At the funeral of a woodcutter from Irresberg, with whom we had been having a drink in the tavern just three days before and from whom we had learned so much more about the countryside and the people immediately around us than we had from anybody else, we were, in the nature of things, more thoughtful than at other funerals. How could it be that more associations and, above all, more complex ones could all at once be brought to light by such a simple person than by others whom we had considered not simple but complex? The woodcutter, who had been known to us for decades and with whom we had been on friendly terms, as we are with almost all the woodcutters in the neighborhood, had throughout these decades scarcely ever expressed himself as openly as he did on what was, for him, his last evening in the tavern; all at once his accounts revealed a different countryside and different people and are now for us the only authentic ones. The man had spent several hours explaining his world and, indeed, the world and had, after presenting his explanations to us, fallen silent again at what we thought was the appropriate time for him. On his way home, however, he had fallen into the Aurach and drowned. Some schoolchildren had found him. The principal of the school gave a short speech at his graveside and said that his friend the woodcutter had been a natural human being.