Front Cover
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Chapter I: Alfred's foolish...
 Chapter II: Journey in the...
 Chapter III: Lost in the fores...
 Chapter IV: Forest scenes
 Chapter V: Bernard in the city
 Chapter VI: Each one in his right...
 Back Cover

Title: Alfred and Bernard, or, Every one in his own place
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00028245/00001
 Material Information
Title: Alfred and Bernard, or, Every one in his own place
Alternate Title: Every one in his own place
Physical Description: 64 p., 1 leaf of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 15 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Gall & Inglis ( Publisher )
Publisher: Gall & Inglis
Place of Publication: London ;
Publication Date: [1876?]
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Contentment -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Parent and child -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1876   ( rbprov )
Bldn -- 1876
Genre: Prize books (Provenance)   ( rbprov )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Scotland -- Edinburgh
General Note: Date of publication from prize plate.
General Note: Frontispiece printed in colors.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00028245
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002221664
notis - ALG1891
oclc - 61118058

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Page 1
    Title Page
        Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Chapter I: Alfred's foolish fancies
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
    Chapter II: Journey in the Hartz
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
    Chapter III: Lost in the forest
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
    Chapter IV: Forest scenes
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    Chapter V: Bernard in the city
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
    Chapter VI: Each one in his right place
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


uiundan .rhool.

geu. 8. R. nti l.,

Fa. .- For Rrepgvr Ai.IaarUsr uvr'! G.-J L aodu' t.
Jarnuala 187
J. I t.MPLh..,' r(re..n' y

The Baldwmn Lbrary
RmB n-

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The charcoal burner took Alfred to his hut, where his
wife was preparing their simple dinner, p. 82.



C '- ,1I (I, L I) iln O w Iih 'i (.I'

"Be content with such things as ye have."-HEB. xiii. 6.
"I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be
content "-PHIL. iv. 11.

pAuE OnR: ebinburgh:





Be content with such things as ye have."-HEB.
xiii. 5.

LFREDwas the only son of a
rich merchant, Mr. Brockhausen,
of Bremen, an old German
town, situated on the river Weser, which
divides it into two parts; the old town
with its large suburbs, containing hand-
some mansions and villas, being on the
right bank, and the new town on the
left. It has an extensive trade, both
with foreign countries and with the
interior of Germany, being the emporium
of the countries watered by the river

Mr. Brockhausen was the proprietor
of large premises in the business district
of Bremen. He had ships sailing to
every part of the world, bringing him
whale oil from the North and South Seas;
coffee, sugar, and tobacco, from the
Indies; and other valuable things, too
numerous to be mentioned. On the
right bank of the river he had a beautiful
villa with extensive grounds. He was a
kind-hearted liberal man, and a sincere
Christian. The Bible was the rule of his
daily life; it was, indeed, a lamp unto
his feet, and a light unto his path. He
was "not slothful in business, fervent
in spirit; serving the Lord." His life
was earnest, he obeyed the command-
"Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as
to the Lord." His religion was that
described by the Apostle James, "Pure
religion and undefiled before God and
the Father is this, To visit the fatherless
and widows in their affliction, and to
keep himself unspotted from the world."
In the midst of the toil and bustle of
business he had in his heart the "peace
of God, which passeth all understanding."


To him might be well applied the lines:
There are, in this loud stunning tide
Of human care and crime,
With whom the melodies abide
Of th' everlasting chime;
Who carry music in their heart,
Through dusky lane and wrangling mart,
Plying their daily task with busier feet,
Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat."
Though Mr. Brockhausen's name might
be seen in many a list of subscriptions
for charitable purposes, he did much
more good in private. He helped many
a lonely widow; he noticed many a youth,
who, without him, would have fallen for
want of a kindly helping hand; he
assisted in the education of many a
talented boy, who, without him, would
never have had the means to procure
Alfred was the only surviving child
of Mr. Brockhausen. Two brothers and
three sisters, delicate from their birth,
had been laid in the churchyard, while
still young. Alfred was his mother's
idol and darling, and was cared for and
pampered in every way, and she dreaded
so much that she might lose him, as she

had lost his brothers and sisters. Alfred
was a handsome, clever, intelligent boy,
fond of reading and of study, and obedient
to his parents; but he had one great
fault. He was a dreamer, a builder of
castles in the air. Not contented with
the happy home and bright prospects
that were his, he was always dreaming
and fancying that he would be better
elsewhere. This restlessness of mind in
Alfred was a source of sorrow to his
father and mother; but they wisely
thought that, to some extent at least, it
would be advisable to let the boy learn
by experience.
When he was about twelve years old,
his father gave him, as a birthday gift,
a beautiful illustrated copy of Robinson
Crusoe." Alfred was charmed with the
book-he realized the scenes it described
-he imagined himself with Robinson on
the desert island-he fancied how he
would have acted, what he would have
done. His admiration for Robinson
grew so excessive, that nothing would
please him but to be allowed to go and
'live a hermit life like Robinson Crusoe.

"Let him try it," said his sensible
father; let us allow him to make a hut
in a remote corner of the grounds. In
this warm summer weather, it will not
do him much harm to sleep out of doors
for a night; and I am quite sure that
the first heavy shower of rain will cure
him of his nonsense."
Accordingly, Alfred was allowed to
appropriate a piece of ground, as far as
possible from his father's house. He
was furnished with wood to make a fence
round his domain, in which there was an
old moss house which he chose to inhabit.
A bunch of straw and a blanket was
sent for his bed. He took with him a
goat to supply him with milk, because
Robinson had goats; his mother gave
him some biscuits and a loaf of bread,
telling him at the same time with a
smile, that the loaf was more than
Robinson had, and that in future he
must live on what he could grow in his
own ground.
Early in the morning Alfred took
possession of his enclosure, which he
called Robinson Island. The fist day

he was not very unhappy. He had
taken with him plenty of pieces of wood
and tools, and he was busy making
different necessary things for his hut.
Unfortunately, however, he found that
he could not milk the goat, it kicked
over his pail, and nearly overset him, so
he had nothing to take but bread and
water, with a few cresses from his garden.
At night he lay down to sleep in his
clothes. He did not like to undress to
lie on straw. He had been accustomed
to a bed of down in a warm room, and
he could not rest on his uneasy couch.
About ten o'clock, after he had gone to
try to rest, the sky darkened, and rain
fell heavily. The water soaked through
the roof of the old summer-house and
wet his blanket, the moisture came up
through the earthen floor and made his
couch of straw unbearable. Wet through,
miserable, and unable to sleep, he thought
of his comfortable room in the house.
He rose, and making his way through
the garden as well as he could in the
dark, he humbly knocked at the door of
his home, where he was received by his

