THE AUTHOR OF THE EASTERR EGGS."
(raulatat from tf &nrmau.
DARTON AND CO., HOLBORN HILL.
GOORGI WOODIALL AND SON,
"OnGL COQUIT oknR3t ffREET.
I. A noble-minded Child's Friend . 1
II. An unexpected, joyful, and saddening
III. An Attack by Robbers 22
IV. Compassionate Villagers 31
V. Traces of the Attack .. 36
VI. The missing Mother .42
VII. Children that require Superintendence 51
VIII. Great Misery 67
IX. Another sad Occurrence 75
X. A most singular Appearance in a Prison 79
XI. History of the lost Mother 85
XII. The Innocence of an honest Man acknow-
ledged . 94
XIIL The Robbers detected and punished 98
XIV. Old and new Acquaintances .104
XV. The Mother sees her Daughter again 109
XVL The grateful Mother .. .115
XVIL A great Festival 122
XVIII. The Founding of an Infant School 128
XIX. A little Festival .133
A NOBLE-MINDED CHILD FRIEND.
SoPHIA VON GRUENTHAL was the widow of a
colonel, who, in the last war with France, died
gloriously for his country. She lived in a
German capital, her native town, where she
occupied roomy lodgings in a wealthy mer-
This noble lady was a great friend to chil-
dren; and her only daughter Paulina, though
herself adlild, took great delight in these sweet
innocent creatures. The merchant, the father
of several children, the eldest of whom was not
above six years old, had often to be absent
from home for months, and the mother had to
manage his business meanwhile; so that the
good parents could not pay proper attention to
their amiable and promising children.
Sophia von Gruenthal, observing this, deter-
mined to take charge of them, and sent Paulina
for them. Paulina returned after a little while
with a child in each hand, a boy and a girl,
who were both neatly dressed, and full of joy.
They were treated with fruits, milk, and cake;
and the kind lady not only understood how to
make the children comfortable by entertaining
them in a most agreeable manner, but she also
thought of giving them a good and sound
She was convinced that a love of God might
be implanted in the tender hearts of children.
The doctrines of Christ," she often said, are
most delightful and beneficial to men, but the
greatest beneficence is, that he taught us to
call the Almighty Creator of the heaven and
earth our Father. Children, even of a ten-
der age, who have a good father here on earth,
understand this sweet name, and like to hear
of our Father in heaven."
So she used to speak of him on every occa-
sion. One day the lively Fred and sweet
Charlotte came running, bringing each of them
a little picture-book, in which objects of natural
history were drawn. Look here!" said Fred,
what a nice book our good father has sent
a! Look here at the beautiful horses and the
pretty sheep; and here, do look what a noble
stag, and there an immense elephant."
In my book," said Charlotte, "there are
all sorts of' sweet flowers and fruits, herbs and
trees! Look at these beautiful roses! I do
not know the other flowers. Here is a stalk
with nice red strawberries; here, red apples;
here, pears and plums; and here, splendid
The lady said, Now, my dear children, your
father has given you much pleasure. Is it not
good of him to think of you when he is far
off? he loves you dearly, and is very kind to
Oh, yes!" said Charlotte; "he is a kind,
good father, to send us such pretty things."
But," answered the lady, have you then
thanked him for them?"
"Why !" exclaimed Fred, he is on a journey,
and if we were to say, Thank you, dear father,'
he would not hear it."
Charlotte said, "When he comes home, we
will say to him, Dearest father, we thank
you for the pretty books.'"
"Well," said the lady, "listen, dear chil-
dren. You know that we all have a Father
in heaven, and with him it is just as it is with
your father on earth. Your father on earth,
though far away from you, still loves you, and
makes you pretty presents. In like manner
you do not see your Father in heaven, yet he
thinks of you and gives you pretty things. He
makes the roses blow, and the grapes ripen. He
makes the four seasons come and go. Your
father on earth does not see you now, he hears
not your thanks. But your heavenly Father
sees you everywhere, he looks into your hearts.
He heats every word you utter, he even knows
your thoughts. Your father on earth is a very
sensible man, and skilful in his business; but
he could not make real roses and grapes, still
less the whole spring with all its flowers in
gardens and meadows, or the autumn with
apples and pears, plums and grapes.
"You are delighted that your earthly father
treats you so kindly and sends you such pretty
things; still more ought you to rejoice that
yior heavenly Father displays such kindness
to you. All good comes from him. He gives
you your daily bread and many good things
besides; sweet fruits, from the strawberry in
spring to the grape in autumn. You cannot
thank your father on earth now, you must wait
tA he comes home; but your Father in heaven
hers your thanks; yes, he even knows the
grateful feeling of your hearts. Therefore thank
him now for bestowing so much good upos
you. These presents, which you have received
from your earthly father, you owe to your
Father in heaven. He implanted that love
ip your father's heart, which makes him delight
in sending you such fine things. He gave him
the wealth that enabled him to buy them.
But one thing more. How can.you now
best thank him for giving you so much
.. Fred said, If we try to please him."
; But how will you do that?" asked the
"Oh!." said Charlotte, "if we are good and
'. Well," said the lady; "thus you ought to
thank also your Father in heaven, for he only
delights in good deeds: be good children,
SEvery time the children came, they asked
the lady to tell them some pretty stories. She
consented with pleasure, as she had at the
omae time the best opportunity of intermingling
a great deal of instruction. She mostly liked
to take her stories from subjects which werd
put before the children's eyes.
One holiday the lady put on her finger a gold
sing set with jewels. It was the first time the
children had seen it, and they admired it very
much. She now told them why gold and
jewels were valuable; but said at the same
time that they ought not to esteem them too
highly, for that noble deeds were incomparably
more estimable. She then related the follow-
Once upon a time there was a father, who,
by honest industry, with the blessing of God,
had acquired a large fortune.
When he was very old he divided his pro-
perty among his three sons. But he had a
gold ring set with precious stones, which each
of the three sons longed to possess.
"' I love you all equally,' said the father,
'but only one of you can possess this ring:
We will, therefore, decide the matter thus:
Tell me, each of you, with the strictest truth
what deed you have done which you consider
as the best of your life. He shall receive the
ring whose deed I deem the noblest.'
"Adelbert, the eldest son, began: 'When I
was in a foreign land, and still very young, I
found on the road a small packet, which con-
tained, besides some silver, about twenty pieces
of gold. I was at that time in great want of
money; far and wide not a human being was
to be seen. I might have kept the money to
myself, and should thus have been freed from
all distress. But I scorned such a thought, and
made diligent inquiry after the owner of the
lost packet; nor did I rest until I had dis-
covered him: he turned out to be a worthy
merchant's clerk. I accordingly returned the
money to him, and refused any reward.'
"The father said You have acted well and
honestly, Adelbert; he who retains property
he has found would be dishonest, and nothing
better than a thief. Your deed is good, but
cannot be called a noble one. You have done
no more than your duty.'
"' Benedict came next. I was walking on
the sea-shore, where children were searching
for the beautiful shells which were to be
found there. One of the boys slipped into
the water, upon which all the other children
raised a lamentable cry. The mother came
running, deadly pale, and wringing her hands,
drying to heaven for help. I jumped at once
into the water, saved the child, and brought
him back to his mother, who fell before
me on her knees, and thanked me with 'a
thousand tears. All the children were full
"'Then,' said the father, 'you, Benediet,
have given a noble proof of Christian love. It
is a sacred duty to assist our fellow-creatures
when in distress.'
"It was now Christian's turn. 'A thief
used to steal my best fruits, apples and pears,
apricots and peaches. He even pulled up
some newly-planted young trees, which I had
bought at a high price, in which I took a great
delight. He carried them away to sell them.
He was very cunning, and all attempts to
catch him proved vain. But one stormy,
rainy 'night, when heavy clouds covered the
moon, and it was very dark, with a bag
on his shoulders, he climbed a great apple*
tree to steal my beautiful pippins. But he
fell down, and in his fall broke his leg,
which prevented him from escaping. In the
morning, when I came into the garden, I found
him lying on the grass, with the empty bag by
his side. He was a boy about thirteen yeam.
old, the son of a labourer. I had him carried
home; as his parents were too poor to pay
for a doctor, I sent for my surgeon. When
the leg was perfectly healed, the boy called on
me to thank me and to beg my pardon for the
various thefts he had committed. His parents,
who knew of his conduct, accompanied him.
I admonished both the boy and his parents;
and, as they were not in a position to have
their son taught a trade, I undertook to find
him a situation with a carpenter. The boy
was completely reformed, and is now an
honest man, a skilful master, and a wealthy
My dear Christian,' said the father, 'you
have acted a truly noble and generous part.
Love of all our fellow-creatures is the prime vir-
tue of a Christian, it is indeed the essence of all
virtues; but to pardon the offender, and return
good for evil, this is the perfection of Christian
love. You are a noble man; the ring belongs
The little society increased by degrees. The
two younger children of the landlord, a boy
and a girl, were added to it. A bookbinder,
living in the neighbourhood, brought home
some prettily-bound books, which he had had
to bind for the lady.
He saw her and Paulina surrounded by
these cheerful children.
His wife had unfortunately been a long time
ill; he, being obliged to pass all the day in the
workshop, requested the lady to receive his
two little boys also, to which she gladly con-
sented. Just opposite this house lived an
artist, whose wife had died in the prime of life,
leaving him with two lovely girls. His mother
managed the household affairs, which occupied
her so much that she was unable to pay pro-
per attention to her grandchildren; she was
besides too old for it. The artist, being engaged
in the decoration of a church in the country,
could only spend his Sundays at home.
Other parents made similar requests, and
they were all granted. Thus met together in
a spacious room more than a dozen children.
At first the lady's sole object was agreeably to
entertain them. The games which children
can play sitting round a table were introduced.
They built card-houses, or placed bent cards in
rows, so that if the first one was touched all
the cards fell round the table. The lady would
also bring a basketful of coloured beans, which
the children placed on the table in lines, or
circles, and formed all sorts of figures, triangles,
squares, a star, a heart, a cross, and such like.
Then they would play a game where there
was more action; besides those well-known
ones of blindman's-buff, and change your place.
They were very fond of "search for the pin."
To play at this, one of the children was sent
outside the door, and the others hid a pin some-
where in the room; Paulina sat down to the
piano and played; the child which was then
called in was obliged to search for the pin.
When the child approached the place where
the pin was hid Paulina played loudei, when
it went away from it she played more softly,
until the pin, to the great delight of all -the
children, was found.
The lady also procured several toys; for the
boys little houses, and a quantity of bricks for
building, pillars and other ornaments for
churches and palaces, all neatly cut in wood
and prettily painted, and trees with feet on
which they could be placed upright. She bought
for the girls all sorts of little utensils and
furniture used in the kitchen, with little plates
and dishes of tin, and cups of earthenware.
