Citation
Holly and mistletoe

Material Information

Title:
Holly and mistletoe
Creator:
Koch, Rosalie, 1811-1880
Trauermantel ( Translator )
Crosby, Nichols, and Company ( Publisher )
University Press (Cambridge, Mass.) ( Printer )
Welch, Bigelow & Co ( Electrotyper )
Place of Publication:
Boston
Publisher:
Crosby, Nichols and Company
Manufacturer:
University Press
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
249 p., <6> leaves of plates : col. ill. ; 17 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Christmas -- Legends -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1860 ( lcsh )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1860 ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1860
Genre:
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) ( rbbin )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
United States -- Massachusetts -- Cambridge
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
"Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co."--T.p. verso.
Funding:
Brittle Books Program
Statement of Responsibility:
tales translated from the German of Rosalie Koch by Trauermantel.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026836915 ( ALEPH )
21429513 ( OCLC )
ALH3024 ( NOTIS )

Related Items

Related Item:
PALMM Version

Downloads

This item has the following downloads:


Full Text
aa al Aad ee ee ee ee ie eee ee ee
MME MAE i el ee ee a ae ee ee ee

a NN PAT FPG i
Sd pee ge Sa we EI Bs



Hie Pen eS pe Pt bi . wed 7 eae
5 a oe Na et Nee eet Po phd a) oP et Ps





+



Naat halt el ad rt an et om
ae
vk yet

of eho tn Pe Se Pe ADT re

ee EEN 4 pe Lire Ue SM hi bd: . — Ses
Me a0 Zs, 2 wy y on . Sa gas ae 2 INI AD :
FON) Pe ae
Pca a pe pata aaP ee
CT SIRE an penn pear eS
canal perros J Paha aed = kad 5





-
re

eat rer eal ot ted te ed he oe at

=
Se
SAP &
4 3
. :
aa
& **
ce 4.
Pa % ia -
" ee)
OO GLP A ASE OO Se?
ne? Pal RNS NI RES . ,
- * a7
eee
‘Ce be 16
et tt
ey
ey
Pai
oy oth
So
+t" -
Ve
:
3 {.
& ©
a +
3 eS
‘ .
&

a ae Se tn ee ee en ea Sata a eT
ra ePID dD od ID GI RS GIST TIBT TE
NE eee a ee hn ten Bee Deine



rer ey err

wrirr ever &

a cin
a Pl




-
cs

a
By
os

eee Dein et Seal |
r

‘Te an 2a he a i Ae an ae ee Le

a |

Ben am , Ck he Ate eet ee

DA At Te dE has Bs 4

PEI A ST nD neal edd ea ee
ee ; etna ua nn ae



meee seas 2) Us

RS a aad
Se ANI ar oS wa

,? Soe pant aie and x Pinta
eS wl ag ig «Gp te = ag ey =e ee >
Se ET

os
2,

Rive perry +r ae

wy as ites te sh bh ake ee he ee

,

Retr ha a Ca










a
.
+ P
“ Fs -
Ste Bee
Se b
ke ;
Ye SS if
We} 7 o
eyes F
re
i) Te.
oe es F
te Pe
fe
oad pa
Att
ae ne
" .* ,
Ab SA ,
ae 3
Wk ee.
See oy
the
3% :
So 5 54
gee.
DSS J i
Aire Ree cf
1 pa
ae Bes Tea
ae
tee
(4 ee
Pye
v o it Lie ee %
- gga oe a —S
Seemcad : Ree ae eek daienas ane Caen eee ann oe boa bh nia tenn
- Nd NN OE cae aca alte, Skin tietin Miia atin, ht ian Rin Ne dept tae ee”
ar ak

el” Da cheek ees ee ia ite ee ae aa a ee ad eae ee et










~ Sata, ak al natn aie Sais ie



i — ae ee SO A aD I I im Oe ee ee

. WRAP <7 rns PE eS s- we fae oS
SE Ee ae pT Pl OS al NOE TE SOT PD Paden =. os
1 SR tig sr Na TO NN OO I III el lA LD ODD Ss dan, ee Pi es





a f é





Chhwavit wz Mf
aw Chit hia LELn

/ Us he
Ci he. ELLs :
MM bias hv I00b Co,

a dd a 7
{



* OMe

AE tev cnae: -
ne



AUGUSTA.



HOLLY AND MISTLETOE.

TALES

7
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF

ROSALIE KOCH.

BY



Nd eh cp tod

Cranermattel.

BOSTON:
CROSBY, NICHOLS, AND COMPANY, '

117 Wasaineton Street.
1860.



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by
CROSBY, NICHOLS, & Co.,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE =
ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED BY WELCH, BIGELOW, & CO.



AUGUSTA. A

CHRISTMAS EVE.

THE YOUNG GUEST.

GREENGREEN.
ODA’S GIFT.

CASTLE HILL.

CONTENTS.

TALE. . .

SCENES.

A LEGEND.
A LEGEND.

A LEGEND.

A TALE.

.



DEDICATION.

DEAR JOSEPHINE : —

Amone our forefathers on both sides of
the ocean, Holly and Mistletoe have long
been emblematic of the freshness and warmth
to be kept living in the heart by Christian
love, when all nature without lies cold and
dead. Whether, then, in Mngland or Amer-
ica, will you not keep a corner of your
Christmas table for this little wreath of ever-
green, as well as a warm place in your

heart for your friend and cousin ?

THE TRANSLATOR.



AUGUSTA.

A TALE.






AUGUSTA.

“A etter! A real letter for me, and
through the post-office! Only look, dear
mother, and see what is written on the back:
‘To Augusta Fabian, Brookside.” It must
certainly be from grandmother!”

Thus cried a little girl, as, almost breathless
with running, she came bounding into her
mother’s room.

“ And there is a package with it ;— the man
had some trouble in getting it out of his leather
bag. What in the world can grandmother be
writing to me about?”

Augusta’s hands fairly trembled with delight
as she strove to remove the envelope without
breaking the pretty red seal which held it fast,
for this first letter was to be added to her little



4 AUGUSTA.

store of treasures, and at the first convenient
opportunity be displayed to her young com-
panions. Such a first letter is a real El Do-
rado to the fancy of a child, and even in after
years we can never look upon the worn and
faded pages without a faint thrill of the same
vague sensation of delight which accompanied
their first reception.

Augusta seemed never weary of reading her
letter, first to herself, then_to her mother, hey
father, and her doll; even the servants had to
pause in their work to listen to this wonderful
epistle. The pretty dress and the bright gold-
piece contained in the accompanying package
were quite thrown into the shade when com-
pared with the important document addressed
to Miss Augusta herself.

What then were the contents of the good
grandmother’s letter? Nothing excépt that
she intended in a few days to visit her son who
lived on the bank of the Rhine, whence she
would proceed to the baths at Ems, and in the
latter part of the summer would come to
Brookside, where she would remain until after
Christmas. But as her dear little grandchild’s



AUGUSTA. 5

birthday was near at hand, she would not delay
the pleasure she had in store for her, but send
her at once the present she intended to bestow,
with the express provision that Augusta was
to spend the gold-piece entirely according to
her own fancy and inclination.

The amount of money sent seemed to the
little girl an almost inexhaustible treasure, for
the piece was worth between eleven and twelve
dollars. After pondering awhile she said: “I
will buy me lemon puddings every day, for
after father, mother, and grandmother, I think
I like lemon puddings better than anything
else in the whole world. May I, mamma?”

“They would soon cease to give you pleas-
ure, my little daughter, or they might disagree
with you and make you sick,” replied Mrs.
Fabian, smiling; “ but you may make the trial
if you like.”

Augusta said nothing, but shook her head.
After a short pause, she asked, hesitatingly:
“ But fresh milk-rolls ?””

“To have them fresh, you would be obliged
to send to town, more than three miles, every
day,’’ was the reply.



6 AUGUSTA.

“O, I could pay the errand-boy out of my
money,” suggested Augusta.

“ Yes, for a long time,” returned the mother ;
“but then you would have become so accus-
tomed to them that you would not like the nice
white bread we bake in the house; you must
think of that, you little gourmand.”

The child hung her head, and, sighing deeply,
said: “It is not so pleasant as I thought it
would be to have a great deal of money, for
one is so troubled to know how to spend it.
There is always something to be considered.
I think I will put the pretty gold-picce into the
little money-safe Uncle Gustavus gave me.”

“Tf you intend to keep it for some certain
purpose, such as to buy new books for the
school children, or to send poor sick Jacob, the
sexton’s son, who cuts out such pretty figures
for you, on a little journey for his health, I
have nothing to say; but I should be very sorry
to see you keeping your gold-picce only to
look at, or still worse, to employ as the begin-
ning of a treasure that was to be always in
creased by continual saving, and enjoyed
merely for its own sake. A child should never
be miserly.”



wre

AUGUSTA. 7

“O mother, you do not think I could ever
grow like old Dame Frauzen, down in the vil-
lage, who gets up in the middle of the night
to count over her money, and wears her dead
husband’s old jackets, and all summer long
lives upon root soup and cresses because they
cost her nothing ?”’

“T have no fear,” replied Mrs. Fabian, “ that
my little daughter will ever stint herself in
eating and drinking for the purpose of saving
money; she is altogether too fond of good
things for that. But can you really think of
no better use for your unexpected riches than
to put them in a money-safe? Think the mat-
ter carefully over for a few minutes.”

“How long will it be before my birthday
comes?” asked Augusta, after a little consid-
eration.

“To-day is the thirtieth of March: it will be
four whole weeks.”

“TT have it! I have it!’’ cried the child,
jumping up and clapping her hands. “TI will
have tableaux vivans ; you remember, mother,
what pretty ones we saw at the Collector’s in
the city; there were two little girls in pink



8 AUGUSTA.

dresses, with powdered hair, and wreaths of
roses on their heads. Ah, that was beautiful!
And how everything shone with satin and
spangles! Yes, dear mother, I would like to
have just such tableaux ; in my fairy-book
there are some beautiful pictures all made up
of groups of children. I will have a fine gilt
frame, and a flowered carpet to stand on. Our
doctor’s Gertrude, Emily the pastor’s daughter,
and the schoolmaster’s niece Anna, must all
help me. O, we shall have a charming time!”

“ But I do not think our good pastor will
give his money to be spent in such useless
things as spangles, powder, and paint,” replied
Mrs. Fabian. “I think he would rather em-
ploy it in making good soup for the sick, or in
buying a warm cloak for some poor woman.
If Emily is to represent such a little dressed-
up doll, even supposing her parents give their
permission, you will have to provide her dress.
I think Anna will be in the same case, and I
doubt much whether your money will be
enough for all.”

“T think it will, mother; it is such a very
great deal. If you will take me to town to-



AUGUSTA. 9

morrow, we can buy everything that will be
needed, — gauze, and satin, and spangles, and
flowers, and —”’

“ But you know, my dear,’ here interrupted
the mother, “that our horses are busy carry-
ing stone for the new asylum for the sick and
poor that your father is erecting. Would you
like the building to be delayed, even for a single
day, only for the sake of a little amusement?
Papa wishes the corner-stone to be laid on
your birthday, and I thought the idea gave you
great pleasure.”

“Yes, yes,” said Augusta, somewhat abashed,
“T will wait until some day when the horses
are obliged to go to town, and then we can go
too and make our purchases.”

“Then your father and I are to be enter-
tained on your birthday by sccing three or
four fancifully dressed little children sitting in
a frame and neither moving nor playing about.
Now do you think,” continued Mrs. Fabian,
with a mischievous smile, “that it will be
worth your while to give yourself so much
trouble and spend so much money only for us
who find no especial enjoyment in that sort of
childish exhibition ?”



10 AUGUSTA.

“QO mamma, you and papa are not to be
the only spectators, but the doctor, and the
pastor, and many other guests must be invited ;
and then we will want music, that we may have
a dance afterwards.”

“ What!” cried the mother in amazement,
“are you going to invite grown-up people to
your entertainment ? . Papa has said he did
not wish us to have any company this spring
and summer, because he wants to employ all
the money he can spare on the new building,
and do you think that grown-up persons will
accept an invitation sent only in the name of
our little daughter ?”

Augusta looked down in embarrassment,
and finally asked: “But I can invite some
children, can I not? You have always allowed
me to do that, mother. You can have a cake
baked for me, and I will give it all to my
guests ; then a little tea will certainly not cost
too much; there are plenty of good things
in the storeroom, and we are not so poor,
mamma —”’

She suddenly ceased, and her eyes fell before
her mother’s mild but serious gaze.



AUGUSTA. ll

“ Our kind Heavenly Father,” said the latter,
gently, “has certainly given us a sufficiency of
this world’s goods, but they are only lent us
that we may aid those who are suffering from
want of them. We did not receive them for
our own comfort alone, still less to supply us
with luxurics, and we must one day render
a strict account of their use. This you do
not yet comprehend, my child, although your
parents and your teachers have taught you
enough of your kind Heavenly Father, and of
the gratitude duc to him, to know that it is a
greater joy to aid the poor and needy than to
buy daintics or wear fine clothes. However,
little as I care for such spectacles, I will not
for this time prevent your enjoying yourself
according to your own fancy, but I make it a
condition that you must not allow your pro-
jected entertainment to interfere with any of
your duties; that is, you must not neglect your
lessons at school, or be inattentive to our good
pastor during the hour he devotes to your in-
struction.”

Augusta promised fairly ; but it was fortu-
nate that the lessons for the day were already



12 AUGUSTA.

over when the letter arrived, for her imagina-
tion was now filled with the beautiful pictures
she intended to have represented, and the
fairy-book was again and again consulted to
determine the forms and colors of the various
costumes. She purposed herself first appear-.
ing as a fairy, then as little Red Riding-Hood,
and finally as Blanchadine in the story of the
seven dwarfs, at the moment when the wicked
queen, disguised as an apple-woman, gives her
the poisoned fruit. The costume of the fairy
gave her much trouble: it ought to be very
splendid, of pink satin and silver gauze; but
then with so much money she thought she
could buy all that could possibly be required.
Having obtained her mother’s permission, she
went, towards evening, to see the village seam-
stress, who must of course be taken into con-
fidence. The day was cold, and showers of
sleet alternated with short intervals of sun-
shine. Kven the snow-drops, growing profuse-
ly in the park through which Augusta’s way
led, hung their pretty heads as if bewailing
the absence of the warmth which the back-
ward spring still denied them. The little girl



AUGUSTA, 13

wore a thick cloak, and covered her hands with
the same warm muff as at Christmas. As she
passed an open space across which the wind
blew with especial keenness, she could not help
pitying the carpenters, who, axe in hand, were
busily engaged in hewing out the timbers for
the new asylum. the little house where dwelt the scamstress and
her old invalid mother. As Augusta opened
the door, she experienced a most agrecable
sensation of warmth and comfort; the old
woman stood by the stove cooking broth in
several large pots, while the daughter, Louisa,
sat sewing at the window in the shadow of a
tall rosemary bush. The room was clean and
orderly, blue cups and plates stood ranged
upon the shelves against the wall, where also
hung an old-fashioned clock, ticking loudly
and merrily. In one corner stood a small bed,
covered with a neat brown calico spread. The
carpenters seemed to have heard the hoarse
tones of the clock striking the hour for quit-
ting work, for they put away their tools, and all
came toward the little house. Meantime, the

old woman placed on the table three bowls
2



14 AUGUSTA.

nearly filled with slices of brown bread, over
which she then poured the smoking broth.
While laying the spoons beside each dish, she
gave a friendly greeting to the men, who en-
tered one after the other, returning the kind
salutation, and casting longing looks toward
the table. One of them had already taken up
a spoon to help himself, when the old woman,
stepping to the head of the table, folded her
hands and said: —
“ Whether cating, whether drinking,
On our Lord we should be thinking,

Who each good to man hath given,
Life, health, labor, hope in Heaven.”

The poor, hungry workmen paused a mo-
ment in inward thanksgiving, and then began
their simple meal, which they so thoroughly
enjoyed that it was a pleasure to see them eat.

‘“* Are all these people your relations,” asked
Augusta, who had been looking on in wonder,
“or do you keep a kind of inn for them?”

‘¢-Yes and no,” replied the seamstress, smil-
ing; “the poor are all brothers and sisters,
and it is God’s will that all human beings,
rich and poor, lowly and lofty, should feel



AUGUSTA. 15

thus toward one another, but otherwise we
scarcely know these men, even by name. You
see, my dear young lady, that, whether one
possesses ever so much or ever so little, one
ought to employ whatever one can spare in the
service of one’s fellow-creatures. My mother
has often grieved, that, since father’s death, she
has had so little to give away; but when your
noble father sent for the men to hew out the
timber for the asylum, and they began their
work here under our very windows, it dis-
tressed her to the heart to see that the poor
fellows had to labor all day in the cold, with-
out anything warm to cat, or any refreshing
drink, except that in their brandy-flasks. She
said: ‘I can no longer labor, and my hands are
very feeble, but I am still strong enough to
cook a pot of warm broth for those poor men ;
they may then, perhaps, leave off their brandy,
which may, in the end, cost them their health
and the happiness of their whole lives.’ Moth-
er’s own expericnce on this point has been a
very sad one. Well, she spoke with the men,
and they were, of course, very much pleased
with the offer; they bring us the refuse wood,



16 AUGUSTA.

which, of right, belongs to them, and with that
mother cooks them, twice a day, a good warm
broth, or sometimes at noon a smoking dish of
potatoes. It is a real pleasure to see how
grateful they feel, and then they hold mother
in such high honor that they will even allow
her to speak a word of warning when she sees
that any of them still go to the tavern, or oth-
erwise waste their wages on foolish things.”

“ But that will not make her any richer,’
said Augusta.

“She has no thought of gain,” replied the
seamstress. ‘ Mother considers such deeds as
her widow’s mite, offered through love to God,
and remembers that he often sends the great-
est blessings upon the most trifling actions.
From time to time, one or another of the
wives of the men living at a distance has come
with tears in her eyes, and thanked mother
that her husband had reformed his life and
given up drinking. Another has rejoiced that
her husband, who had never before thought of
prayer, now went with her every Sunday to
church, and did his best to bring up the chil-
dren in the fear and love of God; and for all

oP)



AUGUSTA. 17

this, she said she had only my mother to
thank. But here I am, my dear young lady,
talking so much to you about this matter,
which J am sure mother would rather not
have mentioned.”

Louisa here broke off. The carpenters were
gayly entertaining each other at their table,
gladly resting after the toil and exposure of
the day in so warm and comfortable a room.
The wind without had lulled, and Augusta
took advantage of the bright, clear twilight
to return to the manor. While listening to
Louisa, she had entirely forgotten the object
of her visit.

*¢T will go back to-morrow,” said she to her-
self, adding in thought, “but not at supper-
time, for then Louisa can think of nothing but
her mother and her mother’s guests, and when
we talk together we must be quite undis-
turbed.”

In the evening she told her mother all she
had seen and heard at Dame Muntzer’s, and
that there were so many strange men in the
room she could not have her talk with the
seamstress. Mrs. Fabian seemed quite de-

2



18 AUGUSTA.

lighted with her little daughter’s account, and
said she must know the widow better, for she
felt much pleased with this proof of her disin-
terestedness and humanity; indeed, it made
her feel quite ashamed, for, as the wife of the
builder of the asylum, she should herself have
considered the welfare of the poor carpenters
so far away from their homes; but that this
was only another proof of how much real good
could be done with very little money, and that
genuine charity could always find a way to be
useful to others.

That night Augusta lay long awake before
the sand-man came stealing by on his noiseless
soles, dropping the fine grains into her pretty
blue eyes. She had so very much to think
about ;—the gilt frame for her tableaux, the
suitable costume for the fairy, the many lamps
and candles that would be needed, the music
for the dance, and also whether she could not
persuade the forester’s apprentice to represent
the wolf in little Red Riding-Hood ; he would
certainly know all about wild beasts, and the
sleigh-robes or her father’s fur coat would do
the rest.



AUGUSTA. 19

It was quite late before she fell asleep, and
then she dreamed of ugly dwarfs and poisoned
apples; indeed, she had just fallen into the
clutches of a horrid monster with sharp teeth
that was going to eat her up in spite of her sil-
ver gauze dress, when she was awakened by
her mother’s voice, saying: ‘“‘ Come, my little
girl, jump up; it is late, and you will have to
make haste to be ready in time for school!”

“For school! Ome!”