kind mother, who had been expecting
him, and as his father had predicted,
his Robinson fancies were all washed out
of him by the heavy shower of rain.
For some time he seemed contented,
till a book of adventures at sea came
into his hands. "Run away to sea,"
was a title so pleasant, that he could not
resist the wish to imitate the hero of the
story. He resolved that he would be a
sailor. He had been out in a boat on
the smooth water of the Weser in fine
weather, but that was too tame for his
enthusiastic dreams.
"I want to have adventures," said he
to his father. "I should like to be out
in a storm. It is no fun sailing in
smooth water. Let me see the waves
like mountains high, breaking over the
ship, which quivers as they strike the
deck; let me see the torn sail and the
breaking mast; let me hear the roar of
the tempest, the howling of the wind,
and the shriek of the wild sea bird in
the storm."
"It is very well to read about storms
and tempests," said his father, drily;

"but I am not at all sure that you
would like to be at sea in a storm.
However, as you wish so much for a sea
voyage, I have no objection to take you
with me to Heligoland. You can then
decide if you would like to go to a
greater distance."
The group of small islands, known as
Heligoland, is situated about 28 miles
from the mouth of the river Weser. It
consists of the principal island, subdivided
into the cliff and the low land; the
smaller island called the Down, and
several sand banks and rocks. Heligoland
was taken from the Danes by the British
in 1807, and it still belongs to Britain.
Alfred and his father sailed in a small
vessel bound for Heligoland. At first the
weather was fine and the sea was smooth,
but this did not please Alfred. "I want
to see a storm," he said; I don't care for
smooth sailing."
I think the young gentleman will get
his wish," said the Captain of the vessel,
who had overheard what Alfred said;
"there are some dark clouds to the east
that seem to foretell a storm."

The Captain went to give orders to his
crew to have everything in readiness to
meet the blast, leaving Alfred and his
father on deck. Soon afterwards the
storm arose,-the wind howled, the waves
washed over the little vensel. Alfred
might have been seriously injured by the
waters if his father had not held him
Have you not had enough of this, my
boy?" asked he; "won't you go down now
to the cabin?"
Oh no! father," said Alfred; let me
stay on deck and see the storm."
His father yielded to his wish; but soon
the boy turned deadly pale,-he was very
ill,-sick, even like death.
"Oh! father! father!" cried he; "what
is this ? I am very, very ill; I fear I am
going to die."
No, no, not so bad as that," said the
cheerful voice of the Captain; "you are
only sea-sick, young gentleman, you will
be well as soon as we reach the land."
"No, no, I am dying, I am sure I am
dying," shrieked the miserable Alfred.
His father did all he could to comfort


and soothe the unhappy boy, and both
father and son were glad when the vessel
entered the harbour at Heligoland. They
rested for a few days on the island.
Alfred had suffered so much from sea-
sickness, that he would not consent to
return home till the weather was fine,
with no prospect of a storm. His father
and he got home safely; but Alfred was
for ever cured of any wish to be a sailor.
For more than a year after his voyage
to Heligoland, Alfred seemed contented
in his quiet comfortable home, when a
new fancy seized him. He had been
reading an account of the Hartz Moun-
tains, of the forests, the grand scenery,
and the old castles, the dwarfs and the
fairies, and all the strange creatures that
are said to live in the forest. His im-
agination was so filled with the wonders
he read, that his sleeping and waking
dreams were to visit the Hartz Moun-
tains. He told his wish to his kind
mother, who was always ready to gratify
This is gloomy, cold November, my
boy," said she; you would not enjoy a

journey to the mountains at this season.
Have patience till your birthday next
summer, and then, perhaps, your father
may indulge you with a trip to the moun-
Alfred was obliged to wait; out he
comforted himself, and filled up the time
by reading every book he could find about
the mountains and the legends. Unfor-
tunately the books too often written for
children do not separate truth from fiction,
and poor Alfred was quite bewildered with
the varying accounts, as he scarcely knew
what to believe. This, however, only
made him more anxious to see and judge
for himself.
On the 10th of June, Alfred's four-
teenth birthday, he as usual received
many gifts from his loving parents.
These were spread upon a table when
he came down to breakfast in the morn-
ing. To his great delight he found a
n.- t l...rtmanteau, a bag with a strap to
wear over his shoulders, a knapsack, a
dressing-case small enough to go into the
knapsack, a long stick such as is used by
mountain travellers, and a small tele-


scope. These things were laid side by
side, and over them there was a slip of
paper, on which was written, Prepara-
tions for a journey to the Hartz."
Alfred was delighted. He warmly
thanked his kind parents; and all that
day he might have been heard singing
in the garden and the park, "A life in
the woods for me," as merrily as he had
formerly sung, A life on the ocean
Alfred had not yet learned that no-
thing earthly can give entire happiness,
that one thing is needful," and that if
we have that "one thing" we have all that
is necessary, whether we be poor or rich.

One thing's needful: then Lord Jesus,
Keep this one thing in my mind,
All beside, though first it please us,
Soon a grievous yoke we find:
Beneath it the heart is still fretting and striving,
No true lasting happiness ever deriving,
The gain of this one thing all loss can requite,
And tcach me in all things to find some delight."



0 Lord, how manifold are thy works in wisdom
hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy
riches."-Ps. civ. 24.

