This song was often in his mouth， and he sung or whistled it on a moonlight night， whenhe rode on horseback along the deep， hollow way， on his road to Weimar， to visit Molly. Hewished to arrive unexpectedly， and so indeed he did. He was received with a heartywelcome， and introduced to plenty of grand and pleasant company， where overflowingwinecups were passed about. A pretty room and a good bed were provided for him， and yethis reception was not what he had expected and dreamed it would be. He could notcomprehend his own feelings nor the feelings of others; but it is easily understood how aperson can be admitted into a house or a family without becoming one of them. We conversein company with those we meet， as we converse with our fellow-travellers in a stage-coach，on a journey; we know nothing of them， and perhaps all the while we are incommoding oneanother， and each is wishing himself or his neighbor away. Something of this kind Anthony feltwhen Molly talked to him of old times.
“I am a straightforward girl，” she said， “and I will tell you myself how it is. there havebeen GREat changes since we were children together; everything is different， both inwardlyand outwardly. We cannot control our wills， nor the feelings of our hearts， by the force ofcustom. Anthony， I would not， for the world， make an enemy of you when I am far away.Believe me， I entertain for you the kindest wishes in my heart; but to feel for you what I nowknow can be felt for another man， can never be. You must try and reconcile yourself to this.Farewell， Anthony.”
Anthony also said， “Farewell.” Not a tear came into his eye; he felt he was no longerMolly‘s friend. Hot iron and cold iron alike take the skin from our lips， and we feel the samesensation if we kiss either; and Anthony’s kiss was now the kiss of hatred， as it had oncebeen the kiss of love. Within four-and-twenty hours Anthony was back again to Eisenach，though the horse that he rode was entirely ruined.
“What matters it?” said he; “I am ruined also. I will destroy everything that can remind meof her， or of Lady Halle， or Lady Venus， the heathen woman. I will break down the apple-tree， and tear it up by the roots; never more shall it blossom or bear fruit.”
the apple-tree was not broken down; for Anthony himself was struck with a fever， whichcaused him to break down， and confined him to his bed. But something occurred to raise himup again. What was it? A medicine was offered to him， which he was obliged to take： a bitterremedy， at which the sick body and the oppressed spirit alike shuddered. Anthony‘s fatherlost all his property， and， from being known as one of the richest merchants， he becamevery poor. Dark days， heavy trials， with poverty at the door， came rolling into the houseupon them like the waves of the sea. Sorrow and suffering deprived Anthony’s father of hisstrength， so that he had something else to think of besides nursing his love-sorrows and hisanger against Molly. He had to take his father‘s place， to give orders， to act with energy， tohelp， and， at last， to go out into the world and earn his bread. Anthony went to Bremen，and there he learnt what poverty and hard living really were. These things often harden thecharacter， but sometimes soften the heart， even too much.
How different the world， and the people in it， appeared to Anthony now， to what he hadthought in his childhood! What to him were the minstrel‘s songs? An echo of the past，sounds long vanished. At times he would think in this way; yet again and again the songswould sound in his soul， and his heart become gentle and pious.
“God‘s will is the best，” he would then say. “It was well that I was not allowed to keep mypower over Molly’s heart， and that she did not remain true to me. How I should have felt itnow， when fortune has deserted me! She left me before she knew of the change in mycircumstances， or had a thought of what was before me. That is a merciful providence for me.All has happened for the best. She could not help it， and yet I have been so bitter， and insuch enmity against her.”
Years passed by： Anthony‘s father died， andstrangers lived in the old house. He had seen it onceagain since then. His rich master sent him journeyson business， and on one occasion his way led himto his native town of Eisenach. The old Wartburgcastle stood unchanged on the rock where the monkand the nun were hewn out of the stone. The GREatoaks formed an outline to the scene which he sowell remembered in his childhood. The Venusmountain stood out gray and bare， overshadowingthe valley beneath. He would have been glad to callout “Lady Halle， Lady Halle， unlock the mountain. I would fain remain here always in my nativesoil.” That was a sinful thought， and he offered a prayer to drive it away. Then a little bird inthe thicket sang out clearly， and old Anthony thought of the minstrel’s song. How much cameback to his remembrance as he looked through the tears once more on his native town! Theold house was still standing as in olden times， but the garden had been greatly altered; apathway led through a portion of the ground， and outside the garden， and beyond thepath， stood the old apple-tree， which he had not broken down， although he talked of doingso in his trouble. The sun still threw its rays upon the tree， and the refreshing dew fell upon itas of old; and it was so overloaded with fruit that the branches bent towards the earth withthe weight. “That flourishes still，” said he， as he gazed. One of the branches of the tree had，however， been broken： mischievous hands must have done this in passing， for the treenow stood in a public thoroughfare. “The blossoms are often plucked，” said Anthony; “thefruit is stolen and the branches broken without a thankful thought of their profusion andbeauty. It might be said of a tree， as it has been said of some men—it was not predicted athis cradle that he should come to this. How brightly began the history of this tree， and what isit now? Forsaken and forgotten， in a garden by a hedge in a field， and close to a publicroad. There it stands， unsheltered， plundered， and broken. It certainly has not yetwithered; but in the course of years the number of blossoms from time to time will grow less，and at last it was cease altogether to bear fruit; and then its history will be over.”