TWELTH BOOK.
The wanderer had now at last reached home, — more healthy and cheerful than on the first occasion, but still in his whole being there appeared something overstrained, which did not fully indicate mental health. At the very first I put my mother into such a position, that, between my father's sincere spirit of order and my own various eccentricities, she was forced to occupy herself with bringing passing events into a certain medium. At Mayence a boy playing the harp had so well pleased me, that, as the fair was close at hand, I invited him to Frankfort, and promised to give him lodging and to encourage him. In this occurrence appeared once more that peculiarity which has cost me so much in my lifetime; namely, that I liked to see younger people gather around me, and attach themselves to me, by which, indeed, I am at last encumbered with their fate. One unpleasant experience after another could not reclaim me from this innate impulse, which, even at present, and in spite of the clearest conviction, threatens from time to time to lead me astray. My mother, being more clear-sighted than I, plainly foresaw how strange it would seem to my father, if a musical fair-vagabond went from such a respectable house to taverns and drinking-houses to earn his bread. Hence she found him with board and lodging in the neighbourhood. I recommended him to my friends, and thus the lad did not fare badly. After several years I saw him again, when he had grown taller and more clumsy, without having ad-
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