-N the following morning Mr. and
[ Mrs. Brockhausen and Alfred
left Bremen, on their way to
the Hartz. They had resolved to give
Alfred a holiday among the mountains
for some weeks. They had proposed to
stop in some of the principal towns on
the way, to see :.., f11 that was remark-
able; but Alfred said he did not care for
anything to be seen in cities, and earnestly
entreated them to travel on as fast as
possible to the mountains. He who had
lived all his life on a plain was delighted
when he saw for the first time the blue
outline of the mountains, and wished for

the wings of a bird, to be sooner among
The party travelled on till they reached
Ilsenburg, and took rooms in the inn
called the Rothe Forelle (red trout) so
named from the trout that are caught in
the river Ilse. They proposed to remain
for some time at this place, and to make
excursions in the neighbourhood.
The Hartz is the most northerly range
of mountains in Germany, and is about
seventy miles long, and from twenty to
twenty-eight broad. The Brocken is the
highest point of the mountains, and is
3543 feet above the level of the sea. In
some parts of the mountain snow lies
almost all the year round. From Ilsen-
burg to the Brocken is about six miles in
a direct line, but the distance by the
winding road is about twelve miles. The
valley of the Ise, on which Ilsenburg is
situated, is very beautiful. The scenery
is grand and wild, and the road passes
through dark woods occupied by charcoal
Mr. and Mrs. Brockhausen and Alfred
arrived at Ilsenburg late one evening, and

Alfred was too tired to see much of the
scenery. In the morning he was delighted
with the view which met his enraptured
eye. The weather was lovely, the air
pure, the sky clear. He gazed with
pleasure upon the dark trees and huge
masses of rock covered with green moss,
and the clear waters of the Ilse flowing
along its pebbly bed, and sometimes dash-
ing over the rocks in sheets of foam.
Alfred was anxious to go to the
Brocken, and mules were ordered for the
party. The ascent was at first not very
steep, but extremely beautiful. Alfred
was charmed with the lofty trees, the
bright flowers by the wayside, and the
singing of the birds. The voice of the
cuckoo, which he had not before heard,
was re-echoed from rock to rock.
The silvery sound of bells was heard
deep in the wood, and to Alfred's great
surprise a herd of cattle crossed the road
with bells fastened round their necks by
broad leather straps. They seemed to
have come from a solitary mill in the
valley, and were being driven to feed on
the fresh green pastures higher up on the

mountain. As the party approached the
Brocken, the scenery was more wild and
picturesque,-a region of hills and valleys
covered with pine woods. There was the
sound of roaring torrents which were not
visible. The guide told Alfred that the
course of the Ilse at that place went for a
long way under ground.
The inn at the top of the Brocken is
a lonely, dreary place, the highest habit-
able spot in Germany. Alfred was anxious
to see the spectre of the Brocken about
which he had read, but he was told that
it only appears at sunset or at sunrise,
when the mist is rising from the valley.
" The shadow of the Brocken," says a
traveller, is then thrown on the wall of
fog, and every thing and person abroad is
shown in a gigantic form, which is in-
creased or decreased as the fog is driven
farther off or approaches nearer. If the
fog is dry, you see not only yourself, but
your neighbour; if very damp, only your-
self, surrounded by a rainbow-coloured
glory, which becomes more lustrous and
beautiful the damper and thicker the fog
is, and the nearer it approaches. On a


raw fog in winter the appearance assumes
another form. It assumes then not a
circular glory, but three clusters of radia-
tions proceed from the head; one from
each temple, and one upright. These
are of deep yellow-clear, luminous, and
sharply defined. This glory is the most
splendid in the coldest weather; and then
the particles of mist are frozen in the air,
the radiations appear studded with dia-
monds, so intensely brilliant that the eye
cannot long bear them.
On the bright June day, when Alfred
and his parents ascended the Brocken,
there was no hope that the spectre"
(as it is called) would be seen; but as
the sky was unusually clear, they had a
view of a wonderful scene. It is thus
described by one who visited it:-
Around and below were mountains,
glens full of black pine, green valleys
running down here and there, with flash-
ing waters and clustered cottages gleam-
ing white in the distance. And beyond,
far around as the eye could reach, lay
spread the immeasurable plains, with
their smoking cities and towns and




villages, rivers winding and glowing
bright like silver, and here and there
grey ridges of distant mountains, with
naked rocks and castles abruptly hoisted
in the sky."
Alfred was mute with admiration as
he gazed upon the magnificent view, so
new to him.
How glorious this is he said.
Yes," said his mother; "all the works
of the Lord are glorious. But how
many people look at the beauties of
nature, and forget to look up to nature's
God. The landscape has its praise,
but not its author.' I hope, my dear
Alfred, that this will not be the case
with you. We have always tried to
teach you to see the goodness, wisdom,
and love of God, as shown in the works
of His hands."
"Two great books are open before us,"
said Mr. Brockhausen, "the book of nature
and the book of Revelation. The one
explains the other. In God's word, we
find the lessons He means to teach us
by what we see around us. Whoever
loves to read one of these books, because


God made it, will love to read the other,
and find God it it."
"While we remain in this beautiful
place," said Mrs. Brockhausen, I should
like Alfred to read the lessons of Scrip-
ture about natural things, flowers and
woods, rocks, rivers, and mountains. It
will be a useful study, and one that, so
learned, he will never forget. Remember
the beautiful lines-
"If in the field I meet a smiling flower,
Methinks it whispers, 'God created me,
And I to Him devote my little hour,
In lovely sweetness and humility.'
If where the forest's darkest shadows lower,
A serpent quick and venomous to see,
It seems to say, 'I too extol the power
Of Him who caused me at His will to be.'
The fountain purling, and the river strong,
The rocks, the trees, the mountains, raise one
Glory to God !' re-echoes in mine ear;
Faithless were I, in wilful error blind.
Did I not Him, in all his creatures find,
His voice through heaven and earth and ocean
After the party had dined in the inn,
they prepared to return to Ilsenburg.
They sent on the mules, and walked part
of the way. What a glorious place

this is, father," said Alfred. I hope you
will not now think me foolish for having
wished to come here. What could be
more delightful than to live always
among these woods and mountains?"
It is delightful indeed to enjoy the
glorious view which we have seen to-
day," said Mr. Brockhausen. It is
refreshing to have a holiday in the woods
among the beauties of nature. But, my
dear boy, there are two sides to the picture.
If you were to see these scenes in the
winter storms, you would not like them
so well. Besides, remember, life is
earnest. We have duties to do here on
earth. We are not sent to dream away
our lives in enjoyment. We have work
to do."
I know that, father," replied Alfred;
" we must all work. But suppose Iwere to
be a charcoal burner, a forester, or a game-
keeper, could I not do work, and at
the same time enjoy a life in the woods?"
So you might," replied his father,
" if you had been born and brought up
among the woods. You, who have been
accustomed to luxury, and who, besides,