The boys sat down to a table near the window,
and built houses and complete towns, sur-
rounded with green trees. On the other side
the girls built a kitchen; Paulina gave them
turnips and boiled carrots. They cut them up
into slices. They rubbed the white bread in a
little grater, crushed some sugar in a little
mortar, mixed flour and sugar, added water,
and made various kinds of tarts; and all the
while their little hands were busy, the little
mouths were not quiet a moment.
When the boys had finished their town,
they called the girls, who, after praising their
building, invited the clever workmen to a
dinner, which the boys enjoyed, admiring the
skill of the cooks. "These games," said
the lady, "are as important for children, as
business employment are for grown-up people;
the former in fact prepare them for the latter."
They then occupied themselves with a little
work. Paulina taught the children to make
all sorts of pretty things with little slips of
coloured paper. And in this they succeeded
so well, that it was astonishing to see children
so clever. Afterwards, when the eye and hand
had been somewhat trained, Paulina taught
the girls knitting, while her mother showed
the boys how to make twist of various
coloured threads. Paulina also played the
piano, and sang.
"Teach the children pretty nursery rhymes,"
maid her mother; so Paulina sang one several
times over, and some of the children soon
learned to sing it prettily. These merry tunes
made the children still more joyous. Paulina
got them also to learn by heart little rhymes of
two lines, containing only a few words each;
the children being placed in a circle began say-
ing, after her, first one word, then two, and at
last one line, and then the second line. Thus
the children learned easily a dozen pretty
Paulina's mother particularly insisted on
cleanliness, order, and obedience. Faults were
expiated either by standing in a corner, or by
being expelled for a short time. The severest
punishment, however, was the threat that
they should not be allowed to return at all.
The diligent and obedient received apples,
pears, or plums. Thus they became orderly,
obedient, cleanly, and intelligent, so that
everybody was delighted with them. Most of
the children had now passed their sixth year,
and were taken to an established school. On
leaving their benefactresses, Paulina and her
mother, all of them heartily expressed their
gratitude. The merchant's children presented
Paulina with some beautiful white silk for a
dress; the bookbinder's boys brought her a
prayer-book, splendidly bound and richly gilt;
the artist's girls gave a splendid picture, in a
gilt frame, representing Jesus, the divine friend
of children, surrounded by little ones. All had
tears in their eyes, but they were comforted
by the lady's assurance that they might visit
her after school hours; and they took leave,
smiling through their tears.
AN UNEXPECTED, JOYFUL, AND SADDENING
ONE Sunday morning after church-service,
Paulina was sitting with her mother on the
sofa, reading to her a religious book; both
were dressed in mourning, for not quite a
year had passed since the death of Mr. G--.
Suddenly the servant girl entered the room,
saying, "There is a lady at the door who
wishes to speak to you, madame; but here
Madame Gruenthal rose, and exclaimed, quite
amazed, "What! my dearest friend Amalia!
is it you ? Oh! how glad am I-" but here she
burst into tears, and, sobbing, said, Oh! I have
suffered severely since we last met-Alas! my
husband the Colonel-but you already know of
the irreparable loss I have sustained." She
sank into the arms of the visitor, saying, "Oh,
what a comfort it is for me to pour out my
sorrow on the bosom of a true friend!"
Amalia von Eichburg, also bursting into
tears, said, "A similar sorrow is the cause of my
visit. My beloved husband has been seriously
wounded in this unhappy war. His wounds are
so far healed that he has been able, though under
great difficulties, to undertake the journey
hither in a well-protected carriage. Last night
we arrived very late at the hotel called The
Sun." My husband has great confidence in
the physician of this town, whom he has known
for many years, and he wishes to confide his
cure to him. I undertook the journey the
more gladly, and with greater pleasure, since
you were living here. We will help each other
to bear the cross which God has laid on us
Madame Gruenthal expressed her sympathy
with her beloved friend, and accompanied her
to the hotel. M. von Eichburg lay in bed,
and the physician was by his side.
"Well, doctor," asked Madame von Eich-
burg, "may we hope ?"
All is going on well," said he; but it will
"Oh! I shall be grateful to God all my life
long," said Madame von Eichburg, "if my
dear husband is again restored. Do your best,
I pray; may God send his blessing!"
The physician took leave, and the two ladies
sat down beside the bed, consulting with their
patient how he could be best lodged in the
Madame von Gruenthal said that in the
house where she dwelt there were three charm-
ing and comfortable rooms vacant on the same
"This would suit me, beyond all doubt," said
Madame von Eichburg, "and I will take them
immediately. Let us live together, and, if you
have no objection, even share our meals, as we
did in our former happier days."
The next morning the patient was carried
thither, and he and his wife were delighted that
their apartments, which were completely fur-
nished, and provided with every comfort, were
close to those of Madame von Gruenthal; in
fact, they formed one lodging.
The two friends were one heart and soul.
Madame von Eichburg and her husband,
who had no children, grew as fond of Paulina
as if she was their own daughter. The good
child merited it, for she was so pious, diligent,
obliging, modest, and at the same time intel-
ligent and lively, that everybody was delighted
with her, and envied the mother for so pro-
mising a daughter.
Paulina evinced the kindest attention for the
patient, who often suffered greatly. Every
morning she brought him his coffee, poured it
out, and read the paper to him while he took
his breakfast. When it contained good news
from the battle-field, particularly when the
officer's regiment was extolled, she used to
play his favourite march on the piano.-
The officer was at first entirely confined to
the bed. He, however, gradually improved, and
could already get up for a few hours during the
day, and walk about the room with crutches,
when the doctor advised him to use a distant
mineral spring, asserting that that sanative
water would cause his entire recovery.
Madame von Eichburg prepared for the
journey thither, and, though Paulina's mother
felt extremely sorry to lose her dear friends for
a time, she urged them to undertake the
journey, as she wished for nothing more
anxiously than to see the good officer entirely
The evening before their departure they all
sat talking familiarly with each other, forming
a variety of projects for the future. The pa-
tient, in joyful hopes of being soon able again
to mount his horse and fight for his country,
drank his usual toast, "To the health of all
Madame von Gruenthal mentioned that she
intended to send her daughter to an establish-
ment where a religious and virtuous education
was harmoniously united with instruction in
all useful knowledge and female accomplish-
ments. Because these institutions originated in
England, the managers are generally called
"When I return from the waters," said
Madame von Eichburg, I shall reside at our
country-seat at Eichburg, for it is very neces-
sary that I should myself look after our
extensive estates. Besides, living is much
cheaper there. What we here pay dearly for,
lodging, wood, and many other necessaries of
life, can be had there almost for nothing. I
long also to meet again the villagers, who are
devotedly attached to us, and to look after
their welfare, as we are bound to do."
"We have estates," said Madame von Gruen-
thal, "and I shall lead a sad and lonely life
after you and Paulina have left me."
"What!" exclaimed Amalia, "how came
you to fancy such a thing you must go with
us to Eichburg. There we will live comfort-
ably together until my husband returns from
the battle-field and your daughter from school,
when we, all four of us, who are now sitting
round this table, shall, if it be God's will, be
united again. Come now, you must promise
me to do this."
Madame von Gruenthal, deeply affected by so
true a friendship, with tears in her eyes gave
the required promise.
The next morning they took the tenderest
leave of each other.
The two ladies and Paulina shed tears;
tears even stood in the officer's eyes, which he
however, tried to suppress.
"My dear children," said he before entering
the carriage, "be of good cheer, the Almighty
will guide our steps, and unite us happily
His wife embraced her friend once more,
saying, Remember our agreement."
But everything happened otherwise than
had been planned, and Madame von Gruenthal
often used to say, "Man proposes, God dis-
The war, which formerly had only devastated
distant countries, suddenly took another turn.
The rumour ran that the enemy was approaching
the town. A few days afterwards, the thunder
of the cannons was heard. Madame von
Gruenthal, being much afraid of the enemy,
against whom her husband had valiantly fought,
wrapped her cash, jewels, and her most neces-
sary clothes hastily together, delivered the rest
into the hands of her honest landlord, and hired
a carriage, intending to quit the place with her
daughter. Paulina was greatly surprised, took
leave of her instructors, of her schoolfellows,
and her own little pupils, and at last of the
people of the house, and wept her eyes red.
Paulina had already travelled with her mo-
ther four or five miles, and was still very
melancholy. But she became gradually more
cheerful. Hitherto she had rarely been out-
side the walls of the town, and now she passed
through a beautiful and lovely country, which
she never before had seen. One part was still
more charming than the other. It was a
splendid autumnal day, the sun shone lovely
and mild. Pretty villages were situated to
the right and left of the road, surrounded by
green meadows, from which the crops had
already been carried in, but where herds of
cows were feeding.
The villagers* were occupied in their fruit-
gardens, in shaking down the purple apples, or
in shaking the trees, that the yellow pears and
blue plums might falling endless numbers. Others,
again, were bringing in from the kitchen-
garden the various sorts of vegetables. Further
on Paulina observed, for the first time in her
life, vineyards, where the grapes began already
to ripen. In the distant woody mountains,
many trees were still covered with green foliage,
In Germany, extensive fruit-gardens, which are in
the possession of the peasantry, are commonly met
although the autumnal wind bad blighted the
leaves of others. Paulina was quite ravished,
and more than a hundred times she repeated
the following well-known verse :-
"Behold God's earth so graced with beauty,
And made to yield reproachless mirth;
Let it be then my constant duty
To improve the moments spent on earth!"
AN ATTACK BY ROBBERS.
ON the fourth day the road ran through an ex-
tensive forest, which was notorious for robbers.
Madame von Gruenthal kept close to a number of
carriages which were also occupied by fugitives,
who were armed. Thus they had nothing to
fear. But, unfortunately, the axletree of her
carriage broke, through the roughness of the
road. It was only with great difficulty that the
coachman reached a little village on the road
where a smith lived. The rest of the travell-
would not wait until the repairs were done, u
continued their journey. It required in fact
some time to put the carriage to rights
again. Madame von Gruenthal walked up
and down before the smithy, considering
whether she should stop that night in the
village or not.
Suddenly a stranger came running into the
village with a full bag on his back, shouting
out, The enemy's hordes are close upon me;
they are cruel thieves, robbing the poor people
of everything; I saved all of my property I
could scrape together in haste. Pity for those
who fall into their hands, especially women!"
Madame von Gruenthal immediately ordered
the horses to be put to. The coachman expressed
the hope that they might reach the next village
before night-fall. But the road became worse
and worse; the forest darker and darker. The
sun began to set, the high fir-trees threw deep
black shadows over the road. Madame von
Gruenthal felt some anxiety.
In passing again through woody mountains,
she suddenly observed a man with a brown
face, standing in the road; he looked like a
gipsy, and excited some suspicion in her. The
man, approaching the carriage, glanced into it
slily and inquisitively.
"What do you want ?" asked Madame voR
Gruenthal, in a trembling tone.