Augusta suddenly remembered that she had
forgotten to learn her morning task, some vig-
orous lines in praise of charity : —

“Tf one all knowledge and all wisdom had, —
Could speak with tongues of angels and of men, —
Yet were devoid of faithful, generous love,

Such gifts were useless in the sight of God.
As sounding brass or tinkling cymbal, vain
The man, the Christian, bearing not the fruit
Of love, —a hollow rind without a core.
E’en could he prophesy, and had all faith, —
Could mountains move, could heal the deaf, the blind,
Should give his all to feed the needy poor,
And yield his body living to the flames, —
Yet had not charity within his soul,

Still useless would he be in sight of God.
True love is patient, gentle, tender, mild,



20 AUGUSTA. é

And ever ready swiftly to bring aid ;

Is never jealous, seeketh not her own ;

Is never proud, hates none, but counsels all ;
Is never angry, and, whene’er she can,

Turns evil into good, protecting all.

Sweet Charity is grieved when wrong is done,
Rejoicing when the truth and right prevail.
She covereth with a veil her neighbor’s faults,
Enduring all things, loving peace and rest ;
Envying none, believing still the best,

She hopeth all for sinners and ill-doers.

With brightest innocence herself enrobed,
She waits with patience, breathing no complaint.
When science faileth, human lore is naught,
Love groweth ever, filling earth and heaven.
When Faith and Hope have passed away with time,
Love bideth throughout all eternity.

Lord Jesus, thou the Love Incarnate, grant
That I may love my neighbor as myself,

And ever ready stand to help and serve
Whene’er a fellow-mortal needs my aid.”

Augusta confessed with shame, that think-
ing over her birthday festival had caused her
for the first time in her life to forget her les-
son, and promised that this should never hap-
pen again. Mrs. Fabian uttered not a word
in reproof, but merely said: “If you have not
yet learned the words of those beautiful lines,
at least embrace their meaning with your



AUGUSTA. 21

whole heart; love your fellow-creatures, the
poor, the sorrowing, the wretched and forsa-
ken most of all, and forget your own self in
serving and consoling all who need aid or con-
solation. The good scamstress’s poor old
mother affords an example of charity and
humanity well-pleasing to God, and which
must surely excite the admiration and emula-
tion of my good little daughter. I remember
a beautiful hymn, which says :—

“Truly loving, all ye Christians,

Kindly with your brethren live,

Each one ready for the other
Even life itself to give.

Such the love our Lord has borne us,
Suffering, dying, for our sake,

Each disciple grieves his Master
Will not his example take.”

Augusta felt her mother’s seriousness very
deeply, and she was also sorry to disappoint
her teacher by not having learned her lesson.

“ Ah!” she sighed, “if the letter and the
money had only not come, my heart would be
much lighter than it is now.”

Nevertheless, she could scarcely wait until



22 AUGUSTA.

afternoon again to visit the seamstress, and
soon after dinner ran through the garden, fairy-
book in hand, to show Louisa the pictures she
wished to have represented. The weather was
much milder than on the previous day, and
here and there, under the old trees, appeared
little sprouts of green, seemingly reckless of
the wintry winds that might still be expected.
The sun shone brightly down upon the place
where the carpenters were at work, while the
sounds of the axe and saw echoed loudly
through the forest. As Augusta was passing
the men, who all gave her a polite greeting,
she observed a boy of about ten years old,
sitting on a heap of chips, and busily engaged
in making little cages of pieces of wood and
fine white willow rods. He was gayly whistling
over his work, but did not once look up as
Augusta’s red skirt brushed past him; his
shoes were torn, and the short jacket which he
wore was quite rusty and threadbare, but very
clean. Augusta was at once struck with his
likeness to one of the pictures in her fairy-
book, — that of little Jack, whom his father
sent into the wood because he had nothing for



AUGUSTA. 23

him to eat, and who there found a whole
house made of gingerbread. In a moment she
thought: “If we wanted to represent Jack
and Peggy, I could put the boy in the picture
just as he is; he looks very well with his true-
hearted face and curly brown hair, and then
his worn-out clothes seem as if they had only
been pe on in sport. I would like to know
who he is.’

As soon as she reached the seamstress’s
dwelling, she inquired concerning the little
boy, whom she was sure she had not seen the
day before.

“¢ He comes from Boberau once a week, Sat-
urday being the only day he has no school,”
said Louisa, in answer to the little girl’s ques-
tion. “His mother died a long time ago, and
the poor lad comes here to help his father carry
home his tools, and do anything else he can
to aid him.”

“That is all very good,” said oe “but
I do not like the kind of work he is doing now.
Why does he make cages to. catch the pretty
birds in? Can’t he hear them sing well enough
in the woods and fields ?”



24 AUGUSTA.

The seamstress opened the window and called
out: ‘ Johnny, bring me a handful of chips; I
want to heat an iron.”

The boy sprang up and brought her a good
armful, which he threw into the stove, laughing
as he said: “‘ There, I wish you would give me
something harder to do.”

“ Plenty of time yet for that,” said Louisa,
holding the boy (who was about running off
again to his work) fast by the arm. ‘ Stay here
a moment, you little whirlwind, and tell this
young lady why you make so many bird-cages.”

Johnny opened his eyes, now for the first
time aware of the presence of a strange child
in the room.

“Indeed,” said he finally, with a comical
sigh, ‘if I only knew how to make something
better, I would be the last to aid in catching
the gay little birds. I love them too dearly
for that; but then I love our schoolmaster
much more.”

“ But,” cried Augusta, “ does not your
schoolmaster forbid you to catch the poor lit-
tle creatures ?”

“He has not exactly forbidden it,” replied



AUGUSTA. 25

Johnny; “ but whether he would praise it or
not, I cannot conscientiously say. I do not
catch them myself, and in no case are we per-
mitted to touch bird’s-nests; but since I have

. grown a little more skilful in the manufacture

of my wares, I make quite a deal of money in
the city.”’

“ But what has the schoolmaster to do with
all that ?”’ asked the seamstress.

The boy blushed to the very roots of his
hair; he looked first upon the floor, then
toward the ceiling, and finally cast a longing
glance out of the little window toward the open
space, evidently showing that he would rather
be outside, seated upon his heap of chips, than
stay within talking and answering questions.
Seeing no escape, he replied: “If any other
person had asked me about my work, he would
have had to wait long enough for an answer;
but, as father says, you and your mother have
been so kind to us that you have a right to ask
from us whatever you will. Besides, you will
not tell it again, I am sure. Well, then, the
money for my cages— But indeed I would

rather not tell.”
3



26 AUGUSTA.

“Ah!” said Augusta, laughing, “I bet you
want it to buy gingerbread and fruit with.”

Johnny shook his head, while Louisa came
to his aid. “ You surely intend to give your
master, Mr. Feldmann, a pleasant surprise. I[-
know how dearly you love him, and he deserves
all you can do for him.” :

“ Yes indeed, that is true!’ cried the boy,
enthusiastically. “O, I love him so dearly,
and you cannot wonder that I should like to
give him a watch. I know he has long wished
for one. His sister’s son, Fred Volke, told me
so, and also that he had twice laid up the
money to buy it with; but the first time, the
great fire broke out at Pohlmuhl, and Mr.
Feldmann gave all his savings to the poor
houseless creatures, and the second time, An-
tony the watchman, who sings so beautifully
in the choir on Sundays, was taken ill, and
our good master sent to the city for a physi-
cian, and paid for all the expensive medicines
he was obliged to have. Now I can rest neither
day nor night until I can buy Mr. Feldmann a
timepiece, — not one like that hanging against
the wall, and not one of glass and sand, such



AUGUSTA. 27

as we use at school, but a real silver watch.
The Collector’s serving-men all have watches,
but I am afraid my dear master will have to
do without one all his life, unless I can earn
money enough to buy one for him.”

Augusta was a little girl, and little girls are
generally very curious, so she asked: “ Have
you saved much already?
a great deal,—a great many dollars.”

Johnny looked astounded. ‘“ A great many
dollars !”’ said he, slowly ; “‘ well, when I have
saved the first one, the rest will surely come
some time. ‘ Where doves are, doves come,’
says the proverb. Toward the first one I
have — let me see.”

The little lad unbuttoned his jacket; he
wore no vest, but round his neck was a piece
of red tape, to which was attached a leather
purse. Johnny counted out four shilling-pieces
and a few pennies, looking at them all the
while as proudly as if they were so many gold
eagles.

‘Before Christmas comes, I must surely
have one dollar complete,” said he, “and next
year I will be so much older and more skilful

a



28 AUGUSTA.

that I can make it grow much faster. O thou,
my kind Heavenly Father, do thou grant this
pleasure to me, and to my good master!”

Tears rushed to his eyes, and his voice trem-
bled as he uttered these last words. Passing
the back of his hand across his face, he thrust
the purse again under his jacket, and ran out
as if the ground were burning under his feet.

“Ts not Johnny a dear, good lad?” asked
the seamstress of Augusta, who had gone to
the window to look after him. ‘He has the
most grateful heart in the world.”

“But why is he so especially fond of his
master? His father is much poorer than Mr.
Feldmann; why does he not give him the
money for the cages?” asked Augusta.

“ Ah, that is a long story,” replied Louisa.
“Let us now sce about your costumes. Have
you brought the pictures ?”’

“But tell me all about it,’ begged the
child; “it will be four long weeks before my
birthday comes. I would like to know some-
thing more about the good boy who looks so
like Jack in my fairy-book, and whose name
is also John. I have just a half-hour to spare,



AUGUSTA. 29

and then I must go, and study my lessons for
Monday.”

“You see,” began the scamstress, ‘“ the
boy’s mother died a-long time ago, and the
father going off every day to his work, often in
a distant village, the child was left to the care
of an old deaf woman that lived in the same
house with the carpenter. She gave herself
but little trouble about the boy, merely dress-
ing him in the morning and giving him a bit
of bread or a couple of dry potatoes in sour
milk. Johnny sat the whole day long on a
sand-heap outside the door, while the old wo-
man span within; she could not hear the cry-
ing of the child when the poor little fellow
would be alarmed, sometimes by a big dog
passing on the wayside, or by a goose wad-
dling along with her unfledged young behind
her, and stretching out her neck at him with
an angry hiss. She did not see when a sud-
den rain fell and drenched the little boy to the
skin; every noon when she had given the
child his dinner, good or bad, as the case might
be, she sat him down again in the sand, say-

ing: ‘Stay here, Johnny, and wait till your
3%



30 AUGUSTA.

father comes.’ The poor little fellow had
often to wait long enough, and frequently be-
fore the father returned, late in the evening
from his work, the little eyes were closed in
sleep. The carpenter would then lift his child
from the ground and place him in his own bed,
but early the next morning would again be
forced to leave him before he awoke. Only on
Sundays could the little one sit on his father’s
knee, while the latter caressed him, combed
his hair, and told him all he knew himself
about God and Heaven (where his mother had
gone), about the animals that lived in the
woods and fields, and the great, great world
that existed beyond the little village where
they lived, containing many, many men, and
seas, and mountains. Johnny was inexpressi-
bly delighted with all such narrations; he
never asked for the white roll that his father
usually brought him, but always wanted to be
told some more. Sunday was a real holiday
for the little boy, and every evening he would
ask the old deaf woman: ‘ Will to-morrow be
Sunday?’ But she heard nothing, only gazed
fixedly at the spindle that was merrily dancing
through her fingers, and spoke not a word.

ca



AUGUSTA. 31

* As there was no one to talk to the child,
except the father, on Sundays, he was very
silent, and could say but few words. ‘Stupid
Johnny’ was the nickname bestowed upon
him by the village children, as they passed
the cottage on their way to school, and always
saw him sitting quietly, making sand-houses
and digging miniature ditches. He thus at-
tained the age of five. It is true he no longer
sat all day upon the sand before the cottage-
door, but played by the brook and beat the
hoop like other boys, still, however, continuing
shy and silent, and always when the older chil-
dren were passing to and from school, hiding
himself in the alder-grove behind the house.

“One day there came to Boberau a new
teacher, a young man whose heart was filled
with love for his noble calling, for the children
he was to instruct, and for all mankind. He
was poor, for in addition to his aged parents
who always lived with him, he supported an
invalid, widowed sister and her only son. No
one could be long in discovering that Mr. Feld-
mann was a real friend to children, for he
never failed to procure them a pleasure when



82 AUGUSTA.

it was in his power, and even their lessons
were made a delight to them. When new
scholars entered the school, they found the
room all hung with garlands, and master and
pupils in their Sunday clothes. At such times
Mr. Feldmann made them the most beautiful
and improving narrations, and all regarded
the day as a high festival. During the sum-
mer he employed the free afternoons in taking
long walks with the children, pointing out to
them the brook running near the village, ex-
plaining the difference between the various
kinds of watercourses, teaching them to know
the right bank from the left, telling them the
names of the flowers, of the birds and insects
that fluttered by the wayside, and repeating to
them short hymns of thanksgiving to God for
all the love and mercy shown in the exceeding
beauty of his creation. One day in particular
he prepared a new and especial pleasure for
them. He led them to a hill where all sorts
of arrangements had been made for their en-
tertainment. A painted board was fastened to
a tree-trunk, serving as a target, at which the
boys were to fire with their bow-guns, while a



AUGUSTA. 83

pile of hoops lay ready for the girls to trundle.
Mr. Feldmann had also brought with him a
vase, from which the children, seated according
to their places in school, each drew a number.
The prizes were but of small value, consisting
of pencils, pens, colored paper, a few small
books, penknives, etc., but the children were
highly delighted with their gifts, and said that
Christmas eve had come at midsummer.

“ Johnny stood by the cottage-door as the
long train of children passed on. What would
he not have given to have been among them!
He followed them at a distance through the
village, and, when they reached the hill, hid
himself behind a large rock. He could have
sat for days upon his hard seat, so deeply was
he interested in all he saw and heard: directly
beiow him was the joyous assemblage, and as
the master drew forth one pretty book after
another to give to the fortunate winners, he
involuntarily stretched out his little hand; but
no one saw the timid child, who was only
thinking whether those books told about the
same wonderful things that his father talked
of on Sundays. He did not envy the children



34 AUGUSTA.

the great basket of ripe cherries that was then
brought forward and distributed among them ;
all he desired was only once to hold such a lit-
tle book in his hand and examine it on every
side.

“ The evening wind began to blow coolly over
the tops of the hills, and the children, however
unwillingly, were obliged to commence their
homeward march. Johnny slipped unobserved
behind them ; he had lost his supper and left
his jacket at the cottage, but he felt neither
hunger nor cold. The boys had decorated
their bow-guns with oak-leaves, and the girls’
heads were crowned with wild-flowers, making
quite a triumphant appearance as they went
singing home. Suddenly Johnny saw lying
in the dust before him one of the pretty little
books. The light was fast fading away, but he
could still distinguish the gay, colors in the
binding. With a cry of joy he picked it up,
and carefully examined it ; but his next thought
was how sorry the child would be that had lost
it, and he ran as fast as he could after the
gay procession, holding the rent treasure
high over his head.



AUGUSTA. 35.

“<¢See! see! there comes Stupid Johnny! ’
cried one of the boys, laughing ; but the others
reproved him for calling such names, already
showing the good influence the master had
exercised among them. But even had they
all joined the cry, Johnny would not have
heeded them, for although he still feared the
big boys, he felt great confidence in the teacher,
and going up to him, he said, candidly: ‘I
have found this pretty book, and have brought
it to you.’

“¢ Would you not rather have kept it, little
one?’ asked Mr. Feldmann, gently stroking
the boy’s head.

“¢Q yes!’ replied the boy, ‘but it is not
mine.’

“¢ Well, then, I will give you just such a
one,’ said the master, smiling; ‘but can you
read it?’

“¢No, but I will learn right away,’ was the
innocent reply.

“ Mr. Feldmann lifted the little boy in his
arms and said: ‘That cannot be done in quite
such a hurry ; but come into the house with me,
and we will talk a little together.’



36 AUGUSTA.

“ Johnny followed the master into his room,
where a bright lamp was burning on the table,
which was covered with a white cloth, and
spread out with milk, bread, and cheese.

“The widow, followed by her son, entered the
room, and, giving her brother her hand, said :
‘Father and mother bade me tell you good
night for them; they were tired and have gone
to rest.’ She then took his hat and cane, and
placed an additional plate on the table for the
little guest that Mr. Feldmann had brought
with him.

“ Johnny stood as ina dream; the neat room
with its sanded floor, the black writing-table
with its piles of books, and the pretty walls,
against which hung a beautiful picture, — Christ
blessing little children, —were all like fairy-land
to the poor child, who had never seen the in-
side of any dwelling but his father’s, with its
unplastered walls, wooden benches, and rude
table. He was especially enchanted with the
mild light glimmering through the small
ground-glass shade. Mrs. Volke cut him a
large slice of bread, gave him a piece of cheese,
and poured him out a cupful of milk, mean-



AUGUSTA. 37

time talking with him so kindly that he forgot
both eating and drinking.

“ But he felt chiefly attracted toward the mas-
ter, who asked him about his father and mother
(as a stranger in the village he was, of course,
not aware of the child’s being an orphan,) and
then showed him some pretty colored prints
illustrative of Biblical history, —Adam and Eve
in Paradise, Noah’s Ark with the rainbow
above it, and David and Jonathan, that beau-
tiful type of manly friendship. The child lis-
tened breathlessly to the master, and while the
mild and gentle accents flowed from the lips of
that friend to children, Johnny’s heart opened
as a flower in the warm sunlight. He thought
that his mother in heaven must always feel just
as he then did, and he could hardly bear to
think of going back to the old deaf woman who
never had a kind word forhim. Mr. Feldmann
himself took the child home, and there asked
many questions about the father, who was now
absent on a distant piece of work, and would
not return until Sunday. ;

* Until that day came, Johnny sat nearly all

the time silently dreaming under the alders
4



38 AUGUSTA.

beside the brook, thinking over and over again
of all the good people had said to him. To-
ward evening he slipped away to the master’s
house, and, rising on tip-toe that he might look
within, he saw Mr. Feldmann sitting with his
sister and his aged parents, singing their even-
ing hymn: —

O Lord, protect me while I rest,

Be my slumbers by thee blest !

My body, soul, and life are thine ;
Graciously thine ear incline:

O list my fervent, humble prayer,
Asking thy protecting care!

Should’st thou another morning grant,
Thou wilt supply each needful want.’

“The child folded his hands and sank upon
his knees under the blooming linden as if he
had been in church. Ah! the happy children,
thought he, the happy children, that can go to
school, and see and hear dear Mr. Feldmann
every day. Johnny felt sure it would be a
long year yet before he would be sent to
school. As he afterwards lay in bed praying
for his father and the old deaf woman, he also
mentioned the name of his new friend, who



AUGUSTA. 39

soon after proved himself a friend indeed.
The next Sunday after church Mr. Feldmann
came to Johnny’s father and proposed that the
lad should stay with him, at least during the
daytime. ‘ Where five sit at table,’ said he,
good-naturedly, ‘there will also be room for
six, and as your boy seems to have so strong a
desire to learn and improve himself, he will
probably in time be a scholar of whom any one
might be proud.’

“The carpenter was of course very well
pleased with this proposition, and joyfully
thanked the kind master. But the boy, find-
ing his secret desires so suddenly and unex-
pectedly fulfilled, could not speak a word; he
was fairly dumb with excess of gratitude and
delight. From that day Johnny was in fact
Mr. Feldmann’s adopted son; the master not
only taught and fed him, but also clothed him
in the best of his own worn-out garments,
which the widowed sister neatly made over for
the child, until that sister’s illness and the old
parents’ increasing feebleness placed the mas-
ter in really distressing circumstances.

“The boy never slept out of Mr. Feldmann’s

e



40 AUGUSTA.

house except when his father had work in the
village, and on Sundays, when he spent the
whole day at home. On Saturday afternoons
he generally went to the place where his father
was working, and did all he could to aid him.
Mr. Feldmann became to him the visible repre-
sentative of God’s providence on earth, and as
he always knew how to satisfy the little lad’s
craving for knowledge, or turn it into some
new direction, Johnny now loves him with
such depth and strength that he would lay
down his life for his benefactor, who is to him
not only a teacher of the word of God, but a
self-sacrificing, cheerful doer of the same.

“TI only wish,” said the seamstress, in con-
clusion, “ that the good lad could really, some
day, be in a position to show Mr. Feldmann his
gratitude. As for the watch, that is only a
foolish, childish fancy of Johnny’s, which he
will surely never be able to carry into execu-
tion.”

“ But why not,” interrupted Augusta; “is
that indeed so impossible? Suppose I were to
give your little favorite the money, so that he
could buy the watch?”



AUGUSTA. 41

“O, my dear young lady,’’ cried Louisa, in
joyful surprise, “if you only would do so!
But I do not really know whether that would
not spoil the best part of Johnny’s pleasure, for
then it would not be he who had gratified his
master’s wish, but you.”

