of an early and abundant produce. Emma went every day to visit the field, more interesting to her than the garden of the Hesperides and its golden fruit. But soon even this resource failed, and ennui began to dim the brightness of her beautiful eyes. She forsook the growing turnips for a gloomy grove of firs, sauntering listlessly along the banks of a clear streamlet, into whose silver current she scattered flowers, that were quickly borne away into the gulfs of the Odergrund. Now whoever has any experience in matters of love, well knows that to have constant recourse to so melancholy an amusement, denotes some secret sorrow of the heart.
The Gnome could not fail to observe, that in spite of all the tenderness he manifested for Emma, in spite of his never-ceasing earnest attentions, he had hitherto made no progress in her heart. But far from being discouraged, he redoubled his efforts to please, doing his best to anticipate her every wish. Why should he despair of the conquest of the fair one? Inexperienced as he was in love affairs, he deemed that all the difficulties which he had to encounter were no more than the usual results of terrestrial custom in such matters; and gifted with that delicacy and refinement which is the birth-right of spirits, he felt that the resistance opposed to him was not without its charm, and would render his delayed triumph only the more glorious and