"Nothing," replied the fellow, in a rough
voice; "I will only bid good evening to the
lady, and ask devotedly whether I could be of
any service to her."
Madame von Gruenthal politely declined the
unexpected offer, and he withdrew. However,
immediately after that, a penetrating, shrill
whistling was heard from the thicket into which
he had withdrawn.
"That is dangerous," said the coachman,
"he gave a signal to his comrades. May it
please God that we escape!"
He urged his horses on, and drove as hard
as the road allowed. However, before they
could reach the top of the hill a terrible voice
suddenly cried, "Stop !" Two robbers, in
blouses and blackened faces, armed with sabres
and pistols, sprung out of the wood.
Madame Gruenthal wrung her hands, and ex-
claimed God have mercy upon us!" Paulina
began to cry, and clung trembling to her mo-
ther. The coachman flogged the horses in
order to escape from the hands of the robbers,
one of whom sprang from the thicket, and
struck the coachman in the arm; the reins ft
from his hand, the horses took fright, and gal-
loped down the hill, and at the bottom came in
contact with a high bank, which overthrew the
coach with great force, so that the wheels were
uppermost. Madame Gruenthal was severely
wounded in the head, which bled profusely, and
she scarcely breathed. Paulina, though dread-
fully frightened, fortunately received no injury.
The coachman, seeing the brigands coming
down the hill, fled. The robbers ransacked the
carriage and made off, without regarding the
weeping child or the wounded lady.
Paulina, crying bitterly, knelt by the side
of her mother, and wiped the blood from
her forehead. Mother, dearest mother, pray
do speak; do you not hear me? Oh she is
dying! If somebody were but near, she might
perhaps be saved; but, far and wide, not a
creature is to be seen."
She observed in the distance a steeple, tinged
by the rays of the sinking sun, and thither she
directed her steps, hoping to find people who
would assist her.
She imagined this church to be not more
than half an hour's walk distant. But it was
far more, and the way was so overgrown with
underwood, that she found it almost impossible
to proceed; and, alarmed lest lhr mother should
die in her absence, attempted to return, but
soon lost her way. She cried for help, but in
vain. It grew darker and darker; the rain fell
heavily, and she sank down, exhausted from
anxiety and fatigue, exclaiming, 0 Lord, have
mercy upon my dear mother, if I should
The prayer is heard.
Afer Paulina had recovered a little, she got
up to continue her way, though she knew not
whither to direct her steps. She found, how-
ever, a marrow, little-frequented footway, where
the wild and overgrown bushes became less
dense. She came into a small woody valley,
into which the ruddy evening sky shone
brightly; but black threatening clouds were
over her, and a heavy pelting rain poured down.
At a little distance off she perceived a large old
oak. To this tree she bent her steps, not so
much for shelter as because she was unable to
go farther. Shivering with cold and wet, she
kneeled down under this tree, and raising her
hands to heaven, prayed with a weak, soft voice,
and more with the heart than the lips, amidst
a thousand tears, 0 merciful, merciful Father
in heaven, thou who so lovest all thy creatures,
PAWN A. 2'
who seestand hearest us everyw e e; thou seest
and hearest me in this lonely and dreadful forest,
where I, away from the wort, pray to thee;
0 hear my supplication; I know Int where to
find my mother; I left her in peril of death ; if
she still live, 0 Pestore her again o health.
Aas! should she be dead, then have I but thee
to cling to." She was silent for a time, but
wept and sobbed bitterly; then she exclaimed,
with a deep sigh, 0 have mercy upon me and
help me, gracious and merciful God!"
At this moment she was startled by a voice
from above, which said to her-"Be cow-
forted, my dear child, you shall be helped."
Paulina looked up, but saw no one. Overcome
with alarm and dread, she sank down, for she
supposed the voice came from heaven; but
when a man in a peasant's dress got down frim
the tree, Paulina again trembled with fear; but
the man said to her-" Be not in the least
afraid of me, my dear child, it is not as you
probably thought, the voice you heard did
not come from heaven; nevertheless it is God's
sending, that I was up in the very tree under
which you prayed: I am, it is true, only a poor,
mpreteoding man, yet I think the generous
Ged has chosen me to help you; and what-
ever is in my power I will faithfully do for
The man's name was Stephen; he was a
straw-plaiter living in the neighboring village.
He plaited bee-hives and all sorts of mats, but
he was especially clever in making strong im-
penetrable thatches, such as most of the houses
of the village were covered with. He also col-
lected oak and birch fungus, out of which he
prepared very good tinder. This very day he
had gathered a large quantity of fungus, as
well as a sack full of acorns. Some days ago,
he observed upon the tree which he had just
descended, many of these spongy excrescences
only now ripe and fit for use, and he wished to
take them with him before nightfall.
Stephen regarded the poor child with the
greatest compassion; the fine white dress was
drenched, her thin green bonnet dripped with
the rain, and her hair, wet through, hung down
upon her shoulders; her white silk shoes
were torn to pieces by the thorns and sharp
stones; her feet were wounded by the rugged-
ness of the road, which she herself had not
Tears came into the good man's eyes, and he
was very much grieved. He asked Paulina
by what accident she had wandwd into the
forest. She related to him the aisfortune
which she and her mother had met with.
"Ah," cried she, bursting into tears afresh,
"help my poor mother; lead me out of this
forest iato the high-road ; see whether my dea
mother cannot be saved, O, I beseech you!"
The man saw the anguish of the poor chld,
and said with emotion, "Yes, my dear child,
I will instantly hasten there." He asked her
at what part of the road the accident had
happened. She described the place, amd said,
among other things, that by a woody mouatain
there was a small foot-bridge, apon which
there stood a statue of a saint. Now, I know
the spot exactly," said the man, "but it is a
long way from here. It is impossible for you
to walk any farther with your wounded feet.
What is to be done?" He looked amoud;
not far from him stood his great basket, seh
as the country people are accustomed to carry
spon the back, and which contained the fn-
gas which he had collected. The man said,
" We must do the best we can; there is loom
enough for you in this basket; you shaM get
into it, and I will carry you on my back."
Paulina hesitated to get into the basket, bat
the man exclaimed-" Eh, what? necessity
breaks through stone walls; even the holy
apostle Paul escaped his enemies in a basket,
you would not wish to be better than he." As
Paulina still hesitated, and stood there unde-
cided, the man continued, "you are quite
wet through, and half frozen; it might cost
you your life; you must first go home with
me, dry and warm yourself, and then we will
"Oh no, no!" cried Paulina, "take me di-
rectly to my mother."
"Oh now," said the man, "the way almost
goes by my door; we must go in then for a
little while, and get a lantern to take with us,
for by the time we get to the high-road it will
be quite dark, and then we could render your
mother but little assistance without a light."
Paulina became calm; the man emptied the
basket, and hid the contents in a bush close
by; he did the same with the sack of acorns
which lay near the basket. Under the sack he
had deposited an old woollen cloak in order to
keep it dry. He wrapped the young lady in
this cloak, and lifted her into the basket. He
spread the empty sack over the basket that the
rain might not get in; he then hoisted the
basket on to his back, took his knotty stick in
his hand, and went with rapid steps towards
THE place where Stephen lived was a small
village in the mountains, the houses of which
were all thatched. Though it was only half an
hour's walk from the great oak, to Paulina it
appeared much more than an hour, as she
eagerly longed to reach it. As the woollen
mantle warmed her, and she began to feel
somewhat better, she often raised herself in
the basket, and looked out anxiously, to see
whether the good man's dwelling was not
yet in sight. Although they were now not far
from it, the darkness which had already set in,
prevented Paulina from discerning the cottages
of the wood; however, here and there she
could see a small light gleaming from the
windows, by which she became more com-
PA I L&.
Stephen reached his hoe at lat, nmd, with
his basket on the back, entered the rmo,
feebly lighted by a small oil lamp. His two
children, Mary and Joseph, jumped up to meet
with him. "Father," cried they, "have you
brought us any filberts or sloes from the
I bring you here," said he, "a poor little
stray lamb that I found in the forest."
The children were very anxious to see the
lamb. The father placed the basket upon the
ground; Anna the mother, trimmed the little
lamp, and showed him a light. All were
astonished when he lifted out of the basket,
instead of a lamb, the tender, lovely little giwl.
"Ah! the sweet charming child," exclaimed
the mother, where did you find her, my dear
Little Mary gazed on Paulina's clothing, for
she never before had seen seuh in the remote
fttle village. Little Joseph asked-" Is this
not one of the enchanted princesses that our
neighbours told of?" The father related the
history of the unfortunate little girl and her
mother. Joseph railed at the robbers; Mary
cried bitterly. The compassionate wife wrung
her hands, but the husband said-" Lamenta-
tions only are of no use, immediate assistance is
what is wanted; give the poor child some warm
soup, and then light the lantern, that I may
hasten to the assistance of the unfortunate
lady" ("if it is not too late," he would have
added, but suppressed it, in order not to distress
the little girl still more). "I will go and make
up the fire," said the wife, "and cook a good
soup." But Paulina answered-" I thank you
very much for your kindness, but indeed I
cannot eat now. I pray you light the lantern
immediately; and you, dear Stephen, put me
back in your basket, and hasten, hasten to my
Anna, however, said to Stephen-" If you
want to take the nearest way, you will scarcely
get through the forest with the basket on your
back, as you would be constantly obstructed
by the thick thorny bushes. Let the dear
child remain with me, and you go and search
for the mother; take her to the Hohenwald;
send us word, and then I will immediately
bring the little girl to her."
Paulina, who could offer no objection to this
proposal, said with a sigh: "Well, I will
remain here; but pray go at once, dear
Stephen, and make as much haste as you
can." The mother said to the boy: "Joseph,
fetch neighbour Michael, he must go too;
you alone, my dear Stephen, caanot reader
the poor lady enough assistance The boy
ran out; the neighbour came; but he was
not so charitable as Stephen and Anna; he
said: This is a dangerous baminess; we may
easily fall into the hands of the robbers."
"If," returned Stephen, "the cireumstaaees
were not so melancholy, I should indeed laugh
heartily. The poor people certainly need not
fear highwaymen. This is an advantage which
we have over the rich, nor have we to be
afraid of burglars breaking into our dwellings.
Poverty and want protect us in this respect."
Neighbour Michael, scratching his ear, said-
"Besides, there are other people who will
assist the unfortunate lady, why should we
Stephen replied, "The priest and Levite
who passed by the poor man fallen among the
sobbers might have thought as you do; let as
rather do as the good Samaritau did. For the
Lord Jesus says, Go and do likewise! "
This touched Michael, and he was ready to
Both the men started directly. Paaina
sat upon the bench by the stove, weeping
and praying. Anna in the meantime prepared
the soup, but Paulina, even with great persua-
sion, ate but a few spoonfuls of it. Anna made
up a bed for her on the bench near the stove,
and begged her to take a little rest. But Pan-
ina said t was impossible for her to sleep.
