doubt that it was some place or other.  There a shepherd or herdsman lived, who was pretty well advanced in years, but still looked strong and robust; he was unmarried and well-to-do, and lived happily.  But before telling you the story, I must not forget to say that this man had a most astounding voice when he spoke; he terrified people when he spoke!  Well! to make my tale as short as possible, you must know that he had a dog called Bellot, a very handsome large dog, white with black spots.  Well! this shepherd was going along with his sheep, for he had a flock of eleven thousand under his care, and he had a staff in his hand, with a pretty rose-colored topknot of ribbons, for he never went out without his staff; such was his invariable custom.  Now to proceed; being tired, after having gone a couple of miles, he sat down on a bank beside a river to rest.  At last he fell asleep, when he dreamt that he had lost all his sheep, and this fear awoke him, but to his great joy he saw his flock close beside him.  At length he got up again and went on, but not for long; indeed, half an hour could scarcely have elapsed, when he came to a bridge which was very long, but with a parapet on both sides to prevent any one falling into the river.  Well; he looked at his flock, and as he was obliged to cross the bridge, he began to drive over his eleven thousand sheep.  Now be so obliging as to wait till the eleven thousand sheep are all safely across, and then I will finish the story.  I already told you that the result is not yet known; I hope, however, that by the time I next write to you, all the sheep will have crossed the bridge; but if not, why should I care?  So far as I am concerned, they might all have stayed on this side.  In the meantime you must accept the story so far as it goes; what I really know to be true I have written, and it is better to stop now than to tell you what is false, for in that case you would probably have discredited the whole, whereas now you will only disbelieve one half.

I must conclude, but don’t think me rude; he who begins must cease, or the world would have no peace.  My compliments to every friend, welcome to kiss me without end, forever and a day, till good sense comes my way; and a fine kissing that will be, which frightens you as well as me.  Adieu, ma chere cousine!  I am, I was, I have been, oh! that I were, would to heavens I were!  I will or shall be, would, could, or should be—­what?—­A blockhead!  W. A. M.

98.

Mannheim, March 7, 1778.

I have received your letter on the 26th February, and am much obliged to you for all the trouble you have taken about the arias, which are quite accurate in every respect.  “Next to God comes papa” was my axiom when a child, and I still think the same.  You are right when you say that “knowledge is power”; besides, except your trouble and fatigue, you will have no cause for regret, as Madlle.  Weber certainly deserves your kindness.  I only