more years sped swiftly and tranquilly away. ernest still dwelt in his native valley, and was now a man of middle age. by imperceptible degrees, he had become known among the people. now, as heretofore, he labored for his bread, and was the same simple-hearted man that he had always been. but he had thought and felt so much, he had given so many of the best hours of his life to unworldly hopes for some great good to mankind, that it seemed as though he had been talking with the angels, and had imbibed a portion of their wisdom unawares. it was visible in the calm and well-considered beneficence of his daily life, the quiet stream of which had made a wide green margin all along its course. not a day passed by, that the world was not the better because this man, humble as he was, had lived. he never stepped aside from his own path, yet would always reach a blessing to his neighbor. almost involuntarily too, he had become a preacher. the pure and high simplicity of his thought, which, as one of its manifestations, took shape in the good deeds that dropped silently from his hand, flowed also forth in speech.