have not a strong constitution, are quite
unfit for a life in the woods. You are
not strong enough to be a charcoal
burner. It is my opinion that every
man ought to learn and labour truly to
get his own living, and to do his duty in
that state of life in which it has pleased
God to place him. It is your vocation
to tread in my footsteps, and ultimately
to take my place in the counting-house.
This is my wish for you; and be assured
that you will be happier if you allow me
to judge for you. Your life work is in
the city; and if you do your duty there
well, you will enjoy all the more your
holidays in the woods."
"Might I not at least try how I
should like the life in the woods ?" asked
His father laughed, and his mother
said, smiling, "It would end like your
former experiments, my dear, when you
wanted to play Robinson Crusoe, and to
go to sea. Your father is right, and you
ought to give up your foolish fancies, and
take his advice."
Alfred was silenced, but not convinced;


and when he was alone with his mother,
he resumed the subject.
I know that it is my duty to do
what my father wishes," said he; but
why does he ask me to go into his
counting-house in the city, instead of
enjoying a life in the woods?"
When I was young, Alfred," said his
mother, one of the first lessons I learned,
was to obey without asking why. It
ought to be enough for you, that such is
your father's wish, and that your com-
plying with it would give him pleasure.
But I will try to explain the matter to
you. Our lot in life is appointed by
God Himself. As the Scripture says,
' The lot is cast into the lap; but the
whole disposing thereof is of the Lord.'
Your father and I both think that it is
best for every one to continue in the
place allotted to him by Providence.
The wise king says, in his maxims,
which are the best rules for men of busi-
ness, 'As a bird wandereth from her
nest, so is a man that wandereth from
his place.' The bird which forsakes its
nest,' says a learned man, 'leaves the


place where it had found repose, warmth,
and shelter, and thus is exposed to vari-
ous hardships and dangers. Every man
has his proper place in society, in which
he may be safe and comfortable; but
when, out of levity, discontent, avarice,
or ambition, he rashly quits it without
sufficient reasons, he generally changes
imaginary for real disquietudes.'"
Then do you think a person should
never change his employment? asked
I am far from thinking so," said his
mother. "There are many cases in
which it is both prudent and right for
a man to change his situation or employ-
ment, but then he will do it on good
grounds and with deliberation. That is
very different from the unsettled, roving,
dissatisfied spirit, which I am sorry to
say I see in you, and which I hope you
will try to overcome. In your case, it
is quite clear that your delicate constitu-
tion, your liability to attacks of fever,
and your habits in every way make you
very unfit for a life of exposure and hard
work. So let me hear no more of it,

dear Alfred; try to put it out of your
I will try, mother," said Alfred, rather
doubtfully; but still he thought and
dreamed of it.




"The way of a fool is right in his cwn eyes; but
he that hearkeneth unto counsel is wise."-PRov.
xii. 15.

N the morning after his journey
to the Brocken, Alfred was up
by sunrise. He had seen the
smoke of the charcoal burners' fires as
he passed through the woods, and he
was determined to see their way of life,
if possible. He went out before any one
in the inn was up, except a solitary
waiter, with whom he left a message for
his mother, 1. ...:. her not to be uneasy
about him, as he had gone for a walk,
but that he would return before dinner.
He went down to the bank of the Ilse,
and scrambled along by the side of the
river. The sun was shining brightly,

the birds were singing, the many-coloured
butterflies hovered before the eyes of the
delighted city boy, who imagined himself
in Fairyland, and half expected to see
an elf appear from behind the moss-
covered rocks. The timid hare started
at his feet, the shy roe-deer peeped
fearlessly at him through the trees.
" Oh if I might live here always," said
he, I would tame these lovely creatures,
and make them my companions."
On, on he went, till at length he
heard the distant sound of a woodman's
axe. That must be a charcoal burner
cutting wood," thought he, and he went
in the direction from which the sound
proceeded. This obliged him to leave
the bank of the river. "No matter,"
said he to himself; if I find the char-
coal burner, he will show me the way
His way was now more .lit,.. t,
through thick brushwood, up steep cliffs,
which be had to climb on hands and
knees, till at last he was stopped by a
broad stream. Through this he tried to
wade; but, unaccustomed to the slippery

stones, he fell, and was wet through.
He shook his dripping clothes,-what
cared he for a wetting in a warm summer
day; so, still he followed the sound of
the axe till it stopped suddenly. The
charcoal burners have gone to breakfast,"
said he; "but I will find them; they
cannot now be far off." He wandered
about for a long time; he called aloud,
and only the echo replied to his call.
He rested for a while on the grass, and
then again wandered on.
Faint, hungry, and weary, he once
more heard the welcome sound of the
axe, and saw smoke rising in the distance.
He hastened on, and at last he came in
sight of a charcoal burner, busy at his
pile. A dog barked and ran at him,
and Alfred uttered a cry of terror. The
man turned and called off the dog.
"Who are you, young gentleman?" said
he; and what are you doing here ?"
"I am Alfred Brockhausen, from
Bremen; I have lost my way in the
woods, I am hungry and weary-if you
will kindly give me something to eat, I
can pay you well," said Alfred, proudly;

for he had a well-filled purse in his
"You must wait a little," said the
charcoal burner; "it is not time for
dinner, and my old woman will have
nothing ready. You may rest in the
meantime, and your clothes will get
dried if you sit near the pile."
Alfred lay down on the grass and
watched the charcoal burner at his work,
in which he was helped by his son, a
boy about a year older than Alfred.
The wood had been built up in a huge
pile, covered with earth and turf, and then
set on fire. The man watched it, and
whenever smoke or flame appeared from
any part of the pile, he threw more earth
or turf over the place, so that all the
wood might be charred equally. Alfred
was much interested in the sight; yet he
felt so hungry, that he was very glad
when the man said that it was now time
for dinner.
The charcoal burner took Alfred to
his hut, where his wife was preparing
their simple dinner. "I hope you have
enough to give this young gentleman a

share," said he, addressing his wife;
" he has lost his way in the forest."
We have enough, such as it is; and
Bernard has caught a fine trout, which I
will cook," said she; "but the young
gentleman won't like our simple fare."
"No fear of that," said the charcoal
burner; "hunger is the best sauce."
The dinner consisted of dumplings
and stewed bilberries. A plate and a
separate spoon were given to Alfred, who
was first helped.
To his surprise, all the others ate out
of the same dish. "They give me a
separate plate to-day," thought he,
"because I am a stranger. If I lived
always with them, I should have to do
as they do." The idea was not pleasant;
however, he was so hungry that he liked
the fare, and the trout was excellent.
"The inn in which we are living is
called the Red Trout,'" said he; ",but
I have never yet tasted in it a trout so
good as this."
"Did not I tell you," said the char-
coal burner to his wife, that hunger is
the best sauce." L

