He now knew what he had to hope, and could easily solve the preblem which remained inexplicable to the wise inhabitants of Bremen. Love had converted the profligate youth into a clever musician, but unluckily, that character was not a very powerful recommendation for a suitor in those times, it being neither so much honoured, nor so well paid as at present. The fine arts were not then the handmaids of affluence and prosperity, but confined their votaries to poverty and want. No other travelling musicians were then known, but Bohemian students, whose noisy shrill symphonies solicited alms at the doors of the opulent. A serenade was all Frank had to give, and the beloved maiden had made too great a sacrifice, for him to be rewarded by it only. At this time the thought of his former behaviour became a thorn in his bosom. Many a monologue he began, with execrations against his own madness. Oh Mela, Mela! he sighed, why did I not know you before, you would have been my protecting angel, and might have saved me from ruin.
Could I recall my lost years, could I be once