“T have thought of a way,’’ said Augusta,
who seemed quite enchanted with this new
project; “could I speak with the boy again?”

Louisa opened the window and called. John-
ny was not this time as prompt as he had been
before; he loitered on the way, and looked
rather distrustful as he finally entered the
room.

* Listen to me,” began Augusta; ‘ are there
any boys in your village that catch the birds
in the oak-woods belonging to my father?”

“T think there are,”’ replied Johnny, thought-
fully, “‘for they are the only woods within
many miles. But if it is not allowed, I will
tell our master, and he will only haye to say a
couple of words to the boys, and there will
never be another net or snare set in the for-
est.”

“Tt is not forbidden,” said Augusta, ‘“ but I
' 4% ‘



42 AUGUSTA.

love the birds so dearly that I do not like a
single one to be lured away. You might tell
your comrades, from me, that if they will let
the birds alone, I will invite them all to see
me on my birthday, and will do my best to
entertain them.”

“ Are you really in earnest?” asked John-
ny, laughing. “I can hardly think so! Our
wild school-boys go up to the manor!”

“ At least to the lawn behind the manor,”
said Augusta, who scarcely ventured to invite
a company of peasant-boys into her parents’
apartments without having first obtained their
permission. ‘ You must come too, and as I
shall not know what to do with so many wild
boys, the little girls at Boberau must accom-
pany you; there will be plenty of room for all.
And listen; we must also ask Mr. Feldmann,
for who but he could keep such a number of
children in order?”

“ Hurra! That will be delightful!” cried
Johnny, fairly jumping with joy. ‘ Will the
children from Brookside be also there?”

“Of course! But the condition of the invi-
tation is, that no more birds are to be caught



AUGUSTA. 43

in our woods. And now I must make a bar-
gain with you; you must not make any more
cages, no matter how skilful you become or
how well you are paid.”

“ But—” stammered Johnny, evidently dis-
concerted.

“Yes,” continued Augusta, very seriously,
“T have set my heart upon that. You will
lose the means of making a good profit, but
then, only think, your pretty cages are only
another inducement to people to catch the gay
little larks, finches, and yellowhammers, to
whom God himself gave the green trees and
beautiful groves as dwelling-places. Well, I
will buy from you all the cages that you might
make in, at least, several years from this time,
only with the difference that you must not
make the cages. Here is your pay now.”

Johany gazed half in affright at the broad
gold-piece which the young lady laid in his
sunburnt hand.

“O no,” he said, shaking his head, “ this
would buy our whole house, to say nothing of
a few cages. I know the coin well, and I
know that it is worth more than eleven dol-

lars.”’
aq



A4 AUGUSTA.

“Well, you would surely make that much
in the next three years by your skill and in-
dustry,” replied the little girl. “But if it
pleases you better, let our bargain be for the
next ten years. But now I cannot stay any
longer, I have my lessons to learn, and you
know that one does not like to grieve one’s
kind teacher by negligence.”

Thus saying, Augusta lifted the latch, and
calling out, “We will meet again on the
twenty-fifth of April,’ ran out of the house,
over the cleared space, to the park gate,
whence she again waved a smiling adieu.

_ Johnny threw his gold-piece up into the air,
and skilfully catching it again, cried out, while
the bright tears rolled down his cheeks: “‘ Now
I will buy Mr. Feldmann the finest watch I can
find in the city ; O, how I wish to-morrow were
Saturday again!”

“ But the first thing you want will be a new
jacket to go to the party in,” said the seam-
stress, smiling.

“T, a new jacket? It is scarcely a year
since Mr. Feldmann had this one made for
me out of one of his old coats,’ replied John-



AUGUSTA. 45

ny, almost angrily. ‘Do you think me a
prince ?”’

Louisa gave him a hearty kiss. “Go, then,
and follow the impulse of your own kind
heart,”’ said she, deeply moved, “for we read
in the Scripture: ‘ Withhold not good from
them to whom it is due, when it is in the
power of thine hand to do it.’”

A few days after the interview with Johnny,
Mr. Fabian told his wife that the horses could
be spared during the afternoon, and if she
wished to take a drive with Augusta, she could
do so.

“ Well, my child,” said the mother, “‘ we can
now attend to your little business in the city.
Get ready as fast as you can; I have only a few
words to say to the dairy-maid, and by the
time I have finished, the carriage will be
here.’

Augusta would willingly have asked her
mother to give up the drive to town, but did
not know how to do so without disclosing her
little secret. Since the day of her second visit
to the seamstress, Mrs. Fabian had said not a



46 AUGUSTA.

word more about the tableaux, and hence was
not aware that her daughter had made a more
sensible use of her money. As the carriage
came before Augusta had any opportunity of
telling her mother about Johnny and the gold-
piece, they were driving away among the fresh
green fields of spring-wheat ere the child could
unburden her mind of the little mystery that
weighed upon it.

“Mamma,” said she, finally, blushing and
laying her hand upon Mrs. Fabian’s arm, “had
you not better tell the coachman to turn round
and drive us through the birch wood? I do
not think the road to town is very pretty.”

“ But you have some purchases to make,”
replied the mother, ‘or have you thought of
something else?”

“Yes, dear mother!” cried Augusta, quite
delighted at the opening thus afforded her.
“There will be a great many tableaux to be
seen on my birthday, but only lively and mov-
ing ones, of happy peasant-boys and girls play-
ing on the lawn behind the manor; but
suppose it should snow or rain, where can I
take my guests? All the school children from



AUGUSTA. 47

Boberau and Brookside are to come. O mam-
ma, I am so glad! so glad!”

“Do you mean, then, to use your money in
giving a grand entertainment to the chil-
dren?” asked Mrs. Fabian, who was much
better pleased with this idea than with that of
haying tableaux out of the fairy-book.

This question caused all the sunshine to
vanish from the little girl’s face. She had
thoughtlessly invited so many guests without
remembering that she had given her money to
Johnny. Nothing now remained except to tell
her mother all that had occurred, and beg her
assistance. She found no difficulty in so do-
ing, as Mrs. Fabian could not conceal her
delight at Augusta’s altered resolution. She
tenderly embraced her daughter, and said: “I
am very well content with you, my dear child,
and I hope your little guests will be the same
with me.”

As Mrs. Fabian, finding that there was no
longer any necessity for going to town, ordered
the coachman to turn into the wood, a little
traveller appeared from behind the trees. He
was covered with dust and seemed very tired,



48 AUGUSTA.

but his face was fairly beaming with joy. Au-
gusta cast a hasty glance toward him, and then,
blushing and smiling, whispered to her mother:
“That is Johnny. I bet he has been to town
to buy the watch!”

And so indeed it was. The lad was not run-
ning in his usual fashion, but walked slowly
along, holding his left hand hidden under his
jacket as if carefully guarding a little bird or
some fragile, breakable article. He gave but a
single glance at the passing vehicle, and then
darted away across a ploughed field, singing so
loudly that he did not hear the call of Au-
gusta, who, having first obtained her mother’s
permission, was going to offer him a seat in
the carriage.

“Let him go his own way,” said Mrs. Fa-
bian ; “it ought not to seem as if you troubled
yourself much about him, but the boy will one
day understand that you only gave him the
gold-piece to procure him the pleasure of
showing his gratitude to his master.”

The carriage rolled away under the bare
trees, whose branches began to be tinged with
red and to assume that feathery appearance



AUGUSTA. 49

announcing the speedy arrival of the leaves.
The lark, that little gray bird that rejoices the
heart of the farmer while busy in his fields,
seemed never weary of singing as it rose ever
higher and higher through the clear and balmy
air.

“ Ah! if my birthday would only be as fine
as it is to-day!” cried Augusta, over and over
again, and, as a few days before, her every
spare thought had been devoted to the cos-
tumes for her tableaux, she could now think
of nothing but the entertainment to be given
to the village childen. She felt especially
pleased to think that she should see Mr.
Feldmann, the good master who had so thor-
oughly won the heart of the little boy.

As the longed-for day drew nigh, the mother
and daughter held many consultations togeth-
er, and had many preparations to make. Mrs.
Fabian herself wrote to the master at Boberau,
inviting him, with all his scholars, great and
small, to visit the manor on Augusta’s birth-
day, and heartily beseeching him not to spoil
their pleasure by a denial.

The twenty-fifth finally came. In the morn-
5



50 AUGUSTA.

ing the corner-stone of the new asylum was
laid, with the appropriate ceremonies, accom-
panied by prayer and praise; the village chil-
dren, clad in their holiday suits, adorned the
site of the building with branches of pine, and
then went in procession to meet the children
from Boberau, who, with their master at their
head, did not suffer themselves to be long
waited for.

Long tables were set in the great hall of the
manor-house, at which the children all par-
took of a plain but wholesome meal, and then
began the plays in the open air, where a bright-
er, warmer April sun never shone down on a
happier set of childen.

When, toward the close of the day, Mr.
Feldmann took out a pretty silver watch, and
gently reminded his scholars that it was time
to think of going home, Augusta’s smiling
glance fell upon Johnny, (who, even while
playing, had all day kept quite near his be-
loved master,) and she could not but observe
how proudly the boy looked round upon the
assemblage, as if to say, ‘“‘ Do you all see that
Mr. Feldmann has a watch as well as other
people ?”’



AUGUSTA. 51

Mrs. Fabian had embraced the opportunity
of having a long talk with the master from
Boberau, and the consequence was, that, after
consulting her husband, she wrote to Mr. Feld-
mann, and begged him to give her daughter an
hour’s instruction three times in the week, for
which purpose Mr. Fabian’s horses were sent
tri-weekly to Boberau. Augusta soon loved
the good master almost as well as Johnny did,
and one day when speaking of this to her
mother, the latter said: ‘You see, my child,
what your little self-sacrifice has already done
for you. Every deed of love toward our fel-
low-creatures is a seed sown in the furrow of
time, which, with God’s blessing, may yield a
thousand-fold.”

Since the time when that unexpected letter
from the grandmother had thrown Augusta
into such a state of excitement, more than ten
years had passed away. The little girl had
grown into a charming young maiden, the joy
and delight of her parents. She had been for
the last three years at an excellent institution
for education, and was just now returning from



52 AUGUSTA.

a long pleasure tour taken with her grand-
mother. The road home led through Boberau,
and when the first scattered houses met her
view, she thought at once of Mr. Feldmann,
who had, meantime, received an appointment
as head of a large school elsewhere. She beg-
ged her grandmother to let the coachman
drive past the master’s old dwelling, so that
she might once more see the little garden and
arbor where she had often sat with her beloved
teacher, studying natural history; for, having
once obtained her parents’ permission to go to
Boberau on foot, she had been so delighted
with all she had seen, so attracted by the
peace and contentment reigning amid such
utter simplicity, even poverty, that the visit
was often repeated, and never without profit
to herself.

The garden was unchanged, except that the
splendid yellow rose, now in full bloom, had
grown somewhat aged, the vine had been blown
off one side of the arbor, and the pretty cedar-
tree, of whose branches Augusta had once de-
lighted to make wreaths for the picture, in the
parlor, of our Lord blessing the children, was



AUGUSTA. 53

all withered and dried up. The square before
the church seemed to be the scene of some
unusual commotion; strange workmen were
apparently busied upon the church-tower, and
at a little distance stood the old carpenter,
Johnny’s father, whom the young girl recog-
nized immediately, although his hair had grown
snow-white since she had last seen him. He
wore no working blouse, and carried no tools,
but was gazing intently at the tower. Ata
sign from Augusta the carriage stopped, and
she asked what they were doing to the old
church.

“They are putting a clock in the tower,’
was the reply, while a smile, at once proud
and happy, passed across the speaker’s sun-
burnt face. ‘Look, there comes the young
master who has executed the work; he is
from Boberau, and — though perhaps I should
not mention it—-my only son.”

Augusta leaned out of the window. There,
in fact, stood Johnny, with his sensible, candid
countenance ; but the poor lad had become a
tall man, who had probably forgotten all about

the foolish little girl that insisted upon his
5%



54 AUGUSTA.

never making any more bird-cages. She an-
swered his polite salutation by a pleasant
smile, and the impatient horses trotted on.

But Augusta was not satisfied with merely
knowing that the little boy had become a tall
man; she wanted to know more about his life
and career, and, embracing the first convenient
opportunity, crossed the park, at that season
in the full beauty of its luxuriant foliage, and
went to the little dwelling where still lived the
seamstress, now quite alone.

The first thing that met her glance as she
crossed the threshold was a beautiful time-
piece, standing on a wooden bracket, in the
very spot whence the old-fashioned clock had
vanished. Its silvery bell was just sounding
ten o’clock as Augusta entered. After the
first greetings were over, she smilingly looked
toward the new clock, and said, “I think I
know who’s work that is.”

“Yes, indeed; Johnny has grown up into a
good man and an excellent clockmaker,” said
Louisa, with evident pride and delight; “ his
old father leads a happy life, and Mr. Feld-
mann’s sister lives with them to keep house.



AUGUSTA. 55

Her health is better than it used to be, but she
has grown quieter than ever, since her only son
died of the small-pox. Johnny lets neither of
them want for anything, and the old man may
well be proud of such a son. But, Miss Fa-
bian, next to God, he has to thank you for all
that. Do you remember when you gave him
a gold-piece to buy a watch for Mr. Feldmann?
Well, Providence guided him most singularly.
He went to town to buy the watch, and chanced
upon a most excellent-hearted watchmaker,
who did not rest until he had made all sorts of
inquiries about the lad, and satisfied himself as
to how so young a boy could buy a watch and
have a gold-piece to pay for it with. From
that time he never lost sight of Johnny. He
came occasionally to Boberau to inquire wheth-
er the watch kept good time, and always saw
as much of Johnny as he possibly could. The
lad, on his side, took a great fancy to the skil-
ful artificer.

“ When Johnny was confirmed, Mr. Wilden-
berg — for that was the watchmaker’s name —
sent him a bran-new suit of clothes, and then
came himself, to ask if he would not like to
learn his trade.



56 AUGUSTA.

“The offer made the lad very happy ; for he
had gone Saturday after Saturday to the city,
and had always watched with pleasure the pro-
ceedings of the master and his assistants, —
himself aiding in cleaning up old wheel-work,
or in doing anything else they would trust him
with. Idleness had never been one of Johnny’s
failings. Mr. Wildenberg asked no entrance-
money ; and as he was rich and childless,
promised to provide all necessary clothing.
When the young apprentice became a jour-
neyman, his master sent him to Geneva, or
some such place in Switzerland, where I be-
lieve the best watches are made. And so poor
Johnny became a worthy and skilful artisan,
inheriting all his master’s business and knowl-
edge, and much more beside. But he is not
the least proud ; he comes once every year to
visit Brookside, and I must always make him
a dish of broth such as my dear mother used
to give the carpenters. As long as the old
clock would go, he took the greatest pains to
keep it in order, — for he well knew how my
heart clung to all remembrances of former
times ; but at last even his skill could do



AUGUSTA. 57

nothing more for it, and one day, when I came
home from church, I found that pretty, neat
little timepiece on the bracket against the
wall.

« And we often talk about you, Miss Fabian,
when Johnny is here; he knows quite well
now, that all that about the birds was only a
pretext to induce him to take the money with-
out feeling it a mere gift. He often says:
‘God bless the young lady; without her com-
passionate sympathy, I should now probably be
nothing but a day-laborer, and able to do little
or nothing for my aged father.’ But Johnny
does not care only for his father and the
widow. Whenever the poor need his aid, he is
always ready to help them; and many are the
unfortunate in our own village whom he has
assisted through their troubles.”

Augusta stood by the window with stream-
ing eyes, and bent over the tall rosemary bush
— standing there as of old — to conceal her
emotion.

““ My good Louisa,” said she, finally, “ nei-
ther you nor the skilful young watchmaker are
right in ascribing to me the chief share in the

%



58 AUGUSTA.

deed, which, under God’s merciful guidance,
has had such wonderful consequences. If even
the least deed done through charity is seed
sown in the furrows of time to bring forth a
thousand-fold, then to your mother must be
given the honor you have so generously be-
stowed upon me. Her ‘ widow’s mite,’ as she
herself called it, excited my emulation; and
without her good thought of giving the poor
laborers something warm to eat, I should never
have known Johnny, and could never have
learned his story from you.
‘Thou canst to smallest deed of love
The greatest blessing give ;

O therefore, for my brother’s good,
Grant, Lord, that I may live!’ ”



n
i
A
a
0
n









CHRISTMAS EVE.

i

Tue Christmas Fair was drawing to a close.
While the large stores of the city were crowded
with persons still having purchases to make,
the keepers of the small booths on the market-
place had already begun to pack away the cakes,
candies, wax-figures, tapers, and endless hosts
of dolls yet remaining unsold. The sun had
set, and the buyers were hastening home to ar-
range the Christmas-tree for their little ones ;
here and there a poor mother would be bar-
gaining for a wooden doll or some candy
figures for her child, and obtain them at half
price merely because the ground, in spite of
the freezing cold, burned beneath the feet of
the seller, who was also longing to return to
her humble dwelling, where so many little

preparations and tender cares awaited her.

6
a



62 CHRISTMAS EVE.

The organ-grinder went moodily home, be-
cause, amid the universal hurry and confusion,
his music had obtained but slight notice and
slighter remuneration, not even a single street-
boy having been found to run after the organ-
man. The poorest among them had now full
occupation in enjoying the pleasures intended
for the children of the rich. Most minute was
the observation and intense the admiration
bestowed upon the various beautiful objects
exposed for sale. It is doubtful whether their
enjoyment could have been really greater had
they actually been possessed of those attractive
but perishable articles. In all probability, the
brilliant colors and fanciful forms, which had
at first attracted their gaze, would soon have
faded into the ordinary hues and common-
place shapes of every-day life. But, as it was,
these poor children, when at night they had
gone early to bed to keep warm, talked long
over the beautiful picture-books, the tin sol-
diers, the wooden horses, and the cuckoo with
real feathers that cried “Cuckoo!” when its
back was stroked. These wonders afforded
matter for conversation during the whole



CHRISTMAS EVE. 63

winter, and even until the earliest cherry-trees
blossomed. The pretty things were still fresh
in their memories when the actual tin soldiers
that had so enchanted them were disabled in
arm or leg, shorn of their weapons, or lying
decapitated in their broken boxes, when the
populous farmyard could boast of but a couple
of three-legged lambs or a hornless goat, when
the cuckoo no longer cried, the hobby-horse
had lost his skin, and the gayly-dressed doll,
with the little gold watch in its belt, looked
sadly like poor Cinderilla in the fairy-tale.
The children of the poor still enjoyed the mem-
ory of all these pretty things when the actual
receivers were perhaps surveying with disgust
their unsightly fragments, and wishing for an-
other Christmas to bring them a fresh supply.
In the counting-room of Mr. Hollmer, Coun-
sellor of Commerce, the book-keeper and a
young clerk were working away very busily
and very silently. The noises from the street
did not reach the dark, vaulted room in which
they sat, where the windows were all shut in
by iron bars, and the only prospect was upon
a court-yard, a carriage-house, and a stable.

*



66 CHRISTMAS EVE.

the pretty chased silver box as if it could have
felt the gentle caress, and then opened the lid
with the pleasant anticipations an habitual
taker of snuff would experience under similar
circumstances; but the box contained only a
neatly folded package of bank-notes, and the
fat angels of the vignettes seemed to have
blown out their checks especially to trumpet
forth Falkner’s unhoped-for happiness. At the
first moment, the good old man was quite dis-
appointed, that, instead of the fine “ Prince
Regent” usually taken by his employer, he
had only found a parcel of printed paper, but
the next instant he felt his eyes grow dim, and
passed his oil-cloth sleeve across his spectacles
as if to ascertain if they had left their post or
refused to fulfil their office. But the cause of
his momentary blindness lay deeper, for his
eyes were filled with tears springing from grat-
itude and heartfelt emotion. For once in his
life, he was rich enough to give with full
hands a pleasure he had always coveted, but
never before had been able to enjoy, as, al-
though his salary was a liberal one, he had to
provide for a sickly wife and a crippled brother-
in-law.



veterans ea
aa ‘

’
enero



SUR er Olt eal DE.



CHRISTMAS EVE.



CHRISTMAS EVE. 67

Falkner hastened out of the gloomy count.
ing-room to go to the market-place, now nearly
deserted, and buy whatever he fancied, with-
out those depressing restrictions on his gen-
erosity which had always hitherto tormented
him. He was so eager that he would have
gone out without having taken off his oil-
cloth shield, had not the younger clerk, to
his great confusion, made him aware of the
oversight.