While they were dining, the charcoal
burner asked many questions about
Alfred's father and mother, and whether
they knew of his absence. When Alfred
said that he had left a message that he
would be back at the inn at dinner, the
charcoal burner said that he felt sorry
that Alfred's parents would be uneasy
about him, and that he would send his
son Bernard to show him the way to
"Can Alfred go, father ?" asked
Bernard. He looks very tired, and
the distance to Ilsenburg is about six
Six miles !" said Alfred. I am not
able to walk even one mile."
"Then you must stay here for this
night," said the charcoal burner, "and
I will send Hans, my workman, to let
your parents know where you are. You
may have a holiday this afternoon,
Bernard, and amuse the young gentleman
in some way that will not fatigue him."
I will take him to fish," replied
Bernard; "that will not be fatiguing."
The boys went together to the wood.

Bernard took Alfred to a pond in the
wood, where there was a deep pool.
"The best trouts are always here," he
said. He gave Alfred a fishing-rod and
left him. In a few minutes Alfred saw
the cork on his line pulled under water,
and felt that a fish had taken the bait.
He tried to pull it out, but in vain.
"Help me, help me, Bernard," cried he,
as the rod was pulled out of his hand,
and floated away on the water. Bernard
came quickly, dashed into the water,
caught the rod, and not very long after-
wards landed a large fish.
Why did you let go the rod ?" said
he to Alfred.
"I should have been pulled into the
water myself, if I had not let it go,"
replied he.
You are a city boy, and don't under-
stand fishing, that is quite clear," said
Bernard. "Come, now, and help me to get
some rabbits for our dinner to-morrow."
From the hollow stem of an old oak,
Bernard took out nets, and from a
wooden box at the foot of the tree, he
took a ferret, He placed the nets over

a rabbit's hole, and then sent in the
ferret. Several rabbits were soon caught
in the net, and Bernard gave them to
Alfred to hold. While Bernard killed
the first rabbit, which he did quickly,
Alfred let two of the others escape.
How awkward you are," said Bernard,
"you can't even hold a rabbit. While
I catch some more, you had better amuse
yourself by eating strawberries, for you
don't seem fit for much else, or you may
make a basket of these willows to take
some home to my mother." Bernard
cut the willows, and tried to show Alfred
how to make a basket; but the city boy's
hands were unfit for the work, and
Bernard left him among the strawberries.
When Bernard had caught some more
rabbits, and was putting back his ferret
into its box, the sky darkened, and one
of the sudden storms came on, usual
among these mountains. Bernard urged
Alfred to hasten back to the hut; but
Alfred was too tired to keep up with his
stronger companion. Before they could
reach the hut, the storm had burst, and,
terrified by the flashes of lightning, the


loud peals of thunder, and the pelting of
the rain, poor Alfred, wet through, was
glad to take shelter in the hut.
The charcoal burner's kind wife took off
the boy's wet clothes, and, seeing that he
was hungry and tired, she gave him some-
thing to eat, and put him into her own
son's bed. It was very different from the
luxurious bed to which Alfred had been
accustomed; and tired as he was, he could
not sleep for a long time. He heard the
charcoal burner and his family at their
evening worship; and when they sang one
of their well-known hymns, the sound at
last lulled him to sleep:-

Even or rough my road I go,
Sure that Thy hand protecteth;
The counsel of Thy love, I know,
For me that path selecteth.
Let life or death then mark the year,
Be joy or grief my lot to bear,
All still my good effecteth!
"Be far or near my journey's end,
The thought shall not oppress me:
To Jesus I my way commend,
In life or death to bless me:
O Lord my time is in Thy hand,
In heaven my footsteps safely land,
And let heaven's joy possess me !"

Next morning, Alfred awoke feverish,
with his head throbbing, and with pain
in every limb, from being twice wet
through the previous day. But he was
resolved not to yield to his feelings. He
rose and joined the charcoal burner's
family at their breakfast, which consisted
of black bread and hard cheese, which he
could not eat.
After breakfast, although he felt ill,
he was resolved not to yield, so he begged
the charcoal burner to allow him to go
and help Bernard to split wood for the
pile. You are not fit for such work,"
said Severin; "your weak arms and
white hands are not fit to wield the axe.
Look at my Bernard, see his sturdy limbs
and strong fists. He is a son of the
woods, and fit to work here; but you,
delicate boy that you are, are only fit for
the city." "Yet I would like to try,"
said Alfred; I should like to be a char-
coal burner."
You are wrong," said Severin, seri-
ously. To use a homely proverb, 'one
cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's
ear;' neither can one make a sow's ear

out of a silk purse. Each is best in its
own place; and your duty, young gentle-
man, is to do your father's will, to obey
him, and to work at his trade, as Bernard
works at mine. Remember, no blessing
can ever follow those that disobey their
"Please, let me try, for this once,
whether I can split wood as Bernard
does," said Alfred.
You may try," said the charcoal
burner, but you won't do much." So
saying, he gave him an axe and some
pieces of wood, and Alfred set to work to
imitate Bernard; but with aching head,
quivering nerves, and the illness produced
by a feverish cold, he was unable to make
any progress, and only hurt himself on
the sharp edges of the billets. At last,
weary and ill, he sat down and cried.
The poor city child," said the wood-
man, compassionately, as he called to his
wife to come and take care of the boy.
How could he ever fancy that he was
fit for life in the woods !"
The charcoal burner's wife seeing
Alfred was really ill, put him to bed,

and there he was, tossing in feverishness,
when, a few hours afterwards, his parents
How glad Alfred was to be clasped
again in his tender mother's arms. His
father had been inclined to be angry
with him, but the boy was too ill to be
reproved at the moment. They took
him back to Ilsenburg, and nursed him
carefully; but it was some weeks before he
recovered from the effects of his foolish




The stork in the heaven knoweth her appointed
times; and the turtle, and the crane, and the swallow
observe the time of their coming ; but my people know
not the judgment of the Lord."--JER. viii. 7.