Beore an hour had elapsed, she was already
listening for the return of the two men, and
looked out intently, endeavouring to detect in
the darkness and distance the light of the lan-
tern, as a sign of the return of the two men,
from whom she hoped good tidings of her
She sighed a hundred times, "Oh God!
grant they may find and save my mother." She
passed the whole night at the window, crying
and praying. Not until it was nearly day-
break, overcome with fatigue and sleep, did
she lie down in her clothes upon her bed.
But her sleep was disturbed. She wept in
her dreams, and many times cried out, "Oh
mother, dearest mother! Begone, you robbers,
you murderers, away with you Oh help, mer-
TRACES OP THE ATTACK.
THE two men, Stephen and Michael, had by
this time reached the road. This is the place,"
said Stephen to his companion. Look, there is
some hay strewn about, and here are some
pieces of paper." He cast a light round about
with the lantern. "There," said he, lies a splin-
ter of the yellow coach-there lies a quantity of
broken glass from the coach windows; and
here-Oh good Heaven! the grass is stained
with blood !-God have mercy upon the unfor-
tunate lady! Yet, as we do not find her here,
I hope, please God, some charitable people have
come to her assistance and taken care of her."
Look," cried Michael, "here is a tobacco-
pipe, that I '1 put into my pocket, so I shall not
have come quite for nothing."
"The pipe," answered Stephen, no doubt,
belongs to the coachman; give it to me, I will
return it to him."
"Certainly, here it is; but, as there is no-
thing more for us to do here, we will make the
best of our way home." We must," said Ste-
phen, "do nothing by halves; what one has
begun, must be finished. By the marks of the
wheels, you see the overturned coach was got
up again and taken into the town. It is very
likely that the coachman, whom the robbers
had frightened away, returned to fetch the lady.
We must make particular enquiries for her in
the town, in order to tell her that her daughter
is safe, and afterwards take the news of the
mother back to the daughter."
Neighbour Michael evinced but little de-
sire to go with him. He meditated awhile,
but all at once he said, Very well, I'll go with
you: we shall certainly get something to drink
for the good news we shall bring to the mo-
ther; that is, if the robbers have left her
Stephen replied, "If she had not a farthing
left, I would still go. It is a Christian duty to
comfort the distressed in their affliction, and to
help them as well as we can."
It was night when the two men reached the
town. Stephen enquired after the unfortunate
coachman first at the Golden Rose Inn, as
most travellers used to stop there. All the
windows were lighted up. As he entered the
house, he saw the innkeeper down stairs, who
had a dish of roast meat in one hand and a
few bottles of wine in the other.
Stephen inquired for the coachman. "He
came here with a bleeding arm," said the land-
lord, but to my great regret I could not take
him in, although he generally stops with me.
Every part of my inn is occupied by visitors,
who have fled from the enemy, and such is the
case with all the inns to-night. Every garret is
occupied. However, I have obtained a lodging
for the coachman at the baker's over the way."
Then the innkeeper called out John, John!
show these men over to the baker's, where
we have quartered the wounded coachman."
"There," said he to Stephen and Michael,
"you will learn the particulars. As you see,
I have just now a great deal to do;" and
saying this, he hurried up stairs. Stephen and
Michael went off with John.
The baker was standing at the trough knead-
ing dough; the baker's wife sat at a table
forming the dough into rolls. As Stephen
began the sad story, both exclaimed, Do you
bring us any tidings of the poor lady and her
Stephen related what he knew, and the
baker said, "As soon as I heard of the ac-
cident, I put my horses to, in order to get
to the place, and to bring the lady here as
soon as possible; I thought the coach might be
so much damaged as not to be fit for use; and
my wife placed several beds in the cart, that
the wounded lady might be brought more
gently. I took my man and a neighbour, and
the magistrate let a few police soldiers go with
us, that we might be secure against robbers;
but, when we arrived at the spot, we found
the coach and the horses, but the lady was
Thank God !" said his wife, that the little
girl is saved; the poor lady will, no doubt, be
found again. But you good men-come with
me to the coachman-he is a really honest fel-
low, and he is very unhappy about the unfor-
tunate travellers-he will be very pleased to
hear that at least the little girl is in safety."
The baker's wife took a candle and showed
the two men up stairs into a very neat and
clean little room. The coachman was lying in
bed, and looked very pale-the surgeon had
already bandaged him, and pronounced the
wound to be very severe, but not dangerous.
Stephen told him the circumstances under
which he met with the little girl. When his
narrative was finished, the coachman said, I
was very fortunate to get among such good
people, and that my horses and the coach were
brought here safely. I am, however, still more
rejoiced to know that the young lady is pre-
served, and I think the wounds of the dear
lady will not be so dangerous as her daughter
supposes. The good lady may, perhaps, only
have fainted, and would soon revive, when
she would certainly get up immediately to
seek her child; she might suppose that the
young lady would hasten to the nearest place,
to fetch some people. The mother has cer-
tainly repaired thither; you will, assuredly,
find her there at Hohenwald."
The coachman raised himself up in the bed,
and pointed with his left hand to a chair near
his bed. "There," said he, "lies a small green
travelling bag; in it are the clothes of the
young lady. I had deposited the bag, because
it rained, under the provender which I had
taken with me for the horses. There the
scoundrels did not find it; take the bag with
you, and give it to the young lady."
Stephen gave the coachman the tobacco-pipe.
The coachman said, "It does not belong to
me, I don't smoke." Now," cried Michael,
eagerly, "it remains mine." Stephen said,
"We must first ask whether one of the men
did not leave it when they got the coach up."
The baker's wife observed, It is very likely
our man has lost it, for he has a pipe in his
mouth the whole day. But as you are pleased
with it," she said to Michael, keep the pipe;
my husband shall give the man another."
Michael put the pipe into his pocket, highly
pleased. Stephen took the green travelling
bag under his arm, assured the coachman he
would deliver it safely, and wished him a speedy
recovery. "Give my respects to the young
lady," said the coachman, "and tell her she
must be of good cheer. The merciful God, who
has brought her to good people, will also have
preserved her mother, who is a most excellent
The baker's wife said to the two men, It is
nearly morning, I will get you some breakfast."
She showed the men down stairs into a lower
room, went into the kitchen, and, after a little
while, brought up two pancakes and hot rolls,
with a small bottle of brandy.
Now that's capital," said Michael, "that
makes up for the money which I expected to
get from the lady." He enjoyed himself very
much, and would have stayed longer, but Ste-
phen urged him to make haste.
Both, at last, started on their way home.
Although it was still night, they met with high-
packed carts, with people flying from towns
and villages, and also many soldiers came along
who were retreating before the enemy. The
high road was not broad enough to accommo-
date all. Stephen was very glad that he and
his companion were at last able to strike into
the footpath through the forest, by which he
safely reached his home soon after sunrise.
THE MISSING MOTHER.
PAULINA was in a gentle slumber when Stephen
entered the room, and Anna motioned to him
to walk lightly, and to speak softly, that Pau-
lina might not be disturbed. Stephen repeated,
word for word, all the coachman had told him.
"Ah," said Anna with a sigh, "it is very un-
fortunate that you have not been able to meet
with the dear child's mother." Oh," replied
Stephen, I shall be sure to find her at Hohen-
wald, for, if she had been severely wounded,
she must have remained on the spot where the
coach was upset, and the kind-hearted baker
would have found her there; and, on the other
hand, where should she go but to the place
that she saw immediately before her?" At
this moment Paulina awoke and looked
strangely round the room, unable, for the in-
stant, to remember where she was; as soon,
however, as she saw Stephen, she exclaimed,
" Oh! you have come back at last. Where is
Now what Stephen thought was probable,
he asserted as a fact. Don't be unhappy,
my dear child, your mother is safe, and her
wound is not dangerous." "Thank God!"
exclaimed Paulina. "But why did she not
come here? Where is she?" "She is at Ho-
henwald, a neighboring village, the steeple
of which you saw from the place where the
accident happened," returned Stephen. "Oh,
let me go to her immediately!" cried Paulina,
springing from the bed-for she had not un-
dressed herself-and taking Stephen by the
hand, continued, "Oh, I entreat you, come
--come with me!" Stephen was embarrassed,
for he was quite uncertain in what condition
the poor lady might be, even if he succeeded
in finding her at all.
Anna, however, interposed. "You must let
my husband rest himself a little; he has been out
in the storm and rain all night; he is scarcely
able to stand, and if he does not lie down a
little while, he will be ill."
Paulina felt this, and begged him to go to
bed immediately, although she could not check
her tears, but cried and sobbed bitterly. Ste-
phen left the room, and Anna fetched the green
travelling bag, in order to divert Paulina's
thoughts. See, here is the parcel with your
clothes; the bag has been found, and you will
see your dear mother again." Paulina became
a little more composed; she dried her tears,
and smiled as she opened the bag to see if all
the clothes were still there; she unfolded the
dresses, apd laid them upon the table, together
with some books which had been packed up
with the clothes.
Stephen's children, who in consequence of the
late hour at which they went to bed, were not
up so early as usual this morning, now came
into the room. The father gave each of them
.one of the rolls the baker's wife had given him,
which was a great treat to the children.
When little Mary saw Paulina's dresses, she
exclaimed, Oh, what handsome clothes!"
"They are only my week-day clothes," said
Paulina, you should see my Sunday ones,
they are much more beautiful; but unfortu-
nately they were packed in the trunk which the
robbers have stolen. However, I am very glad
these are saved, for these and my linen here
are what I am in immediate want of."
The mother, looking at the books, said with
surprise, "What! do you learn out of all these
"Oh," replied Paulina, "I have read these
books through many times."
That," said Anna, pointing to a little red
morocco case with golden ornaments, "must be
a very beautiful book."
No," said Paulina, tears coming into her
eyes, that case contains the portrait of my
dear dear father, who died two years ago."
She took the miniature out of the case, and
Ah!" said Anna, that was a handsome,
Oh, let me see it," cried little Joseph. Ah,
he was a soldier; but he could not have been so
little as that." The poor boy had never seen
any pictures except those in the church, in
which the figures were the size of life.
Little Mary wanted also to see the miniature.
" Oh," she exclaimed, what a beautiful red
and gold dress he has on; and there, on his side
he has a golden cross, but that is not the right
place for it, I should wear it on my neck."
Paulina smiled at the simplicity of the chil-
dren, and, kissing the miniature, said, "0 mer-
ciful God, who hast taken my father from me,
0 give me back my dear mother!" She put the
picture back into the case, and asked Anna to
take her into another room to change her dress,
which had been so much disordered the previous
Stephen had lain down, but was quite unable
to sleep. He got up, and, unknown to Paulina,
went to Hohenwald, thinking that Paulina's
mother must be even moredistressed than Pau-
lina herself, and he confidently hoped to meet
with her at Hohenwald, and to rejoice her with
the news of her daughter. To his great sorrow,
however, no one there had heard anything of
her. He extended his search to all the neigh-
bouring villages and places, but in vain. He
returned home towards evening, and as he en-
tered the room Paulina exclaimed, You have
indeed slept a long time; when shall I see my
The next morning Stephen set out again, and
went to the more distant villages and hamlets;
he enquired at every mill and cottage around,
but no one could give him the slightest intelli-
gence of the unhappy lady. In the evening he
returned again, and now endeavoured to pacify
Paulina, by saying he could not get to many
places on account of the soldiers, and entreated
her to be patient.