When out in the street, he was met by a
boy with a Christmas-tree in his hands.

“Dear, kind sir,” said the boy, “do buy
my Christmas-tree. I would so like to go
home to mother and sister; this is the last I
have, and only see what a pretty one it is!”

Falkner could not have had the heart to dis-
appoint a request so urged ; he paid double the
price asked, and walked away as if he had
made the most important purchase in the
whole world. Some wax tapers and a paper
full of sugar figures were the next articles
bought, for they of course were necessary to
the adornment of the fragrant fir-tree, and
even if he had no children to enjoy the pretty



68 CHRISTMAS EVE.

sight, he thought: “By the aid of so many
lights my good old wife can so much the bet-
ter see to read in her new hymn-book, and
some hungry mouth can surely be found to
devour the sugar hearts, doves, and lambs.”

As he walked along, he saw, at the corner
of the street, Otto, the lamplighter, and his
little daughter Mary, who, with her hands
thrust under her kerchief, watched her father
as he filled the lamp with oil. The child had
no mother, and hence scarcely knew how a
Christmas-tree looked. Falkner knew the
lamplighter, whose dwelling was in the same
street as his own, to be a very needy, but a
very worthy man, and rejoiced that he had
met him and his child at the very moment
when he was able to give them a pleasure.

“ Will you go home with me and help me
carry my paper parcels?’ asked he of the
little girl. “ When your father has finished
lighting his lamps, he will come to our house
for you, and help us eat our supper of carp
and potatoes; my good wife is a most excellent
cook, and I am sure you will enjoy her savory
dishes.”



CHRISTMAS EVE. 69

The lamplighter could scarcely believe his
own ears. Looking down at his greasy jacket,
he said: “I am not fit to go, but I would like
my little girl to enjoy herself, and our merci-
ful Lord in heaven will bless you, sir, for your
kind thought.”

“ But why will you not go to the kind old
gentleman’s house?” asked the child, who
saw nothing amiss in her father’s oil-stained
jacket and battered hat. ‘“ You need only
take off your woollen muffler and wash your
hands at the pump.”

The father could not resist his child’s plead-
_ ing look, and nodded a smiling assent.

On his way home, Falkner bought a little
doll, and hid it in the breast-pocket of his over-
coat. A few steps farther on, he gave the
young lady a companion in the shape of a gi-
gantic gingerbread man, whose pointed hat
reached up to the top of his collar. Thus
laden, and carrying under his arm the tree,
whose branches nodded and rustled at every
step, as if it knew it was destined to bear a
distinguished part in the execution of a bril-

fiant idea, Falkner went up three steps into
%



70 CHRISTMAS EVE.

his pretty little house, and, crossing the nicely
sanded hall, entered a room from which issued
a most inviting and savory smell.

“Mother!” cried he to his wife, who stood
busily engaged before the stove, ‘see what I
have brought you; all the materials for a most
delightful Christmas eve.”’ So saying, he placed
the little green fir-tree upon a side table, care-
fully removing a great bunch of wax-flowers,
which dated from his wife’s girlhood, to make
way for his various packages. ‘‘ While I ar-
range matters here, do you prepare supper
enough for a couple of guests, this child and
a grown person who will come by and by,’
said he, rubbing his hands with pleasure and
drawing the child nearer the warm stove.

“Husband!” said Mrs. Falkner, coming to-
wards him and looking anxiously into his face.
“What is the matter? Are you mad, or have
you been drinking? A Christmas-tree! Have
you become a child again?”

*¢¢ Unless ye become as little children, ye can-
not enter into the kingdom of heaven,’ ”’ replied
the book-keeper, thus gently striving to avert
the coming storm. But he was not to escape so



CHRISTMAS EVE. 71

easily. His wife looked first at the child, and
then at the table, near which Mr. Falkner
stood adorning the tree with the various ar-
ticles he had brought home with him,—col-
ored tapers, sugar lambs with red ribbons
round their necks, doves with red heads and
tails, storks with red bills, hearts with red
darts inflicting crimson wounds, and rosy
lyres with golden strings. Finally, her eyes
fell upon the doll as her husband took it from
one pocket, and then upon the giant ginger-
bread on the opposite side. Her patience gave
way, and she broke forth into angry expostu-
lation. ‘‘ Have I then done without everything
J wanted, and baked no Christmas cakes, only
that you might squander the money upon such
useless things? And surely not for my sake!
I am past the years when one takes pleasure
in such things ;— no, indeed, you did not do
it for me, but for the first little beggar child
you met in the street. And just now to make
such senseless purchases, when the New Year
is at hand, and the rent and the apothecary’s
bill are to be paid. Our wood, too, is nearly
out, and the barber will look for a New-Year’s

%



72 CHRISTMAS EVE.

gift. Where do you expect te get all the
money from, old man, if you spend the little
you have so recklessly ?”

“Do not make my head ache, and yourself
out worse than you really are,’’ said Falkner,
soothingly. ‘I have received an extra supply
of money, and am going to have an extra de
gree of pleasure. Christmas comes but onc¢
a year.”

“Well for us it does, if you are often to
take such fancies!” said the wife, wringing her
hands. ‘Did ever one see such doings? A
steady, sensible man, who meets with an unex-
pected piece of good luck, thinks first of his
old age, and lays something aside to keep him
when he can no longer work. ‘ Who saves, in-
deed, can spend in need!’ But you were al-
ways just the same, always content to live on,
thinking only of the present day, and so, I
suppose, you will be to the end of time, let me
say what I may.”

A flood of tears here choked her utterance.
The book-keeper laid his hand upon her arm,
and said: “ Do not spoil my pleasure, mother.
In my gloomy office I but seldom see a ray



CHRISTMAS EVE. 73

of sunlight, and still more seldom a beaming
human countenance. This child has no mother
to dress a Christmas-tree for her, and so, for
once, I will play the part of one to her. Our
Lord and Master loved children very dearly,
and, as it is not often in our power to feed the
hungry, to visit the sick, or free the captive,
let us at least, in the person of this child, love
Him who has so loved us; else we can have
no share in the joy of this holy and beautiful
Christmas festival!”

*Do you mean to say that I am not a good
Christian,’”’ sobbed the wife, ‘because I give
you good advice, and take care that you do
not make a beggar of yourself? Who does
my saving benefit but you; for if these eyes,
from which you are wringing such bitter tears,
were closed in death, what would become of
you? You would be a ruined man, with
nothing in your home but empty tables and
cupboards, perhaps even tormented with un-
paid bills; while now, I attend to everything
so carefully, for your sake saving all I can, for
you who give me so little thanks, and even re-

proach me with that very saving.”
7



74 CHRISTMAS EVE.

The book-keeper knew from long experience
that any reply would only open the way for a
more copious stream of words, and hence was
silent while he drew from his pocket a strip of
gilt paper to ornament a handful of apples he
had bought on the way home. For this pur-
pose, however, he needed a little white of egg,
and hence was forced to ask his wife — the
key of the cupboard.

“An egg!” cried she, with a look of amaze-
ment at this new and unprecedented piece of
extravagance, — “an egg! Do you think I can
afford to buy eggs when they are twenty-four
cents a dozen? Have you suddenly become a
rich merchant, or have you drawn the great
prize in the lottery? If I were to buy eggs
when I have scarcely enough to pay for pota-
toes, I—I—”

Mrs. Falkner stopped for want of words ade-
quate to the expression of her indignation.
The apples were forced to remain ungilded,
but they did not look the less pretty with their
rosy cheeks among the green branches of the
Christmas-tree. Mary was then asked to assist
in lighting the tapers. How her eyes shone,



CHRISTMAS EVE. 75

and how careful she was not to touch any of
the pretty sugar figures with her little frozen
fingers. Never in all her life had she seen
anything half so beautiful.

Mrs. Falkner in her ill-humor over-salted
the fine mealy potatoes, clattered the knives
and forks, upset the tongs, and made a terrible
fuss sweeping up a couple of chips that had
fallen out upon the hearth. She did not wish
to be the first to speak again, and her husband
worked away adorning the Christmas-tree as if
he and the strange child had been the only per-
sons in the room.

Finally, the tapers were all lighted. Little
Mary clapped her hands and cried aloud with
delight. The neat little room looked bright as
day, and Mrs. Falkner could not avoid turning
her bead to see whence the illumination pro-
ceeded. But did she see aright? Was there
not a handsome hymn-book, bound in black,
lying open under the Christmas-tree, and near
it a pair of nice, warm gloves? These surely
could not be intended for the child. Her hus-
band held out both his hands toward her, and
said, with a good-natured smile: ‘ Come,

4



76 CHRISTMAS EVE.

mother, come and see what the Christ-child
has brought for you: ‘ A little with love’ must
be our motto. Try and see if you can read
better in the new book than in the old!”
Thus saying, he drew the still feebly resist-
ing old woman nearer to the table, and, laying
his hand upon her shoulder, held her fast while
she bent over the book, and her eyes fell upon
the following lines of a Christmas hymn : —

“ Thy silken bed and velvet robes
Are straw and swaddling bands alone,
Whereon a king, thou, rich and great,
Dost lie, as ’t were thy heavenly throne.

“ And thus hast thou been pleased to do,
The blessed truth to show to me,
That worldly honor, wealth, and might
Are nothing worth, compared with thee.”

Mrs. Falkner’s heart softened when she saw
how unjust she had been; she was ashamed of
her fears concerning the future; for could not
He who had sent his only Son into the world
to save sinners, also in his own good time send
his creatures all they needed? ‘ Seek first
the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and
all these things shall be added unto you,” says



CHRISTMAS EVE. adi

the Scripture; and in another place: “The
Lord loveth a cheerful giver.”

But Mrs. Falkner’s excessive economy had
prevented her ever availing herself of any op-
portunity of doing charitable deeds, and hence
she had never known the joy of giving. What
was it that now struck upon her heart and
made her feel that her husband was quite right
when he said: ‘“ This beautiful Christmas fes-
tival should not pass to you without pleasure
and gifts, even if we have no children to en-
joy it.”

What memory was it that filled her eyes
with tears. Did she think of a fair little head
laid years before in the silent grave? Sud-
denly leaving her husband’s side, she opened
the door of her neatly kept cupboard and took
out a small, warm shawl. Hanging it upon
the tree, she smiled as she said: ‘‘ The Christ-
mas-tree must have a pretty shawl, and who-
ever is to take off the sugar-candics must also
take the shawl.”

Great was the joy of the child! Meantime,
the door opened and the lamplighter stood,
hat in hand, upon the threshold. The old hat

7%

%



78 CHRISTMAS EVE.

looked greasier than ever, but it soon slipped
upon the floor, for when Otto saw what had
been done for his child, he folded his hands to-
gether and thanked God, who had made the
Christmas festival a season of rejoicing for both
rich and poor.

Had not the fish been in danger of burning,
and the potatoes of over boiling, the good
housewife would long have remained standing
before the Christmas-tree reading in her new
hymn-book. The words of the various hymns
seemed suddenly to have acquired a new and
deeper significance ; could this have been only
because the print was larger ?

The little table was soon set, and drawn up
close to the tree, so that the tapers might cast
as brilliant a light as possible over the social
board. The retiring lamplighter, in spite of
his reluctance, was forced to sit down. Little
Mary peeled his potatoes for him, and the mis-
tress of the house, divining his excellent appe-
tite, set before him a whole mountain of sour-
kraut. Such fish, with such sauce, neither
father nor daughter had ever tasted before.
Mrs. Falkner brought up a bottle of beer from



CHRISTMAS EVE. “9

the cellar and poured out the first glassful for
the lamplighter. They were a happy party.

When supper was over, and the good house-
wife went to remove the dishes from the table,
she found under her plate a roll of bank-notes,
the remainder of the Counsellor’s munificent
gift, which her husband had slyly slipped un-
der her plate. Although deeply grateful, she
felt none of that covetous joy she might have
experienced a few hours before.

« And thus hast Thou been pleased to do,
The blessed truth to show to me,
That worldly honor, wealth, and might
Are nothing worth, compared with Thee.”



80 CHRISTMAS EVE.

ee

_ Aw old soldier, with a barrel-organ on his
back, came, grumbling, down into the poor
cellar which was now his only home. His
wife was peeling potatoes, and looked very
happy; for was not this the eve of Christmas,
and had not the wife of the hatter, who lived
on the floor above, given her some lard she
had left from making crullers, and could she
not, hence, this evening regale her dear ones
with fried potatoes, and was not the little
coffee-pot merrily singing on the stove in
honor of the season, and its own unwonted
contents ?

The husband and wife stood face to face;
he ill-tempered and gloomy, and she with
her kind, contented countenance. ‘“ Rose,
where is Lizzy?” asked the man, placing the



CHRISTMAS EVE. 81

organ upon a high chest, and throwing off
the leather strap by which he carried it.

“Gone to the church, where there is a dis-
tribution to the poor,’ replied Rose; “but I
expect her home every moment, she will be
in such haste to show her Christmas gifts! I
am right curious to know what she will bring
home.”

“Nothing worth speaking of,” said the old
soldier, shortly ; “‘a handkerchief, an old pair
of shoes not worth mending, or, at best, a worn-
out dress that in a day or two will be too short
and too narrow. Of such distributions one
may always say, ‘ Great cry and little wool!’ ”

“ But, father, why are you so discontented
to-day? You know that the poor children are
always becoming more numerous, and in these
hard times even the most generous have little
to give.”

The old man gloomily shook his head.
“When one sees the people buying eatables
and clothes and playthings for young and
old, one does not think much about the hard
times,” said he. “I just now met the brewer
Lehmann’s servant coming from the express-



82 CHRISTMAS EVE.

office with a curious package,— a sort of can-
vas bag, from one side of which hung a pair
of birds’ heads, and from the other a couple
of bunches of the prettiest feathers you almost
ever saw. The servant called the creatures
pheasants, and the rich brewer had sent all
the way to Bohemia for them, only to add
another dainty to his Christmas dinner. You
know Lehmann and I were boys together. My
father, the gardener, often gaye him, a poor
little barefooted lad, a handful of apples. Well,
what do you think he gave me to-day, when I
played before his door? A penny! Ho, ho,
ho, I say for your rich folks!”

With a bitter laugh, the old soldier flung
himself upon the bench that ran round the
cellar wall, and supplied the place of chairs or
stools to the poor inmates.

“Father,” said the wife, handing him his
old house-jacket, that he might save his worn-
out coat as much as possible, and assisting
him to make the exchange without straining his
wounded arm, —‘“ Father, the rich have their
cares and sorrows as well as we; indeed, often
more severe ones than ours. Only think what



CHRISTMAS EVE. 83
















serable time Mr. Lehmann has with his
hter, who is getting a cataract on her eye.
ald you change with him, husband? Surely
! Let us leave the rich their dainties;
can only eat until they are satisfied, and
de the same with our turnips and
oes. Is it not much better they should
money among the people than
d be shut up in strong boxes,
do no good to any one? Our
both rich and poor, and so it must
. But, hark! there is Lizzy. How
uns down the dark stairway!” :
ment after, a little girl of from nine
ears old entered the room. She carried
ndle of clothes under her arm, and held
her head a great brown Christmas
id a large gingerbread.
her! father!’ cried she, quite out of
“O, I have gotten so much, so very
A warm dress, quite new, and a pair
-soled shoes. Here is some woollen
-me to knit you each a pair of stock-
d then the cake,—that will last us
the holidays are over!”



84 CHRISTMAS EVE.

Rose glanced at her husband, as if to say:
“See how unjust you were.”

“Did all the children. get as much as you?”
asked the father, merely for the sake of saying
something, and also feeling somewhat ashamed
of his previous ill-humor.

“Ono!” replied Lizzy. ‘‘ When the pastor
distributed the things, he said that God would
this time lay some especial blessing on the
gifts because they were so much fewer than
usual. The universal scarcity of money was
felt even by the most wealthy, and just at pres-
ent they were called upon to contribute to so
many charities they could not have much to
give to cach one. There were families that
had been burnt out, and whole districts that
had been flooded, asking for aid; hospitals
were to be built, and churches finished. There
was no end to the demands for assistance, and
hence the smallest gifts should be received with
gratitude to God and to the givers: and so they
were. I was coming home quite delighted with
my shoes and my gingerbread. As I passed by
the pretty house where that noble-looking lady
lives that once gave father a half-dollar for
playing our national airs under her window,



CHRISTMAS EVE. 85

I observed that the shutters were open, and I
looked up, hoping to see a Christmas-tree. A
bright light streamed through the window-
panes, but, as I afterwards found, it all came
from the chandelier. The lady, dressed in a
black silk gown and a snow-white cap, exactly
as she was on the day when she threw father
the silver-piece, stood near the window. I
made a courtesy, and you may think how sur-
prised I was when she beckoned to me with
her hand. I stood a moment doubtful whether
the sign could have been meant for me, when
the hall-door opened, and an old servant came
out and said he had been sent to take me up
to his mistress, the General’s lady, as he called
her. I followed him up stairs to a room with
a great many pictures hanging on the walls,
chiefly portraits of officers in uniform. There
was one among them which especially pleased
me: it represented quite a young man, with
cheeks as red as roses. He had a kind of steel
yest upon his breast, and beside him lay a
sword, and a helmet with a nodding plume.
‘That looks just like a hero, as I have heard

my father describe one,’ said I, half aloud.
8



86 CHRISTMAS EVE.

“¢ Yes, and like a hero he fell, fighting for
his king and his country,’ said a gentle voice
behind me. I turned, and for the first time
was aware that the strange lady was also in
the room. I was a little startled, but I had
said nothing amiss; and it soon struck me how
very much she resembled the picture of the
young soldier: the eyes and nose were exactly
the same.

*¢¢ Well, my dear child,’ said she, smiling,
but so mournfully that one felt at once she
must have known some great sorrow, ‘I have
never dressed a Christmas-tree since — since
God took away my only child, but every heart
must feel the influence of this holy season;
even the heart of a mother, sorrowing over the
wreck of her earthly happiness, finds consola-
tion in the thought that Christ was born to
take away the horror from death, and to bring
the blessing of immortal happiness to his chil-
dren, whom he will reunite in a better world.
I have but few earthly pleasures left me, but
would like to-day to bestow as much happiness
on others as I possibly can.’ So saying, she
gave me this warm dress, this yarn, and this



CHRISTMAS EVE. 87

nice cake, besides which she put in my hand
a little roll of money for my father and mother,
about whom she asked me many questions, and
then with folded hands stood near the table and
watched me while I counted over the money,
piece by piece, and tried in vain to express my
gratitude and delight. But I soon became im-
patient to run home and show all my pretty
things. mere

“¢ Your father can come to me once every
month, and I will always have something for
him,’ said the lady, as I kissed her hand and
bade her farewell. I left the room as if ina
dream, and the last thing I remember is, see-
ing the lady stand before the picture, gazing at
it with tears in her eyes. O, if I could only in
any way have consoled that poor lady! The
old servant stood ready to open the hall-door.
‘Ycu are the twelfth child my lady has called
in to-day, and all have received as much as
you,’ said he, with a friendly nod. ‘Ah yes,
she knows how to soothe her own sorrow by
doing good to all around her. May God bless
and comfort her!’ ”

“The poor, good lady!” said mother Rose,

a



88 CHRISTMAS EVE.

wiping her eyes with the corner of her necker-
chief. ‘To lose her only child, a son who was
probably the delight of her heart! How hard
that must have been!”

Thus saying, she pressed Lizzy’s head to her
bosom, as if to express her joy and gratitude
that the darling of her own heart was still left
to bless and comfort her.

The old soldier had stepped to the window,
and seemed to be looking out upon the bright
stars shining in the cloudless sky. He had
taken off his cap, and his lips were moving in
silent prayer. ‘ My God, forgive my murmur-
ing! And the poor, rich lady, who suffers from
no want of earthly goods, and yet is so much
more unfortunate than we who are so poor in
all the world calls wealth,—bless her with
thy grace, and grant her thy heavenly con-
solation ! ””



CHRISTMAS EVE, 89

Til.

THE evening service was over.
people streamed out of the village church.
The snow crackled under the hurried foot-
steps with which they hastened to their homes.
A pillar of smoke rose from every chimney,
and lights already shone in many a window.
For a few moments the church windows
gleamed with the bright lamps within, but
they were soon extinguished, and the little
building stood dark and lonely among the
snow-covered graves. The children, who had
each brought a lighted taper to the church to
add to the general illumination, ran home as
fast as they could, for the Christmas-trees
were now to be lighted, and the long-expect-
ed presents to be given.

Mr. Miiller, the schoolmaster, had scarcely
8*
%



90 CHRISTMAS EVE.

time to take off his overcoat, for his three boys
were hanging round him in a state of great
excitement, anxiously awaiting the moment
when the bell was to ring, and they were to
storm the sitting-room, which had been shut
up ever since dinner.