HEN Alfred was sufficiently re-
covered to go out, he was
anxious to spend as much time
as possible in the woods. His kind
parents asked the old charcoal burner to
allow his son Bernard to pay them a visit,
that he might accompany Alfred on his
excursions, and save them from the fear
of his losing himself again in the forest.
The two boys spent many pleasant hours
in the woods, and were often accompanied
by Alfred's mother, who sat on a mossy
bank with a book or her work, while the
boys amused themselves. Bernard taught


Alfred many things that were new to the
city boy,-the names of the trees and
shrubs, the uses of many herbs, and the
berries and wild fruits that were fit to
eat. He showed him the holes of the
wild bees, and taught him to know the
notes of the wood birds. One day Alfred
heard a bird singing very sweetly, but he
could not see it, for it was hid among tLh
leafy branches. How I should like to
see it," said he.
That is easy," replied Bernard, scat-
tering a few crumbs on the ground, then
taking Alfred with him behind the trunk
of an old tree, he whistled in notes so
exactly like those of the bird, that Alfred
started with surprise and would have
spoken, but Bernard made a sign to him
to be silent. In a few minutes the bird
alighted from the tree, as if looking for
a companion, and soon began to pick up
the crumbs that Bernard had thrown
down, so that Alfred could see it well,
and admire its glossy black plumage and
bright yellow beak. It was a blackbird.
"If I had wanted to catch it," said Ber-
nard, "I could easily have done so by

putting a net or a trap beside the crumbs;
but we won't hurt the pretty creature. I
only catch the birds that we use for food,
though I often amuse myself by whistling
to the other birds, and bringing them
round me."
Bernard could imitate the notes of any
of the birds that frequented that part of
the country; and he often displayed his
skill, much to the amusement of Alfred.
"In winter," said Bernard, "when
the fieldfares come, we catch plenty of
them. The landlord of the inn is glad
to buy as many as we can catch; his
guests like a dish of roasted fieldfares
for breakfast."
Bernard showed Alfred how the forest
boys make traps for the fieldfares, by
twisting twigs of willow into little round
hoops. To these they tie bunches of
the red berries of the mountain ash, and
hang them on the low boughs of the
pine trees, with snares made of string
amongst them. The birds are very fond
of these berries, and are caught in great
numbers in the simple traps.
"I have read about fieldfares, but I

never saw one," said Alfred. What is
it like?"
"It is like a thrush, but I think it is
prettier," said Bernard; its breast and
throat are yellow, spotted with black; it
has dark brown legs, and a yellow beak.
You cannot see one just now, for they
are all away in other lands. They come
back here in October; but I suppose they
are tired with a long journey, for they
are usually very thin. We don't catch
them at first, for their flesh is not good
till they have had time to get fat on the
plentiful fare they get here. Besides
the berries of the mountain ash, they
eat hips and haws, and worms and insects
I have read that the Romans kept
them shut up, and fed them on crumbs
of bread and minced figs, to make them
fat," said Alfred.
Bernard had never heard of the
Romans, and had never seen a fig; so
Alfred was obliged to explain his words,
rather pleased that he could teach
Bernard something even about the wild

Poor little prisoners," said Bernard.
"I am sure they were not so good to
eat, after all, as if they had got fat in
the fresh air of the woods. It is true of
birds as of human beings, Alfred; every
one is best in his own place. 'How
miserable the fieldfares must have been,
when they were prevented from flying
away to other countries as they were
used to do."
Is it not wonderful," said Alfred,
" how they find their way in these long
journeys ?"
God himself has taught these wander-
ing birds how to find their way through
the trackless air," said Mrs. Brockhausen,
who had come near the boys while they
were talking; and they are obedient to
His will, though men often are not.
We read in the Bible that 'the stork in
the heaven knoweth her appointed times;
and the turtle, and the crane, and the
swallow observe the time of their coming;
but my people know not the judgment
of the Lord.' Let not this be our case,
but let us strive to learn to know God
and to do His will."

When Mrs. Brockhausen and the boys
returned to the inn, they found Mr.
Brockhausen conversing with a party of
travellers, who had just come down from
the Brocken, having ascended it from
Elbingerode, on the other side of the
mountain. Among other things, they
were speaking of the charcoal burners,
their hard work and their miserable
dwellings. Mr. Brockhausen mentioned
Alfred's wish to be a charcoal burner, and
the strangers all laughed heartily.
You are just like some boys in my
country," said an Englishman of the
party, "who wish to go to the back
woods of America, or the bush in Aus-
tralia, when their education and habits
have completely unfitted them for such a
life; and then, if they go without money,
they are often obliged to be servants to
the working men, who, without education,
have the hardy frames and strong arms fit
for severe labour. I have heard of men
with a University education, who have,
when in Australia, been obliged to serve
in an inn and wait upon the rough

Yes," said a Scotchman; I heard of
an amusing instance of something of
that kind lately. A very doleful letter
appeared in a Scotch newspaper, telling
of the misfortunes of a settler in New
Zealand, who could not get on at all.
I wondered, for I have many friends
doing well there, doing very well; but
it was explained in another letter in the
next paper, that the writer of the doleful
letter was a tradesman from a manufac-
turing town, whose former occupation
had wholly unfitted him for hard manual
labour, and who knew nothing about
farming and work in the woods. Hear
what the writer of the second letter says,"
continued the Scotchman, taking a news-
paper out of his pocket: "Our friend
took a piece of bush land, and proceeded
to clear it. No wonder it nearly killed
him. In all probability he had never
had an axe-I mean a felling axe-in
his hand before. The tradesman should
stick to his trade. 'Let every tub stand
on its own bottom.' Had the tradesman
done this, and invested his money in his
own business, he would have prospered.

This is the opinion of an experienced
man; no one should try hard labour with
the hands, unless he has been brought up
to work."
It is easy to see, my boy, that you
have not been accustomed to hard work,"
continued he, addressing Alfred; "so, take
my advice, and don't try it. Those that
have money to invest can find labourers
to work. If you have an interest in
forest work, the best way would be for
your father to invest a little money here.
There might be many improvements
made in the way in which the forest
work is carried on here, and machinery
might be introduced with advantage."
"It is a good hint," said Mr. Brock-
hausen; I will seriously consider the
This hint was afterwards considered by
Mr. Brockhausen with good results.




