THIRTEENTH BOOK.
It had been agreed with Merck, that in the fine season we should meet at Coblentz at Frau von Laroche's. I sent to Frankfort my baggage, and what- ever I might want on my way down the Lahn, by an opportunity which offered, and now wandered down that beautiful river, so lovely in its windings, so various in its shores, free as to my resolution, but oppressed as to my feelings, — in a condition when the presence of silently hving nature is so beneficial to us. My eye, accustomed to discern those beauties of a land- scape that suited the painter, and were above him, rioted in the contemplation of near and distant objects, of bushy rocks, of sunny heights, of damp valleys, of enthroned castles, and of the blue range of mountains inviting us from the distance.
I wandered on the right bank of the river, which at some depth and distance below me, and partly con- cealed by a rich bush of willows, glided along in the sunlight. Then again arose in me the old wish, worthily to imitate such objects. By chance I had a handsome pocket-knife in my left hand ; and at the moment, from the depth of my soul, arose, as it were, an absolute command, according to which, without delay, I was to fling this knife into the river. If I saw it fall, my wish to become an artist would be ful- filled ; but if the sinking of the knife was concealed by the overhanging bush of willows, I was to abandon the wish and the endeavour. This whim had no sooner arisen in me than it was executed. For without re-
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