“Ts your old nurse, Anna, here yet?” asked
Mr. Miiller, looking round the dimly-lighted
room. “As she has come to live in our vil-
lage, she must not fail to spend her Christmas
eve with us. You did not forget to go for her,
did you, children?”

The boys looked at each other in blank dis-
may ; in the anticipation of the coming pleas-
ure, they had, indeed, forgotten her. George,
the eldest, ran off quite ashamed, and, in his
eagerness to atone for his neglect, did not
heed the keen wind that blew the drifting
snow into his face, and reddened his aching
hands.

“Dear Anna,” cried he, as soon as he
reached the entry of the little cottage, “ you
must come up to father’s with me, or else
we cannot enjoy our Christmas supper. Come
quick, quick, Mother Anna; we boys are just







CHRISTMAS EVE. 91

wild as ever; you know us of old; we are
ot very good at waiting!”

George had, meantime, opened the door of
the old woman’s sitting-room, and was amazed
to see a small Christmas-tree, all lighted up,
standing on the table. Mother Anna seemed
to have heard neither the boy’s call nor his
noisy entrance. George, remembering that
the old dame was somewhat hard of hearing,
did not wonder at this, but he was amazed
to find her standing before a fir-tree, adorned
with gilded sugar-plums, and all lighted up
with colored tapers. Under the tree lay sey-
eral broken playthings, a book with a torn cov-
er, and a wooden pencase, from which time
had nearly obliterated the ornamental color-
ing. Mother Anna first took up one and then
another object from the table, and looked at
them with swimming eyes. George closed the
door behind him and approached the tree.
The old woman then, for the first time, ob-
served him, and started back an instant at
finding she had had a witness to her strange
proceedings.

“ What are you doing, Anna?” asked the

a



92 CHRISTMAS EVE.

boy, stretching out his hand toward the book
that lay under the Christmas-tree. ‘ Whom
are these intended for?” continued he, point-
ing to a little company of tin soldiers, a head-
less and tailless wooden horse, and a battered
leather ball.

The old woman wiped away her tears, and
said: “It is now my chief pleasure at Christ-
mas to bring before me the time when my
Godfrey was a child and still with me. Nearly
fifteen years have passed away since he went
on his travels as a journeyman mason, and
from that day to this I have never heard a sin-
gle word from him. It does me good to go
back to old times. Besides, I had last night
a very strange dream about my dear child.
He stood in this very room, and said to me:
‘Mother, when will the Christmas-tree be
ready?’ Filled with joy, but with trembling
hands, I dressed the tree, and, having nothing
else belonging to him, I laid his old playthings
and torn catechism on the table. He joyfully
stretched out his hands to me, when I awoke.
And this whole day I have heard, sounding in
my ears, yes, in the very bottom of my heart:






















CHRISTMAS EVE. 93

her, when will the Christmas-tree be
gi 22?

of the Christmas-tree awaiting him at
and he begged the old nurse to go with
the house, where his parents and broth-
expecting her. But she shook her
und aid: “Let me stay where I am; I
lonely as you may perhaps think, for
hts of days long past come and
pany. When the lights are all
out, I will go to bed, for I feel quite
the cold in the church. I will come
and see all your pretty things.”
e found all his entreaties vain. Moth-
. was not to be persuaded, and soon
ick to the tree and the old playthings.
peealy forced to return home without

ed ce at Godfrey’s name, written in a
, childish hand, on the first page of
atechism, anid kissed the faded letters over
wer again. One light after another went

ing the room quite filled with the per-

a



Full Text








Package Processing Log















Package Processing Log







12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM Error Log for UF00003226_00001 processed at: 12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00001.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00001.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00002.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00002.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00003.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00003.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00008.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00008.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00016.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00016.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00017.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00017.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00018.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00018.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00019.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00019.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00020.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00020.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00021.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00021.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00022.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00022.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00023.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00023.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00024.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00024.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00025.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00025.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00026.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00026.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00027.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00027.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00028.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00028.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00029.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00029.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:48 PM 00030.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00030.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00031.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00031.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00032.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00032.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00033.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00033.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00034.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00034.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00035.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00035.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00036.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00036.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00037.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00037.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00038.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00038.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00039.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00039.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00040.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00040.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00041.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00041.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00042.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00042.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00043.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00043.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00044.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00044.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00045.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00045.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00046.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00046.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00047.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00047.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00048.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00048.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00049.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00049.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00050.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00050.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00051.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00051.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00052.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00052.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00053.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00053.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00054.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00054.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00055.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00055.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00056.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00056.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00057.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00057.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00058.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00058.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00059.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00059.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00060.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00060.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00061.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00061.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00062.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00062.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00063.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00063.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00064.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00064.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00065.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00065.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00066.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00066.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00067.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00067.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00068.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00068.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00069.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00069.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00070.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00070.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00071.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00071.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00072.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00072.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:49 PM 00073.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00073.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00074.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00074.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00075.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00075.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00076.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00076.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00077.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00077.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00078.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00078.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00079.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00079.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00080.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00080.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00081.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00081.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00082.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00082.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00083.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00083.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00085.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00085.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00086.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00086.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00087.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00087.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00088.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00088.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00089.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00089.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00090.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00090.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00091.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00091.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00092.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00092.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00093.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00093.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00094.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00094.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00095.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00095.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00096.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00096.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00097.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00097.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00098.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00098.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00099.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00099.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00100.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00100.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00101.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00101.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00102.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00102.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00103.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00103.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00104.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00104.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00105.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00105.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00106.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00106.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00107.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00107.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00108.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00108.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00109.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00109.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00110.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00110.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00111.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00111.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00112.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00112.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00113.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00113.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00114.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:50 PM 00114.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00115.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00115.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00116.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00116.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00119.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00119.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00120.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00120.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00121.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00121.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00122.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00122.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00123.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00123.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00124.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00124.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00125.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00125.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00126.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00126.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00127.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00127.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00128.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00128.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00129.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00129.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00130.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00130.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00131.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00131.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00132.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00132.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00133.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00133.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00134.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00134.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00135.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00135.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00136.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00136.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00137.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00137.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00138.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00138.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00139.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00139.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00140.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00140.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00141.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00141.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00142.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00142.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00143.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00143.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00144.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00144.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00145.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00145.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00146.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00146.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00147.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00147.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00148.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00148.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00149.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00149.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00150.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00150.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00151.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00151.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00152.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00152.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00153.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00153.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00154.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00154.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00155.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00155.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00156.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00156.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00157.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00157.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00158.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:51 PM 00158.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00159.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00159.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00160.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00160.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00161.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00161.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00162.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00162.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00163.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00163.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00164.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00164.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00165.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00165.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00166.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00166.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00167.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00167.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00168.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00168.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00169.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00169.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00170.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00170.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00171.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00171.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00172.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00172.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00173.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00173.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00174.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00174.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00175.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00175.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00176.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00176.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00177.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00177.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00179.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00179.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00180.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00180.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00181.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00181.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00182.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00182.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00183.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00183.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00184.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00184.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00185.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00185.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00186.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00186.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00187.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00187.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00188.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00188.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00189.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00189.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00190.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00190.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00191.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00191.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00192.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00192.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00193.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00193.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00194.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00194.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00195.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00195.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00196.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00196.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00197.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00197.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:52 PM 00198.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00198.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00199.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00199.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00200.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00200.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00201.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00201.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00202.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00202.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00203.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00203.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00204.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00204.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00205.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00205.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00206.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00206.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00207.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00207.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00208.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00208.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00209.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00209.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00210.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00210.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00211.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00211.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00212.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00212.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00213.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00213.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00214.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00214.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00215.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00215.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00216.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00216.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00217.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00217.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00218.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00218.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00219.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00219.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00220.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00220.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00221.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00221.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00222.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00222.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00223.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00223.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00224.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00224.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00225.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00225.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00226.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00226.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00227.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00227.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00228.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00228.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00229.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00229.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00230.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:53 PM 00230.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00231.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00231.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00232.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00232.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00233.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00233.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00234.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00234.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00235.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00235.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00236.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00236.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00237.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00237.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00238.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00238.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00239.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00239.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00240.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00240.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00241.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00241.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00242.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00242.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00243.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00243.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00244.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00244.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00245.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00245.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00246.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00246.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00247.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00247.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00248.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00248.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00249.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00249.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00251.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00251.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00252.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00252.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00253.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00253.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00254.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00254.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00255.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00255.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00256.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00256.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00257.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00257.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00258.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00258.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00259.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00259.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00260.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00260.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00261.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00261.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00262.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00262.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00263.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00263.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00264.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00264.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00265.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00265.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00267.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00267.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00268.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00268.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00269.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00269.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00270.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00270.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00271.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:54 PM 00271.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00272.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00272.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00273.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00273.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00274.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00274.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00275.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00275.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00276.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00276.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00277.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00277.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00278.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00278.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00279.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM 00279.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:37:55 PM














aa al Aad ee ee ee ee ie eee ee ee
MME MAE i el ee ee a ae ee ee ee

a NN PAT FPG i
Sd pee ge Sa we EI Bs



Hie Pen eS pe Pt bi . wed 7 eae
5 a oe Na et Nee eet Po phd a) oP et Ps





+



Naat halt el ad rt an et om
ae
vk yet

of eho tn Pe Se Pe ADT re

ee EEN 4 pe Lire Ue SM hi bd: . — Ses
Me a0 Zs, 2 wy y on . Sa gas ae 2 INI AD :
FON) Pe ae
Pca a pe pata aaP ee
CT SIRE an penn pear eS
canal perros J Paha aed = kad 5





-
re

eat rer eal ot ted te ed he oe at

=
Se
SAP &
4 3
. :
aa
& **
ce 4.
Pa % ia -
" ee)
OO GLP A ASE OO Se?
ne? Pal RNS NI RES . ,
- * a7
eee
‘Ce be 16
et tt
ey
ey
Pai
oy oth
So
+t" -
Ve
:
3 {.
& ©
a +
3 eS
‘ .
&

a ae Se tn ee ee en ea Sata a eT
ra ePID dD od ID GI RS GIST TIBT TE
NE eee a ee hn ten Bee Deine



rer ey err

wrirr ever &

a cin
a Pl




-
cs

a
By
os

eee Dein et Seal |
r

‘Te an 2a he a i Ae an ae ee Le

a |

Ben am , Ck he Ate eet ee

DA At Te dE has Bs 4

PEI A ST nD neal edd ea ee
ee ; etna ua nn ae



meee seas 2) Us

RS a aad
Se ANI ar oS wa

,? Soe pant aie and x Pinta
eS wl ag ig «Gp te = ag ey =e ee >
Se ET

os
2,

Rive perry +r ae

wy as ites te sh bh ake ee he ee

,

Retr ha a Ca










a
.
+ P
“ Fs -
Ste Bee
Se b
ke ;
Ye SS if
We} 7 o
eyes F
re
i) Te.
oe es F
te Pe
fe
oad pa
Att
ae ne
" .* ,
Ab SA ,
ae 3
Wk ee.
See oy
the
3% :
So 5 54
gee.
DSS J i
Aire Ree cf
1 pa
ae Bes Tea
ae
tee
(4 ee
Pye
v o it Lie ee %
- gga oe a —S
Seemcad : Ree ae eek daienas ane Caen eee ann oe boa bh nia tenn
- Nd NN OE cae aca alte, Skin tietin Miia atin, ht ian Rin Ne dept tae ee”
ar ak

el” Da cheek ees ee ia ite ee ae aa a ee ad eae ee et










~ Sata, ak al natn aie Sais ie



i — ae ee SO A aD I I im Oe ee ee

. WRAP <7 rns PE eS s- we fae oS
SE Ee ae pT Pl OS al NOE TE SOT PD Paden =. os
1 SR tig sr Na TO NN OO I III el lA LD ODD Ss dan, ee Pi es


a f é


Chhwavit wz Mf
aw Chit hia LELn

/ Us he
Ci he. ELLs :
MM bias hv I00b Co,

a dd a 7
{
* OMe

AE tev cnae: -
ne



AUGUSTA.
HOLLY AND MISTLETOE.

TALES

7
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF

ROSALIE KOCH.

BY



Nd eh cp tod

Cranermattel.

BOSTON:
CROSBY, NICHOLS, AND COMPANY, '

117 Wasaineton Street.
1860.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by
CROSBY, NICHOLS, & Co.,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE =
ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED BY WELCH, BIGELOW, & CO.
AUGUSTA. A

CHRISTMAS EVE.

THE YOUNG GUEST.

GREENGREEN.
ODA’S GIFT.

CASTLE HILL.

CONTENTS.

TALE. . .

SCENES.

A LEGEND.
A LEGEND.

A LEGEND.

A TALE.

.
DEDICATION.

DEAR JOSEPHINE : —

Amone our forefathers on both sides of
the ocean, Holly and Mistletoe have long
been emblematic of the freshness and warmth
to be kept living in the heart by Christian
love, when all nature without lies cold and
dead. Whether, then, in Mngland or Amer-
ica, will you not keep a corner of your
Christmas table for this little wreath of ever-
green, as well as a warm place in your

heart for your friend and cousin ?

THE TRANSLATOR.
AUGUSTA.

A TALE.
AUGUSTA.

“A etter! A real letter for me, and
through the post-office! Only look, dear
mother, and see what is written on the back:
‘To Augusta Fabian, Brookside.” It must
certainly be from grandmother!”

Thus cried a little girl, as, almost breathless
with running, she came bounding into her
mother’s room.

“ And there is a package with it ;— the man
had some trouble in getting it out of his leather
bag. What in the world can grandmother be
writing to me about?”

Augusta’s hands fairly trembled with delight
as she strove to remove the envelope without
breaking the pretty red seal which held it fast,
for this first letter was to be added to her little
4 AUGUSTA.

store of treasures, and at the first convenient
opportunity be displayed to her young com-
panions. Such a first letter is a real El Do-
rado to the fancy of a child, and even in after
years we can never look upon the worn and
faded pages without a faint thrill of the same
vague sensation of delight which accompanied
their first reception.

Augusta seemed never weary of reading her
letter, first to herself, then_to her mother, hey
father, and her doll; even the servants had to
pause in their work to listen to this wonderful
epistle. The pretty dress and the bright gold-
piece contained in the accompanying package
were quite thrown into the shade when com-
pared with the important document addressed
to Miss Augusta herself.

What then were the contents of the good
grandmother’s letter? Nothing excépt that
she intended in a few days to visit her son who
lived on the bank of the Rhine, whence she
would proceed to the baths at Ems, and in the
latter part of the summer would come to
Brookside, where she would remain until after
Christmas. But as her dear little grandchild’s
AUGUSTA. 5

birthday was near at hand, she would not delay
the pleasure she had in store for her, but send
her at once the present she intended to bestow,
with the express provision that Augusta was
to spend the gold-piece entirely according to
her own fancy and inclination.

The amount of money sent seemed to the
little girl an almost inexhaustible treasure, for
the piece was worth between eleven and twelve
dollars. After pondering awhile she said: “I
will buy me lemon puddings every day, for
after father, mother, and grandmother, I think
I like lemon puddings better than anything
else in the whole world. May I, mamma?”

“They would soon cease to give you pleas-
ure, my little daughter, or they might disagree
with you and make you sick,” replied Mrs.
Fabian, smiling; “ but you may make the trial
if you like.”

Augusta said nothing, but shook her head.
After a short pause, she asked, hesitatingly:
“ But fresh milk-rolls ?””

“To have them fresh, you would be obliged
to send to town, more than three miles, every
day,’’ was the reply.
6 AUGUSTA.

“O, I could pay the errand-boy out of my
money,” suggested Augusta.

“ Yes, for a long time,” returned the mother ;
“but then you would have become so accus-
tomed to them that you would not like the nice
white bread we bake in the house; you must
think of that, you little gourmand.”

The child hung her head, and, sighing deeply,
said: “It is not so pleasant as I thought it
would be to have a great deal of money, for
one is so troubled to know how to spend it.
There is always something to be considered.
I think I will put the pretty gold-picce into the
little money-safe Uncle Gustavus gave me.”

“Tf you intend to keep it for some certain
purpose, such as to buy new books for the
school children, or to send poor sick Jacob, the
sexton’s son, who cuts out such pretty figures
for you, on a little journey for his health, I
have nothing to say; but I should be very sorry
to see you keeping your gold-picce only to
look at, or still worse, to employ as the begin-
ning of a treasure that was to be always in
creased by continual saving, and enjoyed
merely for its own sake. A child should never
be miserly.”
wre

AUGUSTA. 7

“O mother, you do not think I could ever
grow like old Dame Frauzen, down in the vil-
lage, who gets up in the middle of the night
to count over her money, and wears her dead
husband’s old jackets, and all summer long
lives upon root soup and cresses because they
cost her nothing ?”’

“T have no fear,” replied Mrs. Fabian, “ that
my little daughter will ever stint herself in
eating and drinking for the purpose of saving
money; she is altogether too fond of good
things for that. But can you really think of
no better use for your unexpected riches than
to put them in a money-safe? Think the mat-
ter carefully over for a few minutes.”

“How long will it be before my birthday
comes?” asked Augusta, after a little consid-
eration.

“To-day is the thirtieth of March: it will be
four whole weeks.”

“TT have it! I have it!’’ cried the child,
jumping up and clapping her hands. “TI will
have tableaux vivans ; you remember, mother,
what pretty ones we saw at the Collector’s in
the city; there were two little girls in pink
8 AUGUSTA.

dresses, with powdered hair, and wreaths of
roses on their heads. Ah, that was beautiful!
And how everything shone with satin and
spangles! Yes, dear mother, I would like to
have just such tableaux ; in my fairy-book
there are some beautiful pictures all made up
of groups of children. I will have a fine gilt
frame, and a flowered carpet to stand on. Our
doctor’s Gertrude, Emily the pastor’s daughter,
and the schoolmaster’s niece Anna, must all
help me. O, we shall have a charming time!”

“ But I do not think our good pastor will
give his money to be spent in such useless
things as spangles, powder, and paint,” replied
Mrs. Fabian. “I think he would rather em-
ploy it in making good soup for the sick, or in
buying a warm cloak for some poor woman.
If Emily is to represent such a little dressed-
up doll, even supposing her parents give their
permission, you will have to provide her dress.
I think Anna will be in the same case, and I
doubt much whether your money will be
enough for all.”

“T think it will, mother; it is such a very
great deal. If you will take me to town to-
AUGUSTA. 9

morrow, we can buy everything that will be
needed, — gauze, and satin, and spangles, and
flowers, and —”’

“ But you know, my dear,’ here interrupted
the mother, “that our horses are busy carry-
ing stone for the new asylum for the sick and
poor that your father is erecting. Would you
like the building to be delayed, even for a single
day, only for the sake of a little amusement?
Papa wishes the corner-stone to be laid on
your birthday, and I thought the idea gave you
great pleasure.”

“Yes, yes,” said Augusta, somewhat abashed,
“T will wait until some day when the horses
are obliged to go to town, and then we can go
too and make our purchases.”

“Then your father and I are to be enter-
tained on your birthday by sccing three or
four fancifully dressed little children sitting in
a frame and neither moving nor playing about.
Now do you think,” continued Mrs. Fabian,
with a mischievous smile, “that it will be
worth your while to give yourself so much
trouble and spend so much money only for us
who find no especial enjoyment in that sort of
childish exhibition ?”
10 AUGUSTA.

“QO mamma, you and papa are not to be
the only spectators, but the doctor, and the
pastor, and many other guests must be invited ;
and then we will want music, that we may have
a dance afterwards.”

“ What!” cried the mother in amazement,
“are you going to invite grown-up people to
your entertainment ? . Papa has said he did
not wish us to have any company this spring
and summer, because he wants to employ all
the money he can spare on the new building,
and do you think that grown-up persons will
accept an invitation sent only in the name of
our little daughter ?”

Augusta looked down in embarrassment,
and finally asked: “But I can invite some
children, can I not? You have always allowed
me to do that, mother. You can have a cake
baked for me, and I will give it all to my
guests ; then a little tea will certainly not cost
too much; there are plenty of good things
in the storeroom, and we are not so poor,
mamma —”’

She suddenly ceased, and her eyes fell before
her mother’s mild but serious gaze.
AUGUSTA. ll

“ Our kind Heavenly Father,” said the latter,
gently, “has certainly given us a sufficiency of
this world’s goods, but they are only lent us
that we may aid those who are suffering from
want of them. We did not receive them for
our own comfort alone, still less to supply us
with luxurics, and we must one day render
a strict account of their use. This you do
not yet comprehend, my child, although your
parents and your teachers have taught you
enough of your kind Heavenly Father, and of
the gratitude duc to him, to know that it is a
greater joy to aid the poor and needy than to
buy daintics or wear fine clothes. However,
little as I care for such spectacles, I will not
for this time prevent your enjoying yourself
according to your own fancy, but I make it a
condition that you must not allow your pro-
jected entertainment to interfere with any of
your duties; that is, you must not neglect your
lessons at school, or be inattentive to our good
pastor during the hour he devotes to your in-
struction.”