As a bird that wandereth from her nest; so is a
man that wandereth from his place."-PRov. xxvii. 8.
URING the time that Bernard
had spent at Ilsenburg, he had
become much attached to Alfred,
and he was sorry to think of parting from
him. He had also been much interested
in Alfred's descriptions of the city, and
could not help wishing to see Bremen,
even if he were not to remain there.
Mr. Brockhausen was exceedingly pleased
with Bernard's steadiness, intelligence,
and abilities, and he asked old Severin to
allow him to take Bernard to Bremen,
promising to give him a good education,
and to provide well for him in the future.
That needs much consideration, sir,"
said old Severin. A city child is not

fit for the woods; neither do I think that
my Bernard is fit for the city. But
there are exceptions to every rule; and
it is certainly a remarkable exception to
ordinary rules, that you make me such a
handsome offer. I should not like to
stand in my boy's way, if this proposal
were to be for his good. What does his
mother say ?"
I don't wish to say anything," said
the mother. It would grieve me much
to part with my only son; but I will not
oppose the plan, if he wishes it. What
do you say, Bernard ? "
Bernard's eyes were sparkling with
joy. He had heard so much from Alfred
of the wonders of the city, that he was
anxious to go to see them. Let me try
it, father," said he. I should like to
see Bremen."
We shall not prevent you, then,"
said his mother, with a sigh; "but you
will not quite forget your old father and
mother." Oh no, certainly I will not,"
said Bernard; "and Mr. Brockhausen
will allow me to come back to see you."
" Surely," replied Mr. Brockhausen; you


shall return whenever you wish to do so."
It was settled that Bernard should go
with the Brockhausens to Bremen.
Before Bernard left home, his father
gave him good advice, and warned him
of the temptations to which he~might be
exposed in a large city. "Make the
Bible your counsellor, my son, and ask
God to give you strength to walk in the
right way. If you trust in God, He can
keep you as safe in the city as here in
the woods. And, remember, that if you
are unhappy, your parents' home is al-
ways open to you."
On his journey to Bremen, Bernard
was quite bewildered with all the novel
ties he saw. He had never before been
in a large town, and had never seen a
railway. As Alfred pointed out and ex-
plained many things to him, Bernard's
respect for Alfred increased, and he won-
dered how a boy that seemed so stupid
in the woods should know so much.
Whentheyarrived at Mr. Brockhausen's
splendid mansion, Bernard's eyes were
dazzled with the magnificence which he
had never even conceived. As Alfred

wished him to be his constant companion,
he was taken into the rooms inhabited
by the family; and innumerable were the
mistakes that he made. Alfred kindly
explained everything to him as far as he
could. "Don't be vexed, Bernard," said
he; "in a few weeks you will become
accustomed to all this."
The first few days of Bernard's stay
were occupied in showing him the city
of Bremen. Its narrow streets and lofty
houses seemed very gloomy to Bernard;
the flat marshy ground round it was tame
and uninteresting, when compared with
the mountains of his native home.
Alfred took him to his father's large
warehouses, and astonished him still more
by the knowledge he displayed of the
merchandise brought from all parts of
the globe. He also took him on board
some of his father's ships.
Although Alfred was kind and con-
siderate, his companions were not so.
Many of the boys who visited the house
sneered at Bernard's awkward ways and
rough speech, and even the footmen
could sometimes scarcely restrain a smile.

Poor Bernard was thoroughly home-sick,
and he said to Alfred, "Your father
agreed with mine, that every one is best
in his own place, and I feel it to be true.
I am sure I shall never get accustomed
to live here."
"Consult my father; speak to him
freely," said Alfred; he will advise you
for the best." Bernard took this advice;
and when, shortly afterwards, Mr. Brock-
hausen asked him how he liked Bremen,
he said, "Don't think me ungrateful,
sir, for all the kindness I have received;
but you and my father agreed in think-
ing that every one is best in his own
place, and I feel as if I am not in my
own place here."
Mr. Brockhausen looked much pleased,
and said to Bernard, "I am glad that
you have asked me the question so
frankly. You are quite right, that every
one is best in his own place, but every
one ought to try to be the best in his
own place that it is possible to be. Your
father is a good charcoal burner, and
you might have been a good charcoal
burner, had you remained with him; but

there are many things that can be made
from the wood, about which your father
knows nothing. If, by giving you a good
education here, I could teach you to make,
not only charcoal, but many other things,
m your own woods, then you might
return home to be the right man in the
right place. To please Alfred, I have
invited you here. You have seen many
sights that are strange to you. I don't
think that it would be for your advantage
to live longer in my house; but if you
will try what I have to propose, I think
it will be good for you."
You have been extremely kind to me,
Mr. Brockhausen; and my father trusts
you. I will do whatever you advise."
The same evening it was decided that
Bernard should be a pupil at a Poly-
technic School, and that, instead of living
with Mr. Brockhausen, he should board
with a respectable family. Alfred and
his mother both remonstrated. We
promised to treat him as our own child,
when we took him from his parents, and
is it fulfilling the promise, to board him
in such a humble home ?"

"I am doing what is best for Ber-
nard," said Mr. Brockhausen; "he has
his own way to make in the world. He
ought not to be accustomed to live in
luxury. We must look after him, and
arrange that he should spend his holi-
days with us; but his time must be
devoted to study."
Bernard worked hard, he soon under-
stood that the lessons he was receiving
would enable him to be of more use in
his own dear home. He applied himself
to his studies so eagerly that he soon
surpassed his companions, and he showed
so much talent that Mr. Brockhausen
began to waver as to his future. At
first, he had only intended to teach
Bernard such things as might be needful
to make good use of the productions of
the forest. But when he saw proof of
the boy's great abilities, he wished to keep
him in his own counting-house.
For three long years Bernard had been
studying, home-sick all the time, longing
to leave the marshy plains and the
gloomy streets for his mountain home.
When, at last, his education was pro-

nounced completed, Mr. Brockhausen
called him to speak with him.
"Your education is now completed,"
said he; "you are more than equal to
Alfred; you can take a place in my
counting-house; and I may promise, that
if you go on as you have begun, you will
some day be a junior partner. You may
come to-morrow, and take your place at
a desk in my counting-house."
Poor Bernard! he had been longing
for his home in the forest; and now were
all his hopes to end in this? A weary
seat at a weary desk, far away from his
old parents, and from the hills and
rivers he loved so much. Yet what
could he do ? He felt deeply his obliga-
tions to Mr. Brockhausen, the benefactor
who had educated him, and who was still
so kind to him-he resolved to sacrifice
himself, and to submit. Next day, he
was in the counting-house.
During all the time that he had been
at school, Bernard had been upheld by
the hope of returning home when his
education was completed. He thought
that the harder he studied the sooner he

would be back in his native woods. But
now this hope was gone; there was
nothing before him but a dreary life in
the gloomy streets of Bremen.