The soldiers," said Anna, "will not be
there long, it is very likely they will go away to-
morrow; in the meantime there is no better
remedy than patience." Stephen continued his
search day after day, hoping each day to be
more fortunate than the day preceding; but he
was unable to obtain any clue that might lead
him to the poor lady
It is very strange," he said to Anna, one
evening, when he had returned home fatigued
with his unsuccessful search, the lady appears
to have vanished. She must be alive; I have
no doubt of that, for if she had died from the
accident, the body would have been found. If
she had been very severely wounded she could
only have been taken to some place near at
hand. With regard to you, my dear child,"
he continued, addressing himself to Paulina,
" you have no choice but to remain with us;
and I and my wife will be a father and mother
Oh, my dear dear mother !" exclaimed
Paulina, bursting into tears; "it is very pro-
bable she recovered a little, and got up to look
for me; oh, if she should have lost herself in the
pathless mountain forest, and have fallen from
some precipice, or have perished from cold and
wet in the rough stormy night, as I should
have done if Father Stephen had not taken
pity on me!" An inexpressible fear came over
Paulina, she felt a deathly anxiety; the room,
in which many people had now collected to
hear what news Stephen brought, seemed to
oppress her. "I will go to the church," she
said, and pray." 0
There was no church in the little village of
Tufenbach, which belonged to the parish of
Hohenwald, but at a little distance there was a
small ancient chapel, built upon a rock; service
was not now performed in it, but some of the
villagers were in the habit of going there to
Let me go there alone," said Paulina, "and
then I can pray more devoutly."
The sun was sinking in the west; the evening
was serene and beautiful after a boisterous and
stormy day. Paulina thought of her mother's
words, After every storm there comes a calm;
and after tribulation comes a time of happiness."
But she especially reflected upon what her
mother had said at the death of her father.
"In trouble and affliction we can find no rest
but in patiently submitting ourselves to the will
of God, without whose will no hair of our head
falls to the ground. Everything, even the most
disastrous event, turns to the advantage of
those who love God. In this belief alone we
find peace and consolation in the most afflicting
situations of life in which it may please God to
Paulina ascended the steps cut out in the
rock which led up t0 the chapel, and went in;
over the altar was an old but very beautiful pic-
ture of our Saviour in the Mount of Olives, and
the Comforting Angel with the Cup of Bitter-
ness. Paulina immediately recollected the
words of our Saviour, "Father, if thou be wil-
ling, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not
my will, but thine, be done !" She knelt down
upon the stone pavement, and prayed, "Oh,
Heavenly Father, put into my heart this sub-
mission to thy holy will; send me comfort from
heaven!" She prayed long and amid many
tears for her mother. Her troubled spirit be-
came calm; she felt an indescribable consola-
tion, as though a voice had said to her, Be of
good cheer-be patient; thy mother is pro-
tected, and thou shalt find her again."
Such a weight of sorrow and anguish seemed
taken from her heart, that she rose comforted,
yea joyful, from the ground, and she again fell
upon her knees to thank God for this heavenly
consolation; then, with a lightened heart, and
full of confidence in God's mercy, she returned
to the house of her kind benefactors, who were
astonished to see her come back so calm and
happy. "Yes, yes," said Stephen, prayer is
a great assistance; it is the best means in need
and adversity, and also tlh best remedy for sor-
row and anxiety; you found that, when you
were so unexpectedly assisted after your prayer
under the oak, and you find it now, after pray-
ing in the ehapel. Therefore the apostle James
says, "Is any among you afflicted? let him
CHILDREN THAT REQUIRE SUPERINTENDENCE.
ON the following morning Stephen and Anna
were up very early, and when the mother had
called up the children they all knelt down and
repeated their morning prayer; after which they
sat down to breakfast. When they had eaten
their bread and milk, Stephen said, We must
go to work again to-day. There is a great deal
to do in the field; the after-grass must be mown,
the potatoes dug up, the cabbages gathered.
After that the threshing commences; in which
we work for the farmer on the other side of the
mountain. So you see, mise, we are out all day,
and return home in the evening; this is how we
are engaged during the week, and on Sundays
we go to church, and pass the rest of the day
Paulina inquired what they did with the
children, who were yet so very young.
"We shut them up in the room," replied
This Paulina thought very hard.
What else can we do?" said Stephen; we
must earn our bread with our hands, out of
doors; but my wife comes home at noon and
gives them something to eat. This is the case
with the children of all daily labourers, and of
many farmers too."
Alas it is too true," said Anna; I have
always felt very much for the children of poor
"Well," said Paulina, I will take care of
little Mary and Joseph while you are away,
and cook for them and myself."
"Thank God!" exclaimed Anna, "I shall
go to work to day with a lighter heart than I
have ever done before."
Paulina was very fond of children, and knew
how to entertain them instructively and agree-
ably, and the little ones soon became very
much attached to her; she did not content
herself with guarding them from harm, but
talked to them in the manner her mother had
taught her; and especially about our Father in
heaven. She told them that it was God who
caused the apples and pears to grow, and that
he sent them milk and bread. Paulina was
delighted to find that the children listened
very: attentively, and took great interest in all
she told them.
In the afternoon, when Paulina had given
them their bread and milk, little Joseph said, as
he pushed back his empty plate, God is very
good;" and Mary said, "Father in heaven,
I thank thee for bread and milk."
Paulina repeated a hymn to them over and
over, until they knew it by heart, which they
said every morning and evening before and
This piece of poetry, composed by Paulina
herself, and which is rather to be esteemed Tor
its piety than its poetical merit, ran as fol-
On, Heavenly Father I aid thou me,
That I thy duteous child may be;
Thou, blessed Jesu loveat me,
With my heart therefore I love thee;
Oh, Holy Spirit keep me in
Thine arms from danger and from sin;
And I will praise and thank thy might,
For watching over me this night.
Oh grant, dear God I that here below
I never may offend thy love;
All upon earth to thee I owe,
And all my hopes of joy above.
Still more, dear Lord, thy grace extend,
And soothe to peace my thankful breast;
That so thy blessing may descend,
Awhile I sink to sweetest rest.
The children were most pleased, however, with
the little stories Paulina related to them, and
she always took for the subject of these narra-
tives something which the children had before
their eyes, or which had excited their attention,
as her mother used to do. On one occasion
she was peeling apples, and she related the fol-
"A father had six children; three sons and
three daughters. He gave the sons an apple
apiece, and told them that each was to divide
his apple with one of his sisters. Charles cut
his apple into two exactly equal parts, and let
his sister take which she pleased. Frederick
divided his into two unequal parts, and gave his
sister the smaller one. Augustus also divided
his unequally, but kept the smaller part himself,
and gave his sister the larger one."
Then Paulina asked which of the three
pleased them most.
Joseph said, "Frederick was a stingy fellow!
I should like to box his ears."
But what do you think of Charles ?" asked
He did not do wrong; I cannot blame him
and I cannot praise him."
"And how does the conduct of Augustus
please you ? you tell me, Mary."
Mary said Augustus was the best; he was
"Therefore you see, my dear children,
Charles was just, Frederick unjust and greedy,
but Augustus was kind and generous. We
ought always to be just and never unjust, and
we must be benevolent as often as we can and
have the opportunity."
Paulina did not always keep them in doors,
but frequently went out with them before the
house, and into the garden. Once, as they
were going out of the door, a dove flew down
from the roof, and picked up the corn which
Paulina usually scattered about for them. The
children showed Paulina the bee-hives in the
garden, and said (as if their teacher did not
know it), "the bees live in these; they are not
much larger than flies; but they are so clever
that they make the sweet honey."
Paulina now related the beautiful fable of
the bee and the dove.
"A dove was sitting upon a tree which
overhung a brook, and a bee flew to the
edge to drink, and fell in; it struggled
very hard, and was in peril of drowning.
The dove broke off a twig, and cast it into the
water to the poor insect. The bee clung to the
twig and was saved.. Soon after this the dove
was again sitting on the tree, and a fowler was
just taking aim at it with his gun. The bee
flew quickly past, and stung him in the hand.
The fowler, starting, pulled the trigger and
missed his aim, and the dove escaped."
"Now what may we learn from the dove
and what from the bee ?" asked Paulina.
The children answered correctly, "we should
always be compassionate, and ready to help,
as the dove was; and we should always be
grateful, and repay a good action, like the bee."
Paulina related many of the fables to them.
For example, that about the frog that wanted
to be as large as the ox, and puffed itself
till it burst. The one of the dog carrying a
piece of meat in his mouth across a brook, and
seeing the reflection of the meat in the water,
snapped at it, and let the piece of meat fall into
the water, and lost it altogether. Of a mouse
whom a lion defended from a cat, and how
the mouse saved the lion by gnawing the string
of the net in which he had been caught.
The children were delighted with the narra-
tives, and Paulina never omitted to tell them the
moral of them.
Winter had now set in; the ground was
covered with snow to a considerable depth, so
that the children could not go out. Paulina,
therefore, endeavoured to amuse them in doors.
One cold but fine winter's day, when the sun
was shining brightly in at the window, and the
trees and hedges were sparkling white with
the frost, Paulina fetched a bowl of warm
water with a little soap dissolved in it; she sat
down by the window, and dipped a reed into
the soap and water, and blew soap bubbles.
The children were astonished to see the trans-
parent globes increase in size, and their brilliant
colours. Oh, what pretty colours!" they cried;
" blue and red, green and yellow. How beau-
But," asked Joseph, where do all these
beautiful colours come from ? I don't see any
colour at all in the water in the bowl."
And Mary said, as one of the bubbles burst,
"And even in the drop of water that has come
from the bubble there is no colour. Where
has it gone to ?"
Paulina told them God had so arranged it
that these colours appear when the sun shines
on a drop of water, and that we see such
colours in every dew-drop and rain-drop which
falls from the roof, or sparkles on the leaves;
and that the rainbow itself, with its seven
colours, consists of nothing but drops of water
in the sunshine.
"We may observe a great deal that is
beautiful and wonderful in water," continued
Paulina; "the frost, which now makes the
trees so beautifully white, and all the snow
which covers the roofs of the houses, the
mountain and the valley, is nothing but water.