Augusta promised fairly ; but it was fortu-
nate that the lessons for the day were already
12 AUGUSTA.

over when the letter arrived, for her imagina-
tion was now filled with the beautiful pictures
she intended to have represented, and the
fairy-book was again and again consulted to
determine the forms and colors of the various
costumes. She purposed herself first appear-.
ing as a fairy, then as little Red Riding-Hood,
and finally as Blanchadine in the story of the
seven dwarfs, at the moment when the wicked
queen, disguised as an apple-woman, gives her
the poisoned fruit. The costume of the fairy
gave her much trouble: it ought to be very
splendid, of pink satin and silver gauze; but
then with so much money she thought she
could buy all that could possibly be required.
Having obtained her mother’s permission, she
went, towards evening, to see the village seam-
stress, who must of course be taken into con-
fidence. The day was cold, and showers of
sleet alternated with short intervals of sun-
shine. Kven the snow-drops, growing profuse-
ly in the park through which Augusta’s way
led, hung their pretty heads as if bewailing
the absence of the warmth which the back-
ward spring still denied them. The little girl
AUGUSTA, 13

wore a thick cloak, and covered her hands with
the same warm muff as at Christmas. As she
passed an open space across which the wind
blew with especial keenness, she could not help
pitying the carpenters, who, axe in hand, were
busily engaged in hewing out the timbers for
the new asylum. the little house where dwelt the scamstress and
her old invalid mother. As Augusta opened
the door, she experienced a most agrecable
sensation of warmth and comfort; the old
woman stood by the stove cooking broth in
several large pots, while the daughter, Louisa,
sat sewing at the window in the shadow of a
tall rosemary bush. The room was clean and
orderly, blue cups and plates stood ranged
upon the shelves against the wall, where also
hung an old-fashioned clock, ticking loudly
and merrily. In one corner stood a small bed,
covered with a neat brown calico spread. The
carpenters seemed to have heard the hoarse
tones of the clock striking the hour for quit-
ting work, for they put away their tools, and all
came toward the little house. Meantime, the

old woman placed on the table three bowls
2
14 AUGUSTA.

nearly filled with slices of brown bread, over
which she then poured the smoking broth.
While laying the spoons beside each dish, she
gave a friendly greeting to the men, who en-
tered one after the other, returning the kind
salutation, and casting longing looks toward
the table. One of them had already taken up
a spoon to help himself, when the old woman,
stepping to the head of the table, folded her
hands and said: —
“ Whether cating, whether drinking,
On our Lord we should be thinking,

Who each good to man hath given,
Life, health, labor, hope in Heaven.”

The poor, hungry workmen paused a mo-
ment in inward thanksgiving, and then began
their simple meal, which they so thoroughly
enjoyed that it was a pleasure to see them eat.

‘“* Are all these people your relations,” asked
Augusta, who had been looking on in wonder,
“or do you keep a kind of inn for them?”

‘¢-Yes and no,” replied the seamstress, smil-
ing; “the poor are all brothers and sisters,
and it is God’s will that all human beings,
rich and poor, lowly and lofty, should feel
AUGUSTA. 15

thus toward one another, but otherwise we
scarcely know these men, even by name. You
see, my dear young lady, that, whether one
possesses ever so much or ever so little, one
ought to employ whatever one can spare in the
service of one’s fellow-creatures. My mother
has often grieved, that, since father’s death, she
has had so little to give away; but when your
noble father sent for the men to hew out the
timber for the asylum, and they began their
work here under our very windows, it dis-
tressed her to the heart to see that the poor
fellows had to labor all day in the cold, with-
out anything warm to cat, or any refreshing
drink, except that in their brandy-flasks. She
said: ‘I can no longer labor, and my hands are
very feeble, but I am still strong enough to
cook a pot of warm broth for those poor men ;
they may then, perhaps, leave off their brandy,
which may, in the end, cost them their health
and the happiness of their whole lives.’ Moth-
er’s own expericnce on this point has been a
very sad one. Well, she spoke with the men,
and they were, of course, very much pleased
with the offer; they bring us the refuse wood,
16 AUGUSTA.

which, of right, belongs to them, and with that
mother cooks them, twice a day, a good warm
broth, or sometimes at noon a smoking dish of
potatoes. It is a real pleasure to see how
grateful they feel, and then they hold mother
in such high honor that they will even allow
her to speak a word of warning when she sees
that any of them still go to the tavern, or oth-
erwise waste their wages on foolish things.”

“ But that will not make her any richer,’
said Augusta.

“She has no thought of gain,” replied the
seamstress. ‘ Mother considers such deeds as
her widow’s mite, offered through love to God,
and remembers that he often sends the great-
est blessings upon the most trifling actions.
From time to time, one or another of the
wives of the men living at a distance has come
with tears in her eyes, and thanked mother
that her husband had reformed his life and
given up drinking. Another has rejoiced that
her husband, who had never before thought of
prayer, now went with her every Sunday to
church, and did his best to bring up the chil-
dren in the fear and love of God; and for all

oP)
AUGUSTA. 17

this, she said she had only my mother to
thank. But here I am, my dear young lady,
talking so much to you about this matter,
which J am sure mother would rather not
have mentioned.”

Louisa here broke off. The carpenters were
gayly entertaining each other at their table,
gladly resting after the toil and exposure of
the day in so warm and comfortable a room.
The wind without had lulled, and Augusta
took advantage of the bright, clear twilight
to return to the manor. While listening to
Louisa, she had entirely forgotten the object
of her visit.

*¢T will go back to-morrow,” said she to her-
self, adding in thought, “but not at supper-
time, for then Louisa can think of nothing but
her mother and her mother’s guests, and when
we talk together we must be quite undis-
turbed.”

In the evening she told her mother all she
had seen and heard at Dame Muntzer’s, and
that there were so many strange men in the
room she could not have her talk with the
seamstress. Mrs. Fabian seemed quite de-

2
18 AUGUSTA.

lighted with her little daughter’s account, and
said she must know the widow better, for she
felt much pleased with this proof of her disin-
terestedness and humanity; indeed, it made
her feel quite ashamed, for, as the wife of the
builder of the asylum, she should herself have
considered the welfare of the poor carpenters
so far away from their homes; but that this
was only another proof of how much real good
could be done with very little money, and that
genuine charity could always find a way to be
useful to others.

That night Augusta lay long awake before
the sand-man came stealing by on his noiseless
soles, dropping the fine grains into her pretty
blue eyes. She had so very much to think
about ;—the gilt frame for her tableaux, the
suitable costume for the fairy, the many lamps
and candles that would be needed, the music
for the dance, and also whether she could not
persuade the forester’s apprentice to represent
the wolf in little Red Riding-Hood ; he would
certainly know all about wild beasts, and the
sleigh-robes or her father’s fur coat would do
the rest.
AUGUSTA. 19

It was quite late before she fell asleep, and
then she dreamed of ugly dwarfs and poisoned
apples; indeed, she had just fallen into the
clutches of a horrid monster with sharp teeth
that was going to eat her up in spite of her sil-
ver gauze dress, when she was awakened by
her mother’s voice, saying: ‘“‘ Come, my little
girl, jump up; it is late, and you will have to
make haste to be ready in time for school!”

“For school! Ome!”

Augusta suddenly remembered that she had
forgotten to learn her morning task, some vig-
orous lines in praise of charity : —

“Tf one all knowledge and all wisdom had, —
Could speak with tongues of angels and of men, —
Yet were devoid of faithful, generous love,

Such gifts were useless in the sight of God.
As sounding brass or tinkling cymbal, vain
The man, the Christian, bearing not the fruit
Of love, —a hollow rind without a core.
E’en could he prophesy, and had all faith, —
Could mountains move, could heal the deaf, the blind,
Should give his all to feed the needy poor,
And yield his body living to the flames, —
Yet had not charity within his soul,

Still useless would he be in sight of God.
True love is patient, gentle, tender, mild,
20 AUGUSTA. é

And ever ready swiftly to bring aid ;

Is never jealous, seeketh not her own ;

Is never proud, hates none, but counsels all ;
Is never angry, and, whene’er she can,

Turns evil into good, protecting all.

Sweet Charity is grieved when wrong is done,
Rejoicing when the truth and right prevail.
She covereth with a veil her neighbor’s faults,
Enduring all things, loving peace and rest ;
Envying none, believing still the best,

She hopeth all for sinners and ill-doers.

With brightest innocence herself enrobed,
She waits with patience, breathing no complaint.
When science faileth, human lore is naught,
Love groweth ever, filling earth and heaven.
When Faith and Hope have passed away with time,
Love bideth throughout all eternity.

Lord Jesus, thou the Love Incarnate, grant
That I may love my neighbor as myself,

And ever ready stand to help and serve
Whene’er a fellow-mortal needs my aid.”

Augusta confessed with shame, that think-
ing over her birthday festival had caused her
for the first time in her life to forget her les-
son, and promised that this should never hap-
pen again. Mrs. Fabian uttered not a word
in reproof, but merely said: “If you have not
yet learned the words of those beautiful lines,
at least embrace their meaning with your
AUGUSTA. 21

whole heart; love your fellow-creatures, the
poor, the sorrowing, the wretched and forsa-
ken most of all, and forget your own self in
serving and consoling all who need aid or con-
solation. The good scamstress’s poor old
mother affords an example of charity and
humanity well-pleasing to God, and which
must surely excite the admiration and emula-
tion of my good little daughter. I remember
a beautiful hymn, which says :—

“Truly loving, all ye Christians,

Kindly with your brethren live,

Each one ready for the other
Even life itself to give.

Such the love our Lord has borne us,
Suffering, dying, for our sake,

Each disciple grieves his Master
Will not his example take.”

Augusta felt her mother’s seriousness very
deeply, and she was also sorry to disappoint
her teacher by not having learned her lesson.

“ Ah!” she sighed, “if the letter and the
money had only not come, my heart would be
much lighter than it is now.”

Nevertheless, she could scarcely wait until
22 AUGUSTA.

afternoon again to visit the seamstress, and
soon after dinner ran through the garden, fairy-
book in hand, to show Louisa the pictures she
wished to have represented. The weather was
much milder than on the previous day, and
here and there, under the old trees, appeared
little sprouts of green, seemingly reckless of
the wintry winds that might still be expected.
The sun shone brightly down upon the place
where the carpenters were at work, while the
sounds of the axe and saw echoed loudly
through the forest. As Augusta was passing
the men, who all gave her a polite greeting,
she observed a boy of about ten years old,
sitting on a heap of chips, and busily engaged
in making little cages of pieces of wood and
fine white willow rods. He was gayly whistling
over his work, but did not once look up as
Augusta’s red skirt brushed past him; his
shoes were torn, and the short jacket which he
wore was quite rusty and threadbare, but very
clean. Augusta was at once struck with his
likeness to one of the pictures in her fairy-
book, — that of little Jack, whom his father
sent into the wood because he had nothing for
AUGUSTA. 23

him to eat, and who there found a whole
house made of gingerbread. In a moment she
thought: “If we wanted to represent Jack
and Peggy, I could put the boy in the picture
just as he is; he looks very well with his true-
hearted face and curly brown hair, and then
his worn-out clothes seem as if they had only
been pe on in sport. I would like to know
who he is.’

As soon as she reached the seamstress’s
dwelling, she inquired concerning the little
boy, whom she was sure she had not seen the
day before.

“¢ He comes from Boberau once a week, Sat-
urday being the only day he has no school,”
said Louisa, in answer to the little girl’s ques-
tion. “His mother died a long time ago, and
the poor lad comes here to help his father carry
home his tools, and do anything else he can
to aid him.”

“That is all very good,” said oe “but
I do not like the kind of work he is doing now.
Why does he make cages to. catch the pretty
birds in? Can’t he hear them sing well enough
in the woods and fields ?”
24 AUGUSTA.

The seamstress opened the window and called
out: ‘ Johnny, bring me a handful of chips; I
want to heat an iron.”

The boy sprang up and brought her a good
armful, which he threw into the stove, laughing
as he said: “‘ There, I wish you would give me
something harder to do.”

“ Plenty of time yet for that,” said Louisa,
holding the boy (who was about running off
again to his work) fast by the arm. ‘ Stay here
a moment, you little whirlwind, and tell this
young lady why you make so many bird-cages.”

Johnny opened his eyes, now for the first
time aware of the presence of a strange child
in the room.

“Indeed,” said he finally, with a comical
sigh, ‘if I only knew how to make something
better, I would be the last to aid in catching
the gay little birds. I love them too dearly
for that; but then I love our schoolmaster
much more.”

“ But,” cried Augusta, “ does not your
schoolmaster forbid you to catch the poor lit-
tle creatures ?”

“He has not exactly forbidden it,” replied
AUGUSTA. 25

Johnny; “ but whether he would praise it or
not, I cannot conscientiously say. I do not
catch them myself, and in no case are we per-
mitted to touch bird’s-nests; but since I have

. grown a little more skilful in the manufacture

of my wares, I make quite a deal of money in
the city.”’

“ But what has the schoolmaster to do with
all that ?”’ asked the seamstress.

The boy blushed to the very roots of his
hair; he looked first upon the floor, then
toward the ceiling, and finally cast a longing
glance out of the little window toward the open
space, evidently showing that he would rather
be outside, seated upon his heap of chips, than
stay within talking and answering questions.
Seeing no escape, he replied: “If any other
person had asked me about my work, he would
have had to wait long enough for an answer;
but, as father says, you and your mother have
been so kind to us that you have a right to ask
from us whatever you will. Besides, you will
not tell it again, I am sure. Well, then, the
money for my cages— But indeed I would

rather not tell.”
3
26 AUGUSTA.

“Ah!” said Augusta, laughing, “I bet you
want it to buy gingerbread and fruit with.”

Johnny shook his head, while Louisa came
to his aid. “ You surely intend to give your
master, Mr. Feldmann, a pleasant surprise. I[-
know how dearly you love him, and he deserves
all you can do for him.” :

“ Yes indeed, that is true!’ cried the boy,
enthusiastically. “O, I love him so dearly,
and you cannot wonder that I should like to
give him a watch. I know he has long wished
for one. His sister’s son, Fred Volke, told me
so, and also that he had twice laid up the
money to buy it with; but the first time, the
great fire broke out at Pohlmuhl, and Mr.
Feldmann gave all his savings to the poor
houseless creatures, and the second time, An-
tony the watchman, who sings so beautifully
in the choir on Sundays, was taken ill, and
our good master sent to the city for a physi-
cian, and paid for all the expensive medicines
he was obliged to have. Now I can rest neither
day nor night until I can buy Mr. Feldmann a
timepiece, — not one like that hanging against
the wall, and not one of glass and sand, such
AUGUSTA. 27

as we use at school, but a real silver watch.
The Collector’s serving-men all have watches,
but I am afraid my dear master will have to
do without one all his life, unless I can earn
money enough to buy one for him.”

Augusta was a little girl, and little girls are
generally very curious, so she asked: “ Have
you saved much already?
a great deal,—a great many dollars.”

Johnny looked astounded. ‘“ A great many
dollars !”’ said he, slowly ; “‘ well, when I have
saved the first one, the rest will surely come
some time. ‘ Where doves are, doves come,’
says the proverb. Toward the first one I
have — let me see.”

The little lad unbuttoned his jacket; he
wore no vest, but round his neck was a piece
of red tape, to which was attached a leather
purse. Johnny counted out four shilling-pieces
and a few pennies, looking at them all the
while as proudly as if they were so many gold
eagles.

‘Before Christmas comes, I must surely
have one dollar complete,” said he, “and next
year I will be so much older and more skilful

a
28 AUGUSTA.

that I can make it grow much faster. O thou,
my kind Heavenly Father, do thou grant this
pleasure to me, and to my good master!”

Tears rushed to his eyes, and his voice trem-
bled as he uttered these last words. Passing
the back of his hand across his face, he thrust
the purse again under his jacket, and ran out
as if the ground were burning under his feet.

“Ts not Johnny a dear, good lad?” asked
the seamstress of Augusta, who had gone to
the window to look after him. ‘He has the
most grateful heart in the world.”

“But why is he so especially fond of his
master? His father is much poorer than Mr.
Feldmann; why does he not give him the
money for the cages?” asked Augusta.

“ Ah, that is a long story,” replied Louisa.
“Let us now sce about your costumes. Have
you brought the pictures ?”’

“But tell me all about it,’ begged the
child; “it will be four long weeks before my
birthday comes. I would like to know some-
thing more about the good boy who looks so
like Jack in my fairy-book, and whose name
is also John. I have just a half-hour to spare,
AUGUSTA. 29

and then I must go, and study my lessons for
Monday.”

“You see,” began the scamstress, ‘“ the
boy’s mother died a-long time ago, and the
father going off every day to his work, often in
a distant village, the child was left to the care
of an old deaf woman that lived in the same
house with the carpenter. She gave herself
but little trouble about the boy, merely dress-
ing him in the morning and giving him a bit
of bread or a couple of dry potatoes in sour
milk. Johnny sat the whole day long on a
sand-heap outside the door, while the old wo-
man span within; she could not hear the cry-
ing of the child when the poor little fellow
would be alarmed, sometimes by a big dog
passing on the wayside, or by a goose wad-
dling along with her unfledged young behind
her, and stretching out her neck at him with
an angry hiss. She did not see when a sud-
den rain fell and drenched the little boy to the
skin; every noon when she had given the
child his dinner, good or bad, as the case might
be, she sat him down again in the sand, say-

ing: ‘Stay here, Johnny, and wait till your
3%
30 AUGUSTA.

father comes.’ The poor little fellow had
often to wait long enough, and frequently be-
fore the father returned, late in the evening
from his work, the little eyes were closed in
sleep. The carpenter would then lift his child
from the ground and place him in his own bed,
but early the next morning would again be
forced to leave him before he awoke. Only on
Sundays could the little one sit on his father’s
knee, while the latter caressed him, combed
his hair, and told him all he knew himself
about God and Heaven (where his mother had
gone), about the animals that lived in the
woods and fields, and the great, great world
that existed beyond the little village where
they lived, containing many, many men, and
seas, and mountains. Johnny was inexpressi-
bly delighted with all such narrations; he
never asked for the white roll that his father
usually brought him, but always wanted to be
told some more. Sunday was a real holiday
for the little boy, and every evening he would
ask the old deaf woman: ‘ Will to-morrow be
Sunday?’ But she heard nothing, only gazed
fixedly at the spindle that was merrily dancing
through her fingers, and spoke not a word.

ca
AUGUSTA. 31

* As there was no one to talk to the child,
except the father, on Sundays, he was very
silent, and could say but few words. ‘Stupid
Johnny’ was the nickname bestowed upon
him by the village children, as they passed
the cottage on their way to school, and always
saw him sitting quietly, making sand-houses
and digging miniature ditches. He thus at-
tained the age of five. It is true he no longer
sat all day upon the sand before the cottage-
door, but played by the brook and beat the
hoop like other boys, still, however, continuing
shy and silent, and always when the older chil-
dren were passing to and from school, hiding
himself in the alder-grove behind the house.

“One day there came to Boberau a new
teacher, a young man whose heart was filled
with love for his noble calling, for the children
he was to instruct, and for all mankind. He
was poor, for in addition to his aged parents
who always lived with him, he supported an
invalid, widowed sister and her only son. No
one could be long in discovering that Mr. Feld-
mann was a real friend to children, for he
never failed to procure them a pleasure when
82 AUGUSTA.

it was in his power, and even their lessons
were made a delight to them. When new
scholars entered the school, they found the
room all hung with garlands, and master and
pupils in their Sunday clothes. At such times
Mr. Feldmann made them the most beautiful
and improving narrations, and all regarded
the day as a high festival. During the sum-
mer he employed the free afternoons in taking
long walks with the children, pointing out to
them the brook running near the village, ex-
plaining the difference between the various
kinds of watercourses, teaching them to know
the right bank from the left, telling them the
names of the flowers, of the birds and insects
that fluttered by the wayside, and repeating to
them short hymns of thanksgiving to God for
all the love and mercy shown in the exceeding
beauty of his creation. One day in particular
he prepared a new and especial pleasure for
them. He led them to a hill where all sorts
of arrangements had been made for their en-
tertainment. A painted board was fastened to
a tree-trunk, serving as a target, at which the
boys were to fire with their bow-guns, while a
AUGUSTA. 83

pile of hoops lay ready for the girls to trundle.
Mr. Feldmann had also brought with him a
vase, from which the children, seated according
to their places in school, each drew a number.
The prizes were but of small value, consisting
of pencils, pens, colored paper, a few small
books, penknives, etc., but the children were
highly delighted with their gifts, and said that
Christmas eve had come at midsummer.

