LETTER XLI.
DEAR:--
To-day we came to Frankfort, and this afternoon we have been driving
out to see the lions, and in the first place the house where Goethe
was born. Over the door, you remember, was the family coat of arms.
Well, while we were looking I perceived that a little bird had
accommodated the crest of the coat to be his own family residence, and
was flying in and out of a snug nest wherewith he had crowned it.
Little fanciful, feathery amateur! could nothing suit him so well as
Goethe's coat of arms? I could fancy the little thing to be the poet's
soul come back to have a kind of breezy hovering existence in this
real world of ours--to sing, and perch, and soar; for I think you told
me that his principal grace and characteristic was an exquisite
perception and expression of physical beauty. Goethe's house was a
very grand one for the times, was it not? Now a sign in the window
tells us it is used as a manufactory of porcelain.
Then we drove through the Jews' quarters. You remember how queer and
old they look; they have been much modernized since you were there.
_Cocher_ stopped before one house, and said something in German
about Rothschild, which C.
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