Water is a very great blessing, for, only
ask yourselves, how would the fields and
meadows look if it were never to rain any
more? What would men and animals do if
there were no springs and streams? What
should we do in the house without water ? "
Joseph said, "Last summer, when it was so
hot, and it did not rain for a long time, the
meadows were quite dried up; there were no
flowers nor grass to be seen; and one day father
took me with him through the fields; the sun
was scorching, and we did not meet with a
brook or spring for a long time, and I nearly
fainted with thirst."
"If we had no water," said Mary, ":we
could not cook nor wash. Once the waterpipe
in our house was stopped, and we had no water:
mother was so distressed; and we were all so
pleased when it came again."
You see, then," said Paulina, "what an in-
estimable blessing water is. Come, then, let us
be very thankful to God for it." She prayed to
them, and they repeated every word after her,
They were now very anxious to blow soap
bubbles themselves, which Paulina allowed
them to do: she gave each of them a reed, and
showed them how to do it.
They were quite enraptured with their new
acquisition, and they often afterwards spent half
an hour at it very pleasantly.
One evening, the father and mother did not
come home till late. Paulina sat with the
children by the stove, the door of which she
had opened, and was watching the happy faces
of the children illumed by the red light of the
fire, and amused them by throwing dry twigs
upon the hot ashes, which blazed up, and gave
a great light. She left the room to fetch a pan
of potatoes to put them to the fire. When she
returned, she found Joseph had taken out of the
fire a twig, still burning at one end, and was
swinging it rapidly round, calling out, Look,
here is a beautiful fiery wheel." Mary had
also a piece of burning wood, which she
moved very quickly backwards and forwards,
saying, Look at this beautiful red ribbon; what
a pity it is we cannot touch it without being
burnt, and that it goes out so soon."
"Oh, then," said Paulina," you cannot be left
a moment but you run into danger."
She cautioned them very strongly, telling
them that children ought never to play with fire.
There are many examples," she said, "where
children left alone have incautiously meddled
with fire, and have been burnt to death. I must
relate to you an accident," she continued,
"which I remember myself. A thoughtless girl
came home late one evening, and sewed on the
band of her apron, which had been torn off.
Not being able to find the scissors, she burnt
the thread from the ball with the candle, threw
the ball back into the basketful of linen, and
went to bed.
"The very little spark at the end of the
bread continued to burn, and gradually set
fire to the ball; then the linen in the basket
caught fire, and the flames of the basket set fire
tt the bed. The room, the house, the ad-
joining houses, and the whole village, were
reduced to ashes, and several people also lost
their lives. A mere spark may give rise to such
a great misfortune; but a still more dangerous
spark is the least wickedness in the human
heart. The smallest bad inclination gets the
upper hand if we do not suppress it, and plunges
us into temporal and eternal ruin. But, although
fire may do so much mischief, it is very useful.
Now tell me what is fire useful for?"
"Oh," said Joseph, if we had no fire the
room would be cold, and we should be obliged
to sit in the dark."
Mary said, If there were no fire mother could
not boil the milk, nor bake the bread, nor cook
the potatoes; and she could not roast apples for
us; she would not be able to heat the iron, and
then she could not iron her caps and my collars."
When the children had got to the end of their
answers Paulina helped them by questions.
"Tell me what the smith, the potter, the
brickmaker would do without fire? How could
the carpenters, joiners, ploughmen, or woodmen
do their work, if they had no iron tools, which
cannot be made without fire ? and what should
we do without scissor and needles; and how
would our household work get on without
The children vied with each other in giving
answers, and at the end, Paulina put them all
together, and said, "You see, then, what a great
blessing fire is; how very useful it is to us."
Joseph being now just seven years old, and
Mary nearly six, it was time they should go to
school; but the nearest school was at Hohen-
wald, which was at least a good hour's walk
distant, and the way thither was through a deep
hollow, filled with snow, and over a high woody
mountain, which rendered it impossible for
the children to go there.
Paulina was anxious that at least they should
learn their letters. So as she had no A B C
books, she drew letters as they are printed in
books, but much larger, upon pieces of stiff
paper. The children soon learnt to name
them correctly. Then she put them together
to form syllables, and these they soon learnt.
After they could do this, she made them point
out the letters in one of her books, and showed
them words of one syllable, which they were
also soon able to read. The children took
great pleasure in ll this, and everything me-
ceeded beyond Paulina's expectations.
One day the mother brought home from
the market three plates, on each of which was a
rhyme. Mary read with her pretty litte clear
"For all that's good,
In drink and food,
Let God be thank'd."
Joseph read another-
"In all thou eat'st be moderate, that so
Thine appetite be not thine overthrow."
And Mary asked to read the third, and read
"One portion of thy food belongs to thee,
Give one unto thy guest right willingly."
The mother was so surprised and pleased
to hear her children read these little lines so
prettily, that the tears came into her eyes. Pau-
lina said, These verses give us three excellent
lessons as to how we should behave with regard
to food and drink. We are to bethankful to God
for them, to use them with moderation, and to
share them cheerfully with our neighbour."
The next morning Anna brought a basket of
flax and a distaff into the room, and said,
"This week and next there is no work for me
to do at the farm, so I shall go on with my
"How can you do that?" asked Paulina;
"you have no spinning-wheel in the house."
"You shall soon see," replied Anna, "how
we can spin without a wheel;" and then she
put some flax on the distaff, and commenced
to spin it on to the spindle. The children
also fetched their little distaffs and set to work.
Paulina was surprised to see how skilfully
they managed it, and what pleasure they all
seemed to take in it; for it appeared to her
very difficult. She had seen spinning with the
wheel, and would perhaps herself have been
able to spin that way; but spinning with a dis-
taff was quite new to her. She asked Anna to
teach her, and was very pleased to find she
soon succeeded excellently.
Anna, although such a clever spinner, did
not know how to knit. Paulina, therefore, set
to work to teach the children knitting, which
they learnt very soon. Many girls also came
from tle neighboring houses, and asked
Paulina to teach them. So she fixed certain
hours in the day for them to come, and she
very soon had a capital knitting cdas; even
little Mary made herself a pair of stockings.
Anna and the parents in the village pro-
nounced knitting to be a very useful art. We
shall not need to spend any more money for
stockings," they said, "for even the children
can make their own, and earn a little money
too by knitting."
While the class sat round engaged with
knitting, Paulina related to them stories, espe-
cially from the Bible. Now and then she sang
to them, and also taught them some verses to
sing with her.
Thus the winter passed away, and now the
spring began to show itself. The sun appeared
again in the valley, warm and bright; ice and
snow melted and disappeared; the brook again
flowed gently on, as clear as crystal; between
its banks, newly clad with grass, the tender
yellow-green leaves of the birch burst forth,
and the ground became each day more green.
The thorn was laden with its snowy blossom,
and the beautiful yellow primrose began to
open. Finches and yellow-hammers sang mer-
rily upon the trees ; everything seemed to feel
new life, and the children sang and jumped
about for joy. Paulina's grateful scholars
brought her a nosegay of the first violets, and
Paulina taught them some songs for spring-
time, and a ballad to the violet.
THREE SPRING-TIME SONGS FOR CHILDREN.
WE thank thee, God, for the forests green,
For yon bright heaven's celestial blue ;
For flowers, which, bursting forth, are seen
Gemming the meads of varied hue.
It is thine own Almighty power
Illumes with light this earthly sod;
That thou sustain'st our every hour,
We give thee grateful thanks, 0 God!
That the trees blossom white and red,
By God's great laws;
That we receive our milk and bread,
God is the cause;
He gives us health, therefore with voice
And heart we praise him, and rejoice.
How beautiful the landscape seems
In the spring-time of the year;
When fresh and bright as childhood's dreams,
The glowing scenes appear.
The hill and vale shine joyously
In the beams of the rising sun;
But think how bright all things will be
When our mortal race is run!
THE SONG OF THE VIOLET, FOR CHILDREN.
THE lowly violet, with flowers so blue,
Concealed 'mid leaves all fill'd with silver dew,
Blooms on unseen within her calm retreat,
And scatters on the breeze her fragrance sweet;
Lovely as this sweet, modest flower, is he,
Who, doing good with true humility,
Seeks in his sphere his brother man to bless,
And thus secures his neighbour's happiness.
THE spring, which gladdens most hearts, had
not the same effect on Paulina and the good
people with whom she now lived; but rather
brought them sorrowful days. For not only
did war oppress the country, but an epidemic
broke out amongst the cattle.
The kind country people, who had received
Paulina so well, lost their only cow, and the
affliction of the children and their parents was
very great. Alas !" exclaimed they, we have
now lost the whole of our fortune." Paulina
likewise lamented the loss of the animal, which
she often had fed with a portion of her own
bread, but she could not conceive how it was
that the loss of the cow should be felt so deeply
by the poor people. However, when she saw
that they were not in circumstances to replace
their loss by purchasing another, she was then
able to enter into their feelings. Formerly the
children regularly had milk in the morning for
breakfast, and some food prepared from milk
for dinner; but now they were obliged to be
contented with a soup made of bread and water
only for breakfast and supper, of which the
children often complained; the mother, how-
ever, would say: "You see now, how thankful
we ought to have been to God when we had
milk and butter; perhaps we have not been
grateful enough, and we must even now bless
the Lord that we have still bread, for I fear
that sooner or later I shall not be able to pro-
vide even this for you. Having lost our cow,
our little acre cannot be ploughed, and we
shall have a very poor harvest. We shall not
so soon be able to purchase another cow, for
a good one costs at least 80 florins. O Lord,
have mercy upon us!"
The loss of the cow was not their only mis-
fortune; another calamity fell to their lot.
Stephen was indebted to a farmer at Hohenwald
the sum of a hundred florins.
The farmer had lost a great portion of his
cattle, and, being in want of money, he asked
Stephen for the sum he owed him; but, Stephen
not being able to comply with his request,
begged for a prolongation of the term, and the
farmer granted him another month. Stephen
had done all in his power to obtain the money
from rich acquaintances, but his endeavours
were fruitless; and he often met with even an
offensive denial, when he made an application.
The farmer granted him another week, but
Stephen could not get the money together. At
last the creditor summoned him before the
court, and Stephen appeared, and asked for an
extension of the time. Consider the poverty
into which I have fallen," said he to the farmer;
" I have always been industrious, and never
thrown away uselessly a penny, or wronged any
one. Grant me time, and you "shall be paid
every farthing;" yet the plaintiff insisted on
having his money. The judge himself tried to
persuade him to wait, by assuring him that he
did not think the man would wrong him,
adding, he might easily let the money stand
over for a short time, and thus perform an act
of charity; but the farmer only answered, I
must buy some cows, and cannot do it without
Well," said the judge, "if you insist, I
must order the poor man's cottage to be sold;
but take my advice, do not enforce the judg-
ment, for no blessing will attend that money.