“ Johnny stood by the cottage-door as the
long train of children passed on. What would
he not have given to have been among them!
He followed them at a distance through the
village, and, when they reached the hill, hid
himself behind a large rock. He could have
sat for days upon his hard seat, so deeply was
he interested in all he saw and heard: directly
beiow him was the joyous assemblage, and as
the master drew forth one pretty book after
another to give to the fortunate winners, he
involuntarily stretched out his little hand; but
no one saw the timid child, who was only
thinking whether those books told about the
same wonderful things that his father talked
of on Sundays. He did not envy the children
34 AUGUSTA.

the great basket of ripe cherries that was then
brought forward and distributed among them ;
all he desired was only once to hold such a lit-
tle book in his hand and examine it on every
side.

“ The evening wind began to blow coolly over
the tops of the hills, and the children, however
unwillingly, were obliged to commence their
homeward march. Johnny slipped unobserved
behind them ; he had lost his supper and left
his jacket at the cottage, but he felt neither
hunger nor cold. The boys had decorated
their bow-guns with oak-leaves, and the girls’
heads were crowned with wild-flowers, making
quite a triumphant appearance as they went
singing home. Suddenly Johnny saw lying
in the dust before him one of the pretty little
books. The light was fast fading away, but he
could still distinguish the gay, colors in the
binding. With a cry of joy he picked it up,
and carefully examined it ; but his next thought
was how sorry the child would be that had lost
it, and he ran as fast as he could after the
gay procession, holding the rent treasure
high over his head.
AUGUSTA. 35.

“<¢See! see! there comes Stupid Johnny! ’
cried one of the boys, laughing ; but the others
reproved him for calling such names, already
showing the good influence the master had
exercised among them. But even had they
all joined the cry, Johnny would not have
heeded them, for although he still feared the
big boys, he felt great confidence in the teacher,
and going up to him, he said, candidly: ‘I
have found this pretty book, and have brought
it to you.’

“¢ Would you not rather have kept it, little
one?’ asked Mr. Feldmann, gently stroking
the boy’s head.

“¢Q yes!’ replied the boy, ‘but it is not
mine.’

“¢ Well, then, I will give you just such a
one,’ said the master, smiling; ‘but can you
read it?’

“¢No, but I will learn right away,’ was the
innocent reply.

“ Mr. Feldmann lifted the little boy in his
arms and said: ‘That cannot be done in quite
such a hurry ; but come into the house with me,
and we will talk a little together.’
36 AUGUSTA.

“ Johnny followed the master into his room,
where a bright lamp was burning on the table,
which was covered with a white cloth, and
spread out with milk, bread, and cheese.

“The widow, followed by her son, entered the
room, and, giving her brother her hand, said :
‘Father and mother bade me tell you good
night for them; they were tired and have gone
to rest.’ She then took his hat and cane, and
placed an additional plate on the table for the
little guest that Mr. Feldmann had brought
with him.

“ Johnny stood as ina dream; the neat room
with its sanded floor, the black writing-table
with its piles of books, and the pretty walls,
against which hung a beautiful picture, — Christ
blessing little children, —were all like fairy-land
to the poor child, who had never seen the in-
side of any dwelling but his father’s, with its
unplastered walls, wooden benches, and rude
table. He was especially enchanted with the
mild light glimmering through the small
ground-glass shade. Mrs. Volke cut him a
large slice of bread, gave him a piece of cheese,
and poured him out a cupful of milk, mean-
AUGUSTA. 37

time talking with him so kindly that he forgot
both eating and drinking.

“ But he felt chiefly attracted toward the mas-
ter, who asked him about his father and mother
(as a stranger in the village he was, of course,
not aware of the child’s being an orphan,) and
then showed him some pretty colored prints
illustrative of Biblical history, —Adam and Eve
in Paradise, Noah’s Ark with the rainbow
above it, and David and Jonathan, that beau-
tiful type of manly friendship. The child lis-
tened breathlessly to the master, and while the
mild and gentle accents flowed from the lips of
that friend to children, Johnny’s heart opened
as a flower in the warm sunlight. He thought
that his mother in heaven must always feel just
as he then did, and he could hardly bear to
think of going back to the old deaf woman who
never had a kind word forhim. Mr. Feldmann
himself took the child home, and there asked
many questions about the father, who was now
absent on a distant piece of work, and would
not return until Sunday. ;

* Until that day came, Johnny sat nearly all

the time silently dreaming under the alders
4
38 AUGUSTA.

beside the brook, thinking over and over again
of all the good people had said to him. To-
ward evening he slipped away to the master’s
house, and, rising on tip-toe that he might look
within, he saw Mr. Feldmann sitting with his
sister and his aged parents, singing their even-
ing hymn: —

O Lord, protect me while I rest,

Be my slumbers by thee blest !

My body, soul, and life are thine ;
Graciously thine ear incline:

O list my fervent, humble prayer,
Asking thy protecting care!

Should’st thou another morning grant,
Thou wilt supply each needful want.’

“The child folded his hands and sank upon
his knees under the blooming linden as if he
had been in church. Ah! the happy children,
thought he, the happy children, that can go to
school, and see and hear dear Mr. Feldmann
every day. Johnny felt sure it would be a
long year yet before he would be sent to
school. As he afterwards lay in bed praying
for his father and the old deaf woman, he also
mentioned the name of his new friend, who
AUGUSTA. 39

soon after proved himself a friend indeed.
The next Sunday after church Mr. Feldmann
came to Johnny’s father and proposed that the
lad should stay with him, at least during the
daytime. ‘ Where five sit at table,’ said he,
good-naturedly, ‘there will also be room for
six, and as your boy seems to have so strong a
desire to learn and improve himself, he will
probably in time be a scholar of whom any one
might be proud.’

“The carpenter was of course very well
pleased with this proposition, and joyfully
thanked the kind master. But the boy, find-
ing his secret desires so suddenly and unex-
pectedly fulfilled, could not speak a word; he
was fairly dumb with excess of gratitude and
delight. From that day Johnny was in fact
Mr. Feldmann’s adopted son; the master not
only taught and fed him, but also clothed him
in the best of his own worn-out garments,
which the widowed sister neatly made over for
the child, until that sister’s illness and the old
parents’ increasing feebleness placed the mas-
ter in really distressing circumstances.

“The boy never slept out of Mr. Feldmann’s

e
40 AUGUSTA.

house except when his father had work in the
village, and on Sundays, when he spent the
whole day at home. On Saturday afternoons
he generally went to the place where his father
was working, and did all he could to aid him.
Mr. Feldmann became to him the visible repre-
sentative of God’s providence on earth, and as
he always knew how to satisfy the little lad’s
craving for knowledge, or turn it into some
new direction, Johnny now loves him with
such depth and strength that he would lay
down his life for his benefactor, who is to him
not only a teacher of the word of God, but a
self-sacrificing, cheerful doer of the same.

“TI only wish,” said the seamstress, in con-
clusion, “ that the good lad could really, some
day, be in a position to show Mr. Feldmann his
gratitude. As for the watch, that is only a
foolish, childish fancy of Johnny’s, which he
will surely never be able to carry into execu-
tion.”

“ But why not,” interrupted Augusta; “is
that indeed so impossible? Suppose I were to
give your little favorite the money, so that he
could buy the watch?”
AUGUSTA. 41

“O, my dear young lady,’’ cried Louisa, in
joyful surprise, “if you only would do so!
But I do not really know whether that would
not spoil the best part of Johnny’s pleasure, for
then it would not be he who had gratified his
master’s wish, but you.”

“T have thought of a way,’’ said Augusta,
who seemed quite enchanted with this new
project; “could I speak with the boy again?”

Louisa opened the window and called. John-
ny was not this time as prompt as he had been
before; he loitered on the way, and looked
rather distrustful as he finally entered the
room.

* Listen to me,” began Augusta; ‘ are there
any boys in your village that catch the birds
in the oak-woods belonging to my father?”

“T think there are,”’ replied Johnny, thought-
fully, “‘for they are the only woods within
many miles. But if it is not allowed, I will
tell our master, and he will only haye to say a
couple of words to the boys, and there will
never be another net or snare set in the for-
est.”

“Tt is not forbidden,” said Augusta, ‘“ but I
' 4% ‘
42 AUGUSTA.

love the birds so dearly that I do not like a
single one to be lured away. You might tell
your comrades, from me, that if they will let
the birds alone, I will invite them all to see
me on my birthday, and will do my best to
entertain them.”

“ Are you really in earnest?” asked John-
ny, laughing. “I can hardly think so! Our
wild school-boys go up to the manor!”

“ At least to the lawn behind the manor,”
said Augusta, who scarcely ventured to invite
a company of peasant-boys into her parents’
apartments without having first obtained their
permission. ‘ You must come too, and as I
shall not know what to do with so many wild
boys, the little girls at Boberau must accom-
pany you; there will be plenty of room for all.
And listen; we must also ask Mr. Feldmann,
for who but he could keep such a number of
children in order?”

“ Hurra! That will be delightful!” cried
Johnny, fairly jumping with joy. ‘ Will the
children from Brookside be also there?”

“Of course! But the condition of the invi-
tation is, that no more birds are to be caught
AUGUSTA. 43

in our woods. And now I must make a bar-
gain with you; you must not make any more
cages, no matter how skilful you become or
how well you are paid.”

“ But—” stammered Johnny, evidently dis-
concerted.

“Yes,” continued Augusta, very seriously,
“T have set my heart upon that. You will
lose the means of making a good profit, but
then, only think, your pretty cages are only
another inducement to people to catch the gay
little larks, finches, and yellowhammers, to
whom God himself gave the green trees and
beautiful groves as dwelling-places. Well, I
will buy from you all the cages that you might
make in, at least, several years from this time,
only with the difference that you must not
make the cages. Here is your pay now.”

Johany gazed half in affright at the broad
gold-piece which the young lady laid in his
sunburnt hand.

“O no,” he said, shaking his head, “ this
would buy our whole house, to say nothing of
a few cages. I know the coin well, and I
know that it is worth more than eleven dol-

lars.”’
aq
A4 AUGUSTA.

“Well, you would surely make that much
in the next three years by your skill and in-
dustry,” replied the little girl. “But if it
pleases you better, let our bargain be for the
next ten years. But now I cannot stay any
longer, I have my lessons to learn, and you
know that one does not like to grieve one’s
kind teacher by negligence.”

Thus saying, Augusta lifted the latch, and
calling out, “We will meet again on the
twenty-fifth of April,’ ran out of the house,
over the cleared space, to the park gate,
whence she again waved a smiling adieu.

_ Johnny threw his gold-piece up into the air,
and skilfully catching it again, cried out, while
the bright tears rolled down his cheeks: “‘ Now
I will buy Mr. Feldmann the finest watch I can
find in the city ; O, how I wish to-morrow were
Saturday again!”

“ But the first thing you want will be a new
jacket to go to the party in,” said the seam-
stress, smiling.

“T, a new jacket? It is scarcely a year
since Mr. Feldmann had this one made for
me out of one of his old coats,’ replied John-
AUGUSTA. 45

ny, almost angrily. ‘Do you think me a
prince ?”’

Louisa gave him a hearty kiss. “Go, then,
and follow the impulse of your own kind
heart,”’ said she, deeply moved, “for we read
in the Scripture: ‘ Withhold not good from
them to whom it is due, when it is in the
power of thine hand to do it.’”

A few days after the interview with Johnny,
Mr. Fabian told his wife that the horses could
be spared during the afternoon, and if she
wished to take a drive with Augusta, she could
do so.

“ Well, my child,” said the mother, “‘ we can
now attend to your little business in the city.
Get ready as fast as you can; I have only a few
words to say to the dairy-maid, and by the
time I have finished, the carriage will be
here.’

Augusta would willingly have asked her
mother to give up the drive to town, but did
not know how to do so without disclosing her
little secret. Since the day of her second visit
to the seamstress, Mrs. Fabian had said not a
46 AUGUSTA.

word more about the tableaux, and hence was
not aware that her daughter had made a more
sensible use of her money. As the carriage
came before Augusta had any opportunity of
telling her mother about Johnny and the gold-
piece, they were driving away among the fresh
green fields of spring-wheat ere the child could
unburden her mind of the little mystery that
weighed upon it.

“Mamma,” said she, finally, blushing and
laying her hand upon Mrs. Fabian’s arm, “had
you not better tell the coachman to turn round
and drive us through the birch wood? I do
not think the road to town is very pretty.”

“ But you have some purchases to make,”
replied the mother, ‘or have you thought of
something else?”

“Yes, dear mother!” cried Augusta, quite
delighted at the opening thus afforded her.
“There will be a great many tableaux to be
seen on my birthday, but only lively and mov-
ing ones, of happy peasant-boys and girls play-
ing on the lawn behind the manor; but
suppose it should snow or rain, where can I
take my guests? All the school children from
AUGUSTA. 47

Boberau and Brookside are to come. O mam-
ma, I am so glad! so glad!”

“Do you mean, then, to use your money in
giving a grand entertainment to the chil-
dren?” asked Mrs. Fabian, who was much
better pleased with this idea than with that of
haying tableaux out of the fairy-book.

This question caused all the sunshine to
vanish from the little girl’s face. She had
thoughtlessly invited so many guests without
remembering that she had given her money to
Johnny. Nothing now remained except to tell
her mother all that had occurred, and beg her
assistance. She found no difficulty in so do-
ing, as Mrs. Fabian could not conceal her
delight at Augusta’s altered resolution. She
tenderly embraced her daughter, and said: “I
am very well content with you, my dear child,
and I hope your little guests will be the same
with me.”

As Mrs. Fabian, finding that there was no
longer any necessity for going to town, ordered
the coachman to turn into the wood, a little
traveller appeared from behind the trees. He
was covered with dust and seemed very tired,
48 AUGUSTA.

but his face was fairly beaming with joy. Au-
gusta cast a hasty glance toward him, and then,
blushing and smiling, whispered to her mother:
“That is Johnny. I bet he has been to town
to buy the watch!”

And so indeed it was. The lad was not run-
ning in his usual fashion, but walked slowly
along, holding his left hand hidden under his
jacket as if carefully guarding a little bird or
some fragile, breakable article. He gave but a
single glance at the passing vehicle, and then
darted away across a ploughed field, singing so
loudly that he did not hear the call of Au-
gusta, who, having first obtained her mother’s
permission, was going to offer him a seat in
the carriage.

“Let him go his own way,” said Mrs. Fa-
bian ; “it ought not to seem as if you troubled
yourself much about him, but the boy will one
day understand that you only gave him the
gold-piece to procure him the pleasure of
showing his gratitude to his master.”

The carriage rolled away under the bare
trees, whose branches began to be tinged with
red and to assume that feathery appearance
AUGUSTA. 49

announcing the speedy arrival of the leaves.
The lark, that little gray bird that rejoices the
heart of the farmer while busy in his fields,
seemed never weary of singing as it rose ever
higher and higher through the clear and balmy
air.

“ Ah! if my birthday would only be as fine
as it is to-day!” cried Augusta, over and over
again, and, as a few days before, her every
spare thought had been devoted to the cos-
tumes for her tableaux, she could now think
of nothing but the entertainment to be given
to the village childen. She felt especially
pleased to think that she should see Mr.
Feldmann, the good master who had so thor-
oughly won the heart of the little boy.

As the longed-for day drew nigh, the mother
and daughter held many consultations togeth-
er, and had many preparations to make. Mrs.
Fabian herself wrote to the master at Boberau,
inviting him, with all his scholars, great and
small, to visit the manor on Augusta’s birth-
day, and heartily beseeching him not to spoil
their pleasure by a denial.

The twenty-fifth finally came. In the morn-
5
50 AUGUSTA.

ing the corner-stone of the new asylum was
laid, with the appropriate ceremonies, accom-
panied by prayer and praise; the village chil-
dren, clad in their holiday suits, adorned the
site of the building with branches of pine, and
then went in procession to meet the children
from Boberau, who, with their master at their
head, did not suffer themselves to be long
waited for.

Long tables were set in the great hall of the
manor-house, at which the children all par-
took of a plain but wholesome meal, and then
began the plays in the open air, where a bright-
er, warmer April sun never shone down on a
happier set of childen.

When, toward the close of the day, Mr.
Feldmann took out a pretty silver watch, and
gently reminded his scholars that it was time
to think of going home, Augusta’s smiling
glance fell upon Johnny, (who, even while
playing, had all day kept quite near his be-
loved master,) and she could not but observe
how proudly the boy looked round upon the
assemblage, as if to say, ‘“‘ Do you all see that
Mr. Feldmann has a watch as well as other
people ?”’
AUGUSTA. 51

Mrs. Fabian had embraced the opportunity
of having a long talk with the master from
Boberau, and the consequence was, that, after
consulting her husband, she wrote to Mr. Feld-
mann, and begged him to give her daughter an
hour’s instruction three times in the week, for
which purpose Mr. Fabian’s horses were sent
tri-weekly to Boberau. Augusta soon loved
the good master almost as well as Johnny did,
and one day when speaking of this to her
mother, the latter said: ‘You see, my child,
what your little self-sacrifice has already done
for you. Every deed of love toward our fel-
low-creatures is a seed sown in the furrow of
time, which, with God’s blessing, may yield a
thousand-fold.”

Since the time when that unexpected letter
from the grandmother had thrown Augusta
into such a state of excitement, more than ten
years had passed away. The little girl had
grown into a charming young maiden, the joy
and delight of her parents. She had been for
the last three years at an excellent institution
for education, and was just now returning from
52 AUGUSTA.

a long pleasure tour taken with her grand-
mother. The road home led through Boberau,
and when the first scattered houses met her
view, she thought at once of Mr. Feldmann,
who had, meantime, received an appointment
as head of a large school elsewhere. She beg-
ged her grandmother to let the coachman
drive past the master’s old dwelling, so that
she might once more see the little garden and
arbor where she had often sat with her beloved
teacher, studying natural history; for, having
once obtained her parents’ permission to go to
Boberau on foot, she had been so delighted
with all she had seen, so attracted by the
peace and contentment reigning amid such
utter simplicity, even poverty, that the visit
was often repeated, and never without profit
to herself.

The garden was unchanged, except that the
splendid yellow rose, now in full bloom, had
grown somewhat aged, the vine had been blown
off one side of the arbor, and the pretty cedar-
tree, of whose branches Augusta had once de-
lighted to make wreaths for the picture, in the
parlor, of our Lord blessing the children, was
AUGUSTA. 53

all withered and dried up. The square before
the church seemed to be the scene of some
unusual commotion; strange workmen were
apparently busied upon the church-tower, and
at a little distance stood the old carpenter,
Johnny’s father, whom the young girl recog-
nized immediately, although his hair had grown
snow-white since she had last seen him. He
wore no working blouse, and carried no tools,
but was gazing intently at the tower. Ata
sign from Augusta the carriage stopped, and
she asked what they were doing to the old
church.

“They are putting a clock in the tower,’
was the reply, while a smile, at once proud
and happy, passed across the speaker’s sun-
burnt face. ‘Look, there comes the young
master who has executed the work; he is
from Boberau, and — though perhaps I should
not mention it—-my only son.”

Augusta leaned out of the window. There,
in fact, stood Johnny, with his sensible, candid
countenance ; but the poor lad had become a
tall man, who had probably forgotten all about

the foolish little girl that insisted upon his
5%
54 AUGUSTA.

never making any more bird-cages. She an-
swered his polite salutation by a pleasant
smile, and the impatient horses trotted on.

But Augusta was not satisfied with merely
knowing that the little boy had become a tall
man; she wanted to know more about his life
and career, and, embracing the first convenient
opportunity, crossed the park, at that season
in the full beauty of its luxuriant foliage, and
went to the little dwelling where still lived the
seamstress, now quite alone.

The first thing that met her glance as she
crossed the threshold was a beautiful time-
piece, standing on a wooden bracket, in the
very spot whence the old-fashioned clock had
vanished. Its silvery bell was just sounding
ten o’clock as Augusta entered. After the
first greetings were over, she smilingly looked
toward the new clock, and said, “I think I
know who’s work that is.”

