but when, before a year had elapsed, your father perished, I felt assured that your mother would call you home. I have remonstrated with her, and argued that you are not fitted for a sailor's life, and that your heart is in your books; but she can not comprehend why an only son should not follow in his father's footsteps without going contrary to the duty he owes his mother. She is an excellent, sensible woman; but such a departure as you propose is wholly incomprehensible to her."

Wulf turned deathly pale and was silent. After a pause he said with emotion:

"Uncle, do you think she is right?"

"Well, from her stand-point," was the reply; "but I am an old school-master, and every one must judge for himself."

"O, uncle, I do not think it is my duty to go there. Shall I, must I go?"

"Yes, you must go; your mother desires it."

"I love my mother dearly, but I think she should give me liberty to choose my calling. Why should that business be continued? If we are not so well off in worldly matters, we certainly have enough to live on."

"But not enough for you to study. A medical course is expensive."

"O," cried Wulf, "I will take care of myself at the university; and can't the servant at home manage every thing there? He is a far more useful man than I am."

"He is old. How many years can he be depended upon?"

"Until I become a doctor and earn money enough for all."

  The two continued their conversation a long while. At last the elder so far succeeded in his argument, that the younger recognized his duty to obey his mother, although the conclusion was reached through burning tears, and Wulf could not change the "I must" honestly into "I wish."

   He gave no further thought to the mole, but went to his room and sat there for a time as one stunned. He could eat no supper. The old school-master's heart was also depressed beyond measure.

    Naturally enough, Arnold had learned what had befallen his companion. If it had chanced to be his fate to turn his back upon books and study he would have rejoiced; but the prospect of descending to a low sailor's life—such a change could only be contemplated with pity.

    Arnold Von Kahring was the son of a distinguished baron, who resided at Berlin. He was also an only son. But it is to be regretted that in no way did he fulfill his parent's expectations. He was naturally phlegmatic, and haughty from a sense of pride which his mother had early instilled and nourished on account of his position and birth. The baron himself had very little concern about his son.

   Arnold had been sent to school; but, in the opinion of his parents, blame of every kind could only be attached to his instructors; hence the schools were frequently changed. All said he had good ability, but he was too indolent to exercise it.

   But while he acquired his Latin imperfectly, he was an apt scholar in the temptations of city life, and bad companions were not wanting. This was made apparent to his father and mother upon the occasion of their "young hopeful" being brought home wounded in "an affair of honor."

   "Sent to some celebrated educational institute," was the comment of the Kahring's circle of friends, while in reality he was in the country with a good man, who was directed to teach him obedience and the art of labor. In this wise the two youths had come to Herr Ericksen, a man of high intellectual force and culture, such as one is apt to find among village pedagogues, and a man admirably adapted in every way to train and guide growing lads.

  In this quiet home Arnold painfully missed the pleasures of Berlin, and often related wonderful things concerning this distant paradise to Wulf, who had never seen a large city. Wulf had sometimes dreamed over these glowing descriptions of joys and pleasures; but he was too happy in his books, animals, and experiments to permit these distant attractions to gain possession of him by useless longings. Besides, what really seemed most desirable in city life to Wulf had no charm for Arnold; and yet he felt that life would have its true beginning for him in the struggles of a metropolis.

And now every thing had become so changed!

  Arnold pitied Wulf with all his heart, but Wulf did not care for his compassion. Once having made the decision, he declined to be commiserated, and preferred not to talk on the subject.

"I shall see you in Berlin yet," said Arnold, "with a roll under your arm and a surgical case in your pocket, walking solemnly to a hospital in order to cut up dead men; while I, in the uniform of an ensign, shall be tortured to death by living beings around me."

On the following day Wulf begged his uncle to fix the hour of his departure. "Since I go unwillingly," he said, "who knows whether I shall have the courage to go at all a week hence?"

Herr Ericksen appreciated the lad's conflicting resolution and desire.

"Let it be in the morning, then."

"Good! in the morning," responded Wulf, "early; as soon as it is light, then."

When the old school-master returned home that evening after a short walk, a peculiar odor greeted him.

Wulf stood with glowing face by the little kitchen hearth, which flashed and bubbled and flamed, while fragments of boxes, bottles, and flasks were strewn around.

"Wulf! what in the world are you doing?"

"Away with the stuff!" he exclaimed. "I can not bear to see it any longer."

"What! your books, your collections, your manuscripts?"

"Uncle, I burn my ship behind me."

  "Poor child!" and pressing him to his heart, tears stood in old Ericksen's eyes, as he added soothingly: "The Fifth Commandment is often-times very difficult to obey; but it is God's law, and it shall surely be well with thee, for the promise is given, 'Thy days shall be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.'"

  The next morning a young man walked away with decisive step, a bundle on his back, his face turned to the north. The birds sang cheerily, but he heard them not. He walked rapidly, as though he would fly from the past, and even from himself.