Consider that you may fall into similar circum-
stances." The farmer might not perhaps have
been so hard had it not been for the bailiff,
who secretly incited the persecutor to act thus.
f' Insist upon having your money," said he,
" while there is still a chance, for, if you wait four
weeks longer, all may be lost." He said this
without any reason. But, as is often the case
with such people, he did it for his own benefit;
moreover, he was not friendly inclined to-
wards poor Stephen, who had once refused him
an unjust request. Though the words of the
judge were apparently directed only to the
farmer, the bailiff might have taken them as a
hint to himself, but he did not care about it.
After the trial he applied to the farmer for a
little recompense for the good advice. The
foolish man gave him a florin, and the bailiff
went directly into a public-house to spend the
ill-gained money in drinking and gambling.
Stephen, after having heard the verdict, was
very much cast down, and went home slowly.
In walking through the little forest which he
had to cross, he knelt down and prayed to
heaven that the Lord might in his mercy loqk
upon him and help him out of his great affliction,
for the sake of his poor helpless children.
His countenance was marked with sorrow,
and his eyes red from weeping. He approached
his cottage, from which he and his family were
soon to be driven away.
His wife Anna, who eagerly awaited his re-
turn, to know the result of the trial, was stand-
ing at the door, and as soon as she perceived
him, she could not help (even before he was
near) loudly crying out, "Wel! what is the
result ?" Alas!" replied Stephen, with a deep
sigh, our cottage must be sold."
Anna, wringing her hands, gave utterance to
bitter lamentations; and when she and Stephen
entered the room, the children began to cry, and
a scene of heart-rending misery presented itself.
Stephen, pale and sad, seated himself, and
with tears in his eyes he looked at his children,
who surrounded him: Anna stood near him,
still weeping bitterly.
Little Mary endeavoured to comfort the
parents, saying: "I think of your own words,
dear father: God forsaketh not those who con-
fide in him;" and Joseph said to his mother,
" Pray do not weep any more, as if there were
no God in heaven. Think of Paulina's saying:-
'In need remember this,
Where faith is, there is bliss.'"
Paulina herself sat in a corner, praying and
weeping, but all at once she got up, wiped away
her tears, and exclaimed, Yes, there is a God,
and he is a merciful one; he has once helped
me, and he will also help you, and you will see
how, directly." So saying, she left the room.
The father and mother looked at each other
with astonishment. The mother said, "What
does the good child mean ?" the father, shaking
his head, said "There is no help!" Paulina
went into her little room, from whence she re-
turned immediately, holding in her hand a por-
trait of her late father, framed in gold, and set
Paulina looked at it, pressed it to her breast,
kissed it, and said: This miniature is the only
remembrance I have of my poor departed
father, and now that it has pleased God to
separate me from my dear mother, it is twice as
dear to me. I would not sell it for any price,
not for mountains of gold But for you, in order
to relieve you from your present troubles, no-
thing can be too costly."
Raising her tearful eyes to heaven, she ex-
claimed, Blessed spirit of my father, you will
certainly pardon me for parting with thy image
in order to relieve my benefactors from their
troubles; you too mother, when I meet you in
heaven will not be dissatisfied with my present
conduct; yes! God himself, my heart tells me,
approves of it, and the very thought of acting
thus was by his inspiration." Then, turning to
Stephen, she said, "go to a jeweller in the
town and sell this miniature; if the man be
honest, he will most certainly give you as much
as will enable you to pay your heartless creditor,
and to purchase another cow. I have often
heard my mother say that the frame of this
little picture cost more than four hundred
Stephen took the miniature and, looking at it
very attentively, said, I am no judge of these
things, but I fear they will laugh at me if I
ask so much money for it." "The picture
itself," answered Paulina, cost but very little,
but the frame and the diamonds with which it is
set are very costly. Let me kiss the picture once
more before I part with it for ever." She wetted
it with her tears. The stones sparkled beauti-
fully. How much more beautiful in the sight
of God were the tears that fell from her eyes !
Stephen said, I perceive you value the pic-
ture itself far more than the gold and diamonds.
If such is the case, we can have the picture
taken out and sell the frame." Paulina was
delighted with this idea, which had not struck
her. "What a silly girl I am," said she, "that
I did not think of this! Oh,now I feel happy,
for mother and I set little value on gold and
diamonds, and to help you out of your trouble
is dearer to me than all the gold and diamonds
in the world."
ANOTHER SAD OCCURRENCE.
THE following morning Stephen rose early to
go to the town. Anna got him his breakfast,
which consisted only of some bread and salt
boiled in water, and wrapped up a large piece
of brown bread to take with him for his dinner.
It being market-day at the town, she packed up
all the thread she had finished, for him to sell
As soon as he reached the town, he went
straight to the jeweller's, whom he found busily
engaged in his workshop. Stephen took off his
cap, pulled the miniature out of his pocket, and
said, "Mr. Jeweller, I have got something here
very beautiful; now tell me honestly what it is
worth. If we can come to terms, I shall have
no objection to sell you the gold and diamonds;
but I must have the portrait taken out, for it is
not for sale."
It struck the jeweller at once that the por-
trait might be stolen, and carefully examining
it, he said to himself, How could such a
valuable article fall into the hands of so poor
a man ? It was only yesterday that a list of
stolen property was privately communicated to
me by the police, with instructions to inform
them immediately if any of the articles were
offered to me for sale; and a miniature of this
description was particularly mentioned, and I
have no doubt that this is the very one."
The jeweller, however, did not let Stephen
see his suspicion. He merely said, As you
perceive, I have some silver melting on the fire,
and cannot leave it. It also requires time to
take out the portrait, to weigh the gold, and to
examine the precious stones, which are really
very beautiful. Come back in half an hour-
I shall then be able to give you a satisfactory
answer as to the real value of the frame."
"Very well," said the honest Stephen;
"meanwhile I will sell my thread, and after
that I will get a glass of beer in the next pub-
lic-house, and eat the piece of bread which
I have got in my pocket." He went away
very contentedly, without suspecting anything
The jeweller immediately washed his hands
and face, put on his Sunday coat, and hastened
with the portrait to the magistrate, whom he
informed that a poor man had offered it to him
for sale. Two officers were immediately des-
patched to take the suspected man into custody.
They went to the jeweller's house and hid
themselves in a small room adjoining the shop,
awaiting his return.
Stephen cheerfully entered the jeweller's shop
and asked: "Well, sir, how stands our busi-
ness ? "
"You shall learn that instantly," said the
jeweller, opening the door, through which the
two officers suddenly appeared. They seized
Stephen, though he strongly asserted his inno-
cence, and took him before the magistrate.
Stephen related how the portrait had come
into his possession, but the magistrate, who was
just then much occupied, and a man of rather
an irritable temper, replied sharply, It is not
at all my business to investigate these circum-
stances. A band of thieves have been taken
up and lodged in the prison of a neighboring
town. Amongst other articles stolen by them,
this very portrait has also been described. I
must order you to the same prison, and there
you will be examined as to the means by which
the portrait came into your possession. If you
can prove that you are neither a thief nor a re-
ceiver of stolen goods, I shall be glad, but I
fear you will not get off so easily."
The innocent Stephen was placed in a cart,
and conveyed to the town, accompanied by an
armed soldier on each side of him. In passing
through the market-place, an immense crowd
gathered round the cart, and many cried out:
"Look, this is also one of the notorious band;
he won't escape the gallows."
Some countryfolks, however, who were also
standing by, and knew Stephen, pitied him.
'Oh, the poor man! said they, what a
trouble it will be to his wife and children!
Heaven grant he may be innocent, and that his
innocence may be proved !"
Stephen, with his two companions, reached
the town on the evening of the following day.
The cart stopped before the court house, a large
sombre building. One of the soldiers went
in to deliver the commitment, which he had
brought with him; the other in the meantime
After a while the order was given to put the
prisoner into a dungeon. It was already night!
After an hour had passed, the gaoler came with
a lantern, bringing a basin of soup, some bread,
and a jug of water; he put it all together on a
small stone table and wished the prisoner good
night, taking away the light, and leaving the
prisoner alone in the dark.
The wretched Stephen fell down on his knees,
and with raised hands prayed to heaven.
He felt much easier after he had prayed.
He rose and said, It is true, and will remain
so for ever, sorrows and grief urge man to pray,
and the prayer expels sorrows and grief, and
makes us more intimate with God, and it is
better that we should cling to Almighty God,
and surrender to him both soul and body.
What are all the pleasures of this world to such
an intimacy with the Lord? He sends, there-
fore, many troubles to bring men nearer to
Thus meditating, he laid down on his miser-
A MOST SINGULAR APPEARANCE IN A PRISON.
Poor Stephen could not sleep the whole night
through, though he felt much easier, for he was
thinking of his family; however, he relied upon
his guiltlessness, but, more than that, upon his
belief in God. Not before day-break did he
close his eyes, and then he slept a few hours.
When he awoke he looked around his small
prison with horror. The small window was
guarded by iron bars, the oaken door was
tipped with iron work, and the floor was paved
with bricks. That morning seemed to him
longer than any one ever was before. '
When the sun shone at mid-day through the
iron bars, and the brilliant rays on the pave-
ment reflected a reddish light on the walls of
the prison, the servant of the gaoler entered
with his dinner. When Stephen asked if he
should not soon be examined, the servant
answered very abruptly, Not to day," and
then left him. Stephen saw him again, when
he brought his supper, and then only for a
single moment. He" felt very uneasy to pass
a second niglt in prison, and laid down quite
dressed on the poor bed, consisting of a
bundle of straw, a pillow, and a woollen
coverlet. In the dead of night he heard a clock
striking from a distant steeple and counted the
hours. It had scarcely struck eleven, when
he perceived somebody walking through that
passage which led to his prison: keys were
rattled, and the door was opened; it was the
gaoler himself, whom he never had seen before,
holding a lantern in one hand, and his cap in
the other, and remained before the door; after
him a servant in a scarlet livery laced with gold
entered, and put two burning wax candles, on
very fine candlesticks, on the small table of the
prison. Then two lady-like women, dressed in
silk cloaks and velvet bonnets, accompanied by
a gentleman in a uniform embroidered with
gold, a sword at his side, and his hat in his
hand, entered, and another servant brought
Stephen rose, pulled off his cap, and bowed
before the unexpected guests as low as he could.
Every one of them looked on him silently for a
Dear friend," said, at last, that lady who had
entered the first, "I have to speak to you about
various matters. Sit down," she said, during
which she and the other lady sat down on
I hope, my dear Stephen," she continued,
"that you have spoken the truth in your reply
to the examinations before the magistrate, and
you will indeed perfectly convince me of it, if
you can give me proper answers to what I am
now going to ask of you."