"A man's heart deviseth his way: but the Lord
directeth his steps."-PRov. xvi. 9.
Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his right-
eousness; and all these things shall be added unto
you."-MATT. vi. 33.
,)iOR more than half-a-year Bernard
worked diligently. Mr. Brock-
L hausen was delighted with his
attention, zeal, and ability. L. -|I's
heart was in his work; he was labouring
to show his gratitude. But his strength
was not equal to his willingness. His
health failed, he got weaker and thinner,
and, at last, an attack of brain fever came
on. For weeks his life was in danger.
Mr. Brockhausen procured the best
medical advice and the most careful
nursing; and both he and Alfred were
often beside the sick bed of the suffering

youth. On one of these occasions, Mr.
Brockhausen discovered, from Bernard's
words uttered during the delirium of
fever, how strong the youth's longings
were for his mountain home, and how he
hated the gloomy city and the marshy
Noble boy that he is," said Mr.
Brockhausen to his wife; he has been
pining with home sickness, and he has
sacrificed his own feelings and wishes
from gratitude to me. I forgot my own
maxim, that every one is best in his own
place; but now, if it please God to spare
Bernard's life, I will try to make him
happy in his own way.
Bernard's life was spared,-he slowly
recovered; but he was more firmly re-
solved than ever to conceal his dislike to
business in the city, as he was bound still
more by gratitude for the kindness shown
him during his illness. He was not at
all aware how he had unconsciously be-
trayed his feelings.
One day that he was able to take the
air in Mr. Brockhausen's beautiful garden,
that gentleman asked him if he thought

he should soon be strong enough to at-
tend again to business.
Bernard's cheek was pale, and he still
looked weak and ill; but he at once said
that he was ready, if necessary, to return
to his place at the desk.
It is not there that I want your help,
dear Bernard," said Mr. Brockhausen;
" your former place is now filled by
another clerk. I have a new employ-
ment for you, as soon as you think you
are able for it."
Whatever it may be, my kind bene-
factor, I am at your service," replied
I have bought a property not far
from your old home," said Mr. Brock-
hausen. The idea struck me long ago,
when I was staying at Ilsenburg, that
many other manufactures besides char-
coal burning might be carried on in these
woods. At the school to which I sent
you, and from the teachers under whom
I placed you, I know that you have
acquired much practical knowledge of
chemistry and of such manufactures as
can be profitably carried on in this new

property of mine. I mean to begin mak-
ing potash, pitch, and tar, and many
similar things, and I want a confidential
agent to superintend the works. Will
you undertake this ?"
Bernard's eyes sparkled, and his pale
cheek flushed with joy.
My kind benefactor," said he, how
can I thank you enough ? You seem to
have guessed my wishes. If I can live
in my old home, and serve you at the
same time, it will make me only too
happy. Have you really arranged all
this to give me pleasure?"
No, no; don't suppose that I have
done this only for your sake, Bernard,"
said Mr. Brockhausen, laughing; "I assure
you that I expect to make a good profit
out of the undertaking. I have a ready
market and a great demand for the arti-
cles I purpose to have made. I have
engaged labourers and skilled mechanics
to begin the works; and as soon as you
are strong enough, you shall go to superin-
tend them. It is so far from this place
that I require an agent in whom I can
place perfect confidence. Your father's

practical knowledge will also be of great
service. I cannot be much there myself;
but every year I hope that Alfred and
I may pay you a visit, and he will enjoy
a holiday in the forest."
How rejoiced Bernard's good parents
were to have their son once more with
them. They. removed from the hut to
the pleasant house which Mr. Brockhau-
sen had provided for Bernard, as his agent
and superintendent of his works. There
was soon a great change in the neighbour-
hood. Numerous workmen were em-
ployed, many trees were cut down, and
not only charcoal, but tar, pitch, potash,
and lamp black were also made. Bernard
was very busy-he found full scope for
his abilities in the way he liked best. Nor
was he unmindful of better things. Ber-
nard was a truly Christian young man.
He had taken his father's advice,and made
the Bible the rule of his daily life. He
did much good among the workmen under
his control.
Alfred had quite forgotten his restless
fancies, and was steadily employed in his
father's counting-house. He felt that

his duty as a son required him to be
there, and he gradually learned to like
the occupation, for the highest satisfaction
is always to be found in the consciousness
of duty well done.
In the autumn, Mr. and Mrs. Brock-
hausen and Alfred paid a visit to Bernard.
Are you well and happy now, Ber-
nard ?" asked Mr. Brockhausen.
I am happy and grateful," said Ber-
nard, and glad to be of use to you; and
is Alfred also happy in his work ?"
Here he comes; ask him," said Mr.
Bernard did not require to ask; one
look at Alfred's bright face was enough.
Do you still wish to exchange with
Bernard ?" asked his father.
No, no," said Alfred, laughing, "we
are each happy in our own place. Ber-
nard will go on superintending his fac-
tories here, and I will take care to send
what he produces to the best markets.
I like a visit to the forest in fine weather,
but I prefer to live in the city." '
True contentment," said Mr. Brock-
hausen, "consists in doing our duty in


that sphere of life in which it has pleased
God to place us. He knows best what
is good for us. Let us ever remember
the command of our Saviour, 'Seek ye
first the kingdom of God, and his right-
eousness,' and we may be sure that the
promise will be fulfilled, and all things
needful will be given to us."
My conscience is my crown,
Contented thoughts my rest;
My heart is happy in itself,
My bliss is in my breast.
Enough, I reckon wealth;
That means, the surest lot,
That lies too high for base contempt,
Too low for envy's shot.
My wishes are but few,
All easy to fulfil;
I make the limits of my power,
The bounds unto my will.
I feel no care for gold,
Well-doing is my wealth;
My mind to me an empire is,
While grace affordeth health."

I -. '

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