The lady then asked of Stephen a great many
questions, whether he had really received the
little picture out of the hand of a lady, how that
lady was called, how old, and how tall she was,
and of what colour were her eyes; and many
When Stephen had answered upon all these
matters to the satisfaction of the lady, she ex-
It is she-it is my daughter, whom I
thought lost! Oh, how shall I thank thee,
Almighty Father in Heaven, that thou grantest
me the mercy to find her again I am highly
indebted to you, too, my dear Stephen, and
to your good wife. And are you sure that my
daughter is still in your house ? "
I am quite sure of it, ma'am," said Stephen;
"I left her there, and if you '11 send somebody
there, you 'll find it so. I would not deceive you,
"Well then, that will do," said the lady,
highly delighted; and then, addressing the
gentleman in the uniform, she continued-
"What do you think of it, sir ? Is it not pos-
sible that this man may be set free ? for I think
of taking him with me, and to set out at day-
break to see my daughter again."
The president (for the gentleman in the uni-
form was he) who had looked on Stephen with
a penetrating look, and had heard every word
most attentively, answered, I am quite con-
vinced of the innocence of this man. You may
take him now with you if you like, lady; but
I cannot allow him to leave the town before
he is strictly examined about everything that
may lead us to find out the robbers."
"Well," said the Lady Gruenthal, rising
from her seat, come along with us, my good
Both'ladies then left the prison, accompanied
by the president, and followed by Stephen, who
shed tears of joy at being set free in such an
honourable manner. The president assisted the
two ladies to get into a splendid coach, which
stopped at the entrance to the gaol, and then
sat down by their side, while Stephen asked
the coachman to allow him to sit near him
on the box: I shall not otherwise be able to
follow the coach," he said; "perhaps I shall
lose my way in the dark, and not be able to
find the house."
"Get in, Stephen," said Lady Grenthal,
"there is room enough for you."
I'll do that with pleasure, ma'am," said
Stephen, if you'll not think me obtruding
when I take the liberty."
He then quickly got into the coach, which
stopped before the house where the ladies
lived. Both walked in, followed by Stephen.
Just when they entered the parlour, a clock on
a marble table near the wall struck twelve. It
is rather late," said Lady Gruenthal, there-
fore, good night, my good Stephen; we have to
speak together to-morrow about many different
things. Sleep well after the terror you have
Stephen was led by a servant to a bedroom;
he never had seen such a splendid one in all his
life. The servant put the silver candlestick,
with the burning wax candle on it, which he
held in his hand, on the table, which was covered
with a rich colored cover, wished Stephen, very
kindly, good night," and left the room.
All this appeared to Stephen as a dream, so
sudden was the change from the dull prison into
this splendid room. To convince himself, there-
fore, that he was really awake, he pinched his
ear. Yes," indeed, he said, cheerfully-it is
no dream-I am quite awake, and praise and
thanks be to thee, Almighty God, that it is
He fell upon his knees and prayed, 0 Lord,
how shall I thank thee that thou hast granted
my prayers instantly, hast made evident my in-
nocence, redeemed me from prison, and pre-
pared such a great rejoicing for Miss Paulina
and her mother."
HISTORY OF THE LOST MOTHER.
THE sun had already risen, and shone genially
through the high windows in the nicely-painted
room, when Stephen awoke next morning. He
got up quickly, and dressed himself, looking all
the time at the pictures in the golden frames
with new astonishment.
"Dear me," he thought, "how expensive
these pictures must have been; if that little
miniature painting cost nearly six ducats, such
a large miniature painting will cost, of course,
as many hundred florins. And besides that,
these large frames of gold, dear me, what a
great deal of money they must be worth. But
after all, I do not think it right to hang the
gold in such a way on the wall; how many
poor people could be helped with it!" He
was not aware that a great quantity of wood
could be gilded so beautifully with a single
ducat that it almost appeared like gold. As
soon as he was dressed a servant came,
wishing him good morning, and said that
the breakfast was ready. Stephen went down
stairs, where he found both ladies taking
chocolate. Lady Gruenthal poured out a cup,
and presented it to Stephen; as soon as he
had tasted the brown drink he made a very
strange face, and said, "That is a strange cup
of coffee, ma'am; that tastes like physic to me.
Please, ma'am, will you not give me some good
strong onion-soup, and a small glass of brandy?
I should rather prefer it."
The ladies smiled, and Lady Gruenthal
ordered the servant to comply with Stephen's
wishes. The servant soon returned with the
soup, and a small glass of brandy. Stephen
ate the soup with good appetite, and drank
the glass at one draught. "Ah, that's good
brandy," he said, "I never tasted such before."
Then he was asked to give an exact and re-
gular account of what had happened to Paulina,
from the moment he had found her in the forest
till she gave him the portrait; he did it with
pleasure, during which both ladies listened to
his tale very attentively. Paulina's mother was
several times heartily moved, particularly when
he told how much Paulina loved her father and
mother, how religious and industrious she was,
in what manner she taught his children, how
thankful she had been to him and his wife,
what pity she had shown for his misery, but
how hard it had been to her to part with that
"Yes, indeed, there was a dispute in her
heart between her pity for me and my chil-
dren and her affection to her deceased father.
Ah, how vehemently did she cry when she
thought of parting for ever with the picture of
her dear father! She kissed it many a time, wet-
ting it with her tears." Lady Gruenthal, too,
began to weep.
But now, ma'am, it is your turn to tell me
also," he said, when he had finished his tale,
"how did it happen that you disappeared so
suddenly, as if some angel had carried you off?
Why did you not let me hear of you, and why
did you not make enquiries after your child,
as you are so good a mother as I see? Where
have you been in the meantime, and how did
it happen that you came to me at midnight
and redeemed me from the horrible prison?
I am quite anxious to know all that exactly."
Lady Gruenthal told him everything cir-
cumstantially; but the following is the pur-
After Lady Gruenthal had been left lying on
the high road in the forest, without giving the
least sign of life, the coachman had escaped,
and Paulina had hastened to the next village
to call for assistance. Another coach drove on
the road on which Mr. Eichburg was, with his
lady, also flying from the enemy. They had
scarcely perceived the overturned coach and
the helpless lady when they stopped, got out to
assist the unfortunate lady who had been left
on the road bleeding.
Mrs. Eichburg approaching, turned pale with
horror, and said, Heavens! it is the Lady
Gruenthal, my best, my dearest friend!" She
then kneeled at her side, took her in her arms,
called her kindly by her name, and asked several
times, during which she shed tears, "Sophia,
my dear friend, can you not hear me? Do you
not know my voice? It is I, your true friend,
Amalia! Oh yes, if you will only look in my
face! If you will only press my hand, that I
may know you hear me !"
The unfortunate lady, however, continued in-
Oh, my God !" said the afflicted friend, "I
fear she is dying in my arms! What shall I
Mr. Eichburg, her husband, stood near her,
deeply afflicted, his hands clasped. "All we
can do now is to bring her into our coach,"
said he; "hers seems to be a hackney-coach,
and so damaged that it is scarcely of any
more use; the coachman, too, has escaped. It
seems to me that the good lady has fallen
amongst robbers, as her trunk is cut off, and the
Lady Eichburg took her finely-embroidered
handkerchief off her neck, and dressed carefully
the bleeding wound of her friend, and then
brought her, with the assistance of her husband,
her chambermaid, and her servant, into her car-
riage, and Mr. Eichburg ordered the coachman
to drive on as fast as he could. He had the
intention to go to his castle, Eichburg, situated
in a woody and most solitary part of the country,
where he thought to be safe with his lady for
His wife quite agreed to it, and they left, half
an hour from town, the high road, and followed
that leading to Eichburg, where they arrived
safely, and where the castellan and the game-
keeper, who lived there, were highly delighted
to see their master and mistress again, after
so long an absence from home.
The surgeon did not doubt that the lady
might be cured, after having probed the dan-
gerous wound in her head; and she recovered
slowly. It was three weeks before she awoke,
on a fine morning, as from a long sleep, and
recovered her senses, which she seemed to have
lost altogether. She looked for a long time
around the room, which was of an antique style,
quite astonished how she had come there, and
what had happened to her. But as soon as
she perceived Lady Eichburg, she stretched
forth her arms and said, "God bless you, my
dear Amalia, where is my Paulina?"
Lady Eichburg, who had often thought of
the good child, did not know that she had been
with her mother on the journey; she thought
Paulina was still in that institution whereto her
mother had had a mind to send her. She was,
therefore, very sorry indeed that nobody knew
neither where she was, nor whether she was still
alive. When Paulina's mother perceived how
confused her friend was about that ques-
tion, and that she was not able to answer it,
she was so strongly affected that her condi-
tion grew worse again. Both of the ladies
were much afflicted about it, but it was quite
impossible for them to make any enquiries
about the young lady, for the hostile soldiers
were encamped on that part of the road where
the coach was attacked.
After a time even the spacious castle of Eich-
burg was made a military hospital by the enemy,
who was more and more advancing; and Mr.
Eichburg was therefore obliged to go with the
two ladies to the next town, where he imme-
diately informed the district court of the rob-
bery committed. Many of a notorious gang of
robbers, mostly gipsies, were already taken pri-
soners, and as Lady Gruenthal had not the least
doubt that the robber of very dark complexion,
who had wished her a good evening in the
forest, was a gipsy, it appeared certain that
Paulina was robbed by gipsies, a case which
happened every day to children. The prisoner-
gipsies were examined, but nobody would know
anything of such a child, and the enquiry was
very much prolonged; and further, all denied
to have even seen such a portrait as was de-
scribed to them, though they confessed will-
ingly to have taken many different things of a
high value; and as there was no mail for a
long time on account of the war which had
commenced again a few days since, all the dis-
trict courts were enjoined to make enquiries
about the stolen things, and especially about
the portrait, to find out, perhaps, other thieves
Mr. Eichburg, perfectly recovered, returned
to his regiment, of which he was captain, and
the two ladies remained, therefore, in town. It
was ten o'clock at night, and they were just
ready to go to sleep, when they heard a carriage
stop before the door. The president of the
district court quickly ascended the staircase and
entered. "We are at last, madame, upon
the track to find Miss Paulina," he said, ad-
dressing Lady Gruenthal. "Look here, if you
please; do you know this picture?"
Ah, that is the likeness of my dear husband."
she exclaimed, in a great emotion, the same
that was stolen from me on the journey; and
what do you know of Paulina?"
The president related to her the whole report
which he had received that night, amongst other
papers, and the portrait. Lady Gruenthal
wished to see immediately that man, and to
speak to him; the humane president offered her,
therefore, a place in his carriage, and to ride
immediately to the jail where the man was.
And thus did it happen," finished Lady
Gruenthal her tale, "that we came to see you
so late at night."
Oh, now it appears clear enough that it was
quite impossible for me to find you out, ma'am.
I only looked for you in the neighbourhood, I
had not the least idea of your having made so
long a journey, and even if I had known
it, it would have been quite impossible for me
to come to you, because nobody was allowed
to pass the outposts of the enemy. But, how-
ever, the Lord himself took care of the good
lady, and sent her the best friends in her misery.
Angels of heaven could not have taken more
care of you. The Almighty God led even the
young lady herself to people, however poor
they might be, who would have divided their
hearts with her to assist her."