“Yes, indeed; Johnny has grown up into a
good man and an excellent clockmaker,” said
Louisa, with evident pride and delight; “ his
old father leads a happy life, and Mr. Feld-
mann’s sister lives with them to keep house.
AUGUSTA. 55

Her health is better than it used to be, but she
has grown quieter than ever, since her only son
died of the small-pox. Johnny lets neither of
them want for anything, and the old man may
well be proud of such a son. But, Miss Fa-
bian, next to God, he has to thank you for all
that. Do you remember when you gave him
a gold-piece to buy a watch for Mr. Feldmann?
Well, Providence guided him most singularly.
He went to town to buy the watch, and chanced
upon a most excellent-hearted watchmaker,
who did not rest until he had made all sorts of
inquiries about the lad, and satisfied himself as
to how so young a boy could buy a watch and
have a gold-piece to pay for it with. From
that time he never lost sight of Johnny. He
came occasionally to Boberau to inquire wheth-
er the watch kept good time, and always saw
as much of Johnny as he possibly could. The
lad, on his side, took a great fancy to the skil-
ful artificer.

“ When Johnny was confirmed, Mr. Wilden-
berg — for that was the watchmaker’s name —
sent him a bran-new suit of clothes, and then
came himself, to ask if he would not like to
learn his trade.
56 AUGUSTA.

“The offer made the lad very happy ; for he
had gone Saturday after Saturday to the city,
and had always watched with pleasure the pro-
ceedings of the master and his assistants, —
himself aiding in cleaning up old wheel-work,
or in doing anything else they would trust him
with. Idleness had never been one of Johnny’s
failings. Mr. Wildenberg asked no entrance-
money ; and as he was rich and childless,
promised to provide all necessary clothing.
When the young apprentice became a jour-
neyman, his master sent him to Geneva, or
some such place in Switzerland, where I be-
lieve the best watches are made. And so poor
Johnny became a worthy and skilful artisan,
inheriting all his master’s business and knowl-
edge, and much more beside. But he is not
the least proud ; he comes once every year to
visit Brookside, and I must always make him
a dish of broth such as my dear mother used
to give the carpenters. As long as the old
clock would go, he took the greatest pains to
keep it in order, — for he well knew how my
heart clung to all remembrances of former
times ; but at last even his skill could do
AUGUSTA. 57

nothing more for it, and one day, when I came
home from church, I found that pretty, neat
little timepiece on the bracket against the
wall.

« And we often talk about you, Miss Fabian,
when Johnny is here; he knows quite well
now, that all that about the birds was only a
pretext to induce him to take the money with-
out feeling it a mere gift. He often says:
‘God bless the young lady; without her com-
passionate sympathy, I should now probably be
nothing but a day-laborer, and able to do little
or nothing for my aged father.’ But Johnny
does not care only for his father and the
widow. Whenever the poor need his aid, he is
always ready to help them; and many are the
unfortunate in our own village whom he has
assisted through their troubles.”

Augusta stood by the window with stream-
ing eyes, and bent over the tall rosemary bush
— standing there as of old — to conceal her
emotion.

““ My good Louisa,” said she, finally, “ nei-
ther you nor the skilful young watchmaker are
right in ascribing to me the chief share in the

%
58 AUGUSTA.

deed, which, under God’s merciful guidance,
has had such wonderful consequences. If even
the least deed done through charity is seed
sown in the furrows of time to bring forth a
thousand-fold, then to your mother must be
given the honor you have so generously be-
stowed upon me. Her ‘ widow’s mite,’ as she
herself called it, excited my emulation; and
without her good thought of giving the poor
laborers something warm to eat, I should never
have known Johnny, and could never have
learned his story from you.
‘Thou canst to smallest deed of love
The greatest blessing give ;

O therefore, for my brother’s good,
Grant, Lord, that I may live!’ ”
n
i
A
a
0
n



CHRISTMAS EVE.

i

Tue Christmas Fair was drawing to a close.
While the large stores of the city were crowded
with persons still having purchases to make,
the keepers of the small booths on the market-
place had already begun to pack away the cakes,
candies, wax-figures, tapers, and endless hosts
of dolls yet remaining unsold. The sun had
set, and the buyers were hastening home to ar-
range the Christmas-tree for their little ones ;
here and there a poor mother would be bar-
gaining for a wooden doll or some candy
figures for her child, and obtain them at half
price merely because the ground, in spite of
the freezing cold, burned beneath the feet of
the seller, who was also longing to return to
her humble dwelling, where so many little

preparations and tender cares awaited her.

6
a
62 CHRISTMAS EVE.

The organ-grinder went moodily home, be-
cause, amid the universal hurry and confusion,
his music had obtained but slight notice and
slighter remuneration, not even a single street-
boy having been found to run after the organ-
man. The poorest among them had now full
occupation in enjoying the pleasures intended
for the children of the rich. Most minute was
the observation and intense the admiration
bestowed upon the various beautiful objects
exposed for sale. It is doubtful whether their
enjoyment could have been really greater had
they actually been possessed of those attractive
but perishable articles. In all probability, the
brilliant colors and fanciful forms, which had
at first attracted their gaze, would soon have
faded into the ordinary hues and common-
place shapes of every-day life. But, as it was,
these poor children, when at night they had
gone early to bed to keep warm, talked long
over the beautiful picture-books, the tin sol-
diers, the wooden horses, and the cuckoo with
real feathers that cried “Cuckoo!” when its
back was stroked. These wonders afforded
matter for conversation during the whole
CHRISTMAS EVE. 63

winter, and even until the earliest cherry-trees
blossomed. The pretty things were still fresh
in their memories when the actual tin soldiers
that had so enchanted them were disabled in
arm or leg, shorn of their weapons, or lying
decapitated in their broken boxes, when the
populous farmyard could boast of but a couple
of three-legged lambs or a hornless goat, when
the cuckoo no longer cried, the hobby-horse
had lost his skin, and the gayly-dressed doll,
with the little gold watch in its belt, looked
sadly like poor Cinderilla in the fairy-tale.
The children of the poor still enjoyed the mem-
ory of all these pretty things when the actual
receivers were perhaps surveying with disgust
their unsightly fragments, and wishing for an-
other Christmas to bring them a fresh supply.
In the counting-room of Mr. Hollmer, Coun-
sellor of Commerce, the book-keeper and a
young clerk were working away very busily
and very silently. The noises from the street
did not reach the dark, vaulted room in which
they sat, where the windows were all shut in
by iron bars, and the only prospect was upon
a court-yard, a carriage-house, and a stable.

*
66 CHRISTMAS EVE.

the pretty chased silver box as if it could have
felt the gentle caress, and then opened the lid
with the pleasant anticipations an habitual
taker of snuff would experience under similar
circumstances; but the box contained only a
neatly folded package of bank-notes, and the
fat angels of the vignettes seemed to have
blown out their checks especially to trumpet
forth Falkner’s unhoped-for happiness. At the
first moment, the good old man was quite dis-
appointed, that, instead of the fine “ Prince
Regent” usually taken by his employer, he
had only found a parcel of printed paper, but
the next instant he felt his eyes grow dim, and
passed his oil-cloth sleeve across his spectacles
as if to ascertain if they had left their post or
refused to fulfil their office. But the cause of
his momentary blindness lay deeper, for his
eyes were filled with tears springing from grat-
itude and heartfelt emotion. For once in his
life, he was rich enough to give with full
hands a pleasure he had always coveted, but
never before had been able to enjoy, as, al-
though his salary was a liberal one, he had to
provide for a sickly wife and a crippled brother-
in-law.
veterans ea
aa ‘

’
enero



SUR er Olt eal DE.



CHRISTMAS EVE.
CHRISTMAS EVE. 67

Falkner hastened out of the gloomy count.
ing-room to go to the market-place, now nearly
deserted, and buy whatever he fancied, with-
out those depressing restrictions on his gen-
erosity which had always hitherto tormented
him. He was so eager that he would have
gone out without having taken off his oil-
cloth shield, had not the younger clerk, to
his great confusion, made him aware of the
oversight.

When out in the street, he was met by a
boy with a Christmas-tree in his hands.

“Dear, kind sir,” said the boy, “do buy
my Christmas-tree. I would so like to go
home to mother and sister; this is the last I
have, and only see what a pretty one it is!”

Falkner could not have had the heart to dis-
appoint a request so urged ; he paid double the
price asked, and walked away as if he had
made the most important purchase in the
whole world. Some wax tapers and a paper
full of sugar figures were the next articles
bought, for they of course were necessary to
the adornment of the fragrant fir-tree, and
even if he had no children to enjoy the pretty
68 CHRISTMAS EVE.

sight, he thought: “By the aid of so many
lights my good old wife can so much the bet-
ter see to read in her new hymn-book, and
some hungry mouth can surely be found to
devour the sugar hearts, doves, and lambs.”

As he walked along, he saw, at the corner
of the street, Otto, the lamplighter, and his
little daughter Mary, who, with her hands
thrust under her kerchief, watched her father
as he filled the lamp with oil. The child had
no mother, and hence scarcely knew how a
Christmas-tree looked. Falkner knew the
lamplighter, whose dwelling was in the same
street as his own, to be a very needy, but a
very worthy man, and rejoiced that he had
met him and his child at the very moment
when he was able to give them a pleasure.

“ Will you go home with me and help me
carry my paper parcels?’ asked he of the
little girl. “ When your father has finished
lighting his lamps, he will come to our house
for you, and help us eat our supper of carp
and potatoes; my good wife is a most excellent
cook, and I am sure you will enjoy her savory
dishes.”
CHRISTMAS EVE. 69

The lamplighter could scarcely believe his
own ears. Looking down at his greasy jacket,
he said: “I am not fit to go, but I would like
my little girl to enjoy herself, and our merci-
ful Lord in heaven will bless you, sir, for your
kind thought.”

“ But why will you not go to the kind old
gentleman’s house?” asked the child, who
saw nothing amiss in her father’s oil-stained
jacket and battered hat. ‘“ You need only
take off your woollen muffler and wash your
hands at the pump.”

The father could not resist his child’s plead-
_ ing look, and nodded a smiling assent.

On his way home, Falkner bought a little
doll, and hid it in the breast-pocket of his over-
coat. A few steps farther on, he gave the
young lady a companion in the shape of a gi-
gantic gingerbread man, whose pointed hat
reached up to the top of his collar. Thus
laden, and carrying under his arm the tree,
whose branches nodded and rustled at every
step, as if it knew it was destined to bear a
distinguished part in the execution of a bril-

fiant idea, Falkner went up three steps into
%
70 CHRISTMAS EVE.

his pretty little house, and, crossing the nicely
sanded hall, entered a room from which issued
a most inviting and savory smell.

“Mother!” cried he to his wife, who stood
busily engaged before the stove, ‘see what I
have brought you; all the materials for a most
delightful Christmas eve.”’ So saying, he placed
the little green fir-tree upon a side table, care-
fully removing a great bunch of wax-flowers,
which dated from his wife’s girlhood, to make
way for his various packages. ‘‘ While I ar-
range matters here, do you prepare supper
enough for a couple of guests, this child and
a grown person who will come by and by,’
said he, rubbing his hands with pleasure and
drawing the child nearer the warm stove.

“Husband!” said Mrs. Falkner, coming to-
wards him and looking anxiously into his face.
“What is the matter? Are you mad, or have
you been drinking? A Christmas-tree! Have
you become a child again?”

*¢¢ Unless ye become as little children, ye can-
not enter into the kingdom of heaven,’ ”’ replied
the book-keeper, thus gently striving to avert
the coming storm. But he was not to escape so
CHRISTMAS EVE. 71

easily. His wife looked first at the child, and
then at the table, near which Mr. Falkner
stood adorning the tree with the various ar-
ticles he had brought home with him,—col-
ored tapers, sugar lambs with red ribbons
round their necks, doves with red heads and
tails, storks with red bills, hearts with red
darts inflicting crimson wounds, and rosy
lyres with golden strings. Finally, her eyes
fell upon the doll as her husband took it from
one pocket, and then upon the giant ginger-
bread on the opposite side. Her patience gave
way, and she broke forth into angry expostu-
lation. ‘‘ Have I then done without everything
J wanted, and baked no Christmas cakes, only
that you might squander the money upon such
useless things? And surely not for my sake!
I am past the years when one takes pleasure
in such things ;— no, indeed, you did not do
it for me, but for the first little beggar child
you met in the street. And just now to make
such senseless purchases, when the New Year
is at hand, and the rent and the apothecary’s
bill are to be paid. Our wood, too, is nearly
out, and the barber will look for a New-Year’s

%
72 CHRISTMAS EVE.

gift. Where do you expect te get all the
money from, old man, if you spend the little
you have so recklessly ?”

“Do not make my head ache, and yourself
out worse than you really are,’’ said Falkner,
soothingly. ‘I have received an extra supply
of money, and am going to have an extra de
gree of pleasure. Christmas comes but onc¢
a year.”

“Well for us it does, if you are often to
take such fancies!” said the wife, wringing her
hands. ‘Did ever one see such doings? A
steady, sensible man, who meets with an unex-
pected piece of good luck, thinks first of his
old age, and lays something aside to keep him
when he can no longer work. ‘ Who saves, in-
deed, can spend in need!’ But you were al-
ways just the same, always content to live on,
thinking only of the present day, and so, I
suppose, you will be to the end of time, let me
say what I may.”

A flood of tears here choked her utterance.
The book-keeper laid his hand upon her arm,
and said: “ Do not spoil my pleasure, mother.
In my gloomy office I but seldom see a ray
CHRISTMAS EVE. 73

of sunlight, and still more seldom a beaming
human countenance. This child has no mother
to dress a Christmas-tree for her, and so, for
once, I will play the part of one to her. Our
Lord and Master loved children very dearly,
and, as it is not often in our power to feed the
hungry, to visit the sick, or free the captive,
let us at least, in the person of this child, love
Him who has so loved us; else we can have
no share in the joy of this holy and beautiful
Christmas festival!”

*Do you mean to say that I am not a good
Christian,’”’ sobbed the wife, ‘because I give
you good advice, and take care that you do
not make a beggar of yourself? Who does
my saving benefit but you; for if these eyes,
from which you are wringing such bitter tears,
were closed in death, what would become of
you? You would be a ruined man, with
nothing in your home but empty tables and
cupboards, perhaps even tormented with un-
paid bills; while now, I attend to everything
so carefully, for your sake saving all I can, for
you who give me so little thanks, and even re-

proach me with that very saving.”
7
74 CHRISTMAS EVE.

The book-keeper knew from long experience
that any reply would only open the way for a
more copious stream of words, and hence was
silent while he drew from his pocket a strip of
gilt paper to ornament a handful of apples he
had bought on the way home. For this pur-
pose, however, he needed a little white of egg,
and hence was forced to ask his wife — the
key of the cupboard.

“An egg!” cried she, with a look of amaze-
ment at this new and unprecedented piece of
extravagance, — “an egg! Do you think I can
afford to buy eggs when they are twenty-four
cents a dozen? Have you suddenly become a
rich merchant, or have you drawn the great
prize in the lottery? If I were to buy eggs
when I have scarcely enough to pay for pota-
toes, I—I—”

Mrs. Falkner stopped for want of words ade-
quate to the expression of her indignation.
The apples were forced to remain ungilded,
but they did not look the less pretty with their
rosy cheeks among the green branches of the
Christmas-tree. Mary was then asked to assist
in lighting the tapers. How her eyes shone,
CHRISTMAS EVE. 75

and how careful she was not to touch any of
the pretty sugar figures with her little frozen
fingers. Never in all her life had she seen
anything half so beautiful.

Mrs. Falkner in her ill-humor over-salted
the fine mealy potatoes, clattered the knives
and forks, upset the tongs, and made a terrible
fuss sweeping up a couple of chips that had
fallen out upon the hearth. She did not wish
to be the first to speak again, and her husband
worked away adorning the Christmas-tree as if
he and the strange child had been the only per-
sons in the room.

Finally, the tapers were all lighted. Little
Mary clapped her hands and cried aloud with
delight. The neat little room looked bright as
day, and Mrs. Falkner could not avoid turning
her bead to see whence the illumination pro-
ceeded. But did she see aright? Was there
not a handsome hymn-book, bound in black,
lying open under the Christmas-tree, and near
it a pair of nice, warm gloves? These surely
could not be intended for the child. Her hus-
band held out both his hands toward her, and
said, with a good-natured smile: ‘ Come,

4
76 CHRISTMAS EVE.

mother, come and see what the Christ-child
has brought for you: ‘ A little with love’ must
be our motto. Try and see if you can read
better in the new book than in the old!”
Thus saying, he drew the still feebly resist-
ing old woman nearer to the table, and, laying
his hand upon her shoulder, held her fast while
she bent over the book, and her eyes fell upon
the following lines of a Christmas hymn : —

“ Thy silken bed and velvet robes
Are straw and swaddling bands alone,
Whereon a king, thou, rich and great,
Dost lie, as ’t were thy heavenly throne.

“ And thus hast thou been pleased to do,
The blessed truth to show to me,
That worldly honor, wealth, and might
Are nothing worth, compared with thee.”

Mrs. Falkner’s heart softened when she saw
how unjust she had been; she was ashamed of
her fears concerning the future; for could not
He who had sent his only Son into the world
to save sinners, also in his own good time send
his creatures all they needed? ‘ Seek first
the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and
all these things shall be added unto you,” says
CHRISTMAS EVE. adi

the Scripture; and in another place: “The
Lord loveth a cheerful giver.”

But Mrs. Falkner’s excessive economy had
prevented her ever availing herself of any op-
portunity of doing charitable deeds, and hence
she had never known the joy of giving. What
was it that now struck upon her heart and
made her feel that her husband was quite right
when he said: ‘“ This beautiful Christmas fes-
tival should not pass to you without pleasure
and gifts, even if we have no children to en-
joy it.”

What memory was it that filled her eyes
with tears. Did she think of a fair little head
laid years before in the silent grave? Sud-
denly leaving her husband’s side, she opened
the door of her neatly kept cupboard and took
out a small, warm shawl. Hanging it upon
the tree, she smiled as she said: ‘‘ The Christ-
mas-tree must have a pretty shawl, and who-
ever is to take off the sugar-candics must also
take the shawl.”

Great was the joy of the child! Meantime,
the door opened and the lamplighter stood,
hat in hand, upon the threshold. The old hat

7%

%
78 CHRISTMAS EVE.

looked greasier than ever, but it soon slipped
upon the floor, for when Otto saw what had
been done for his child, he folded his hands to-
gether and thanked God, who had made the
Christmas festival a season of rejoicing for both
rich and poor.

Had not the fish been in danger of burning,
and the potatoes of over boiling, the good
housewife would long have remained standing
before the Christmas-tree reading in her new
hymn-book. The words of the various hymns
seemed suddenly to have acquired a new and
deeper significance ; could this have been only
because the print was larger ?

The little table was soon set, and drawn up
close to the tree, so that the tapers might cast
as brilliant a light as possible over the social
board. The retiring lamplighter, in spite of
his reluctance, was forced to sit down. Little
Mary peeled his potatoes for him, and the mis-
tress of the house, divining his excellent appe-
tite, set before him a whole mountain of sour-
kraut. Such fish, with such sauce, neither
father nor daughter had ever tasted before.
Mrs. Falkner brought up a bottle of beer from
CHRISTMAS EVE. “9

the cellar and poured out the first glassful for
the lamplighter. They were a happy party.

When supper was over, and the good house-
wife went to remove the dishes from the table,
she found under her plate a roll of bank-notes,
the remainder of the Counsellor’s munificent
gift, which her husband had slyly slipped un-
der her plate. Although deeply grateful, she
felt none of that covetous joy she might have
experienced a few hours before.

« And thus hast Thou been pleased to do,
The blessed truth to show to me,
That worldly honor, wealth, and might
Are nothing worth, compared with Thee.”
80 CHRISTMAS EVE.

ee

_ Aw old soldier, with a barrel-organ on his
back, came, grumbling, down into the poor
cellar which was now his only home. His
wife was peeling potatoes, and looked very
happy; for was not this the eve of Christmas,
and had not the wife of the hatter, who lived
on the floor above, given her some lard she
had left from making crullers, and could she
not, hence, this evening regale her dear ones
with fried potatoes, and was not the little
coffee-pot merrily singing on the stove in
honor of the season, and its own unwonted
contents ?

The husband and wife stood face to face;
he ill-tempered and gloomy, and she with
her kind, contented countenance. ‘“ Rose,
where is Lizzy?” asked the man, placing the
CHRISTMAS EVE. 81

organ upon a high chest, and throwing off
the leather strap by which he carried it.

“Gone to the church, where there is a dis-
tribution to the poor,’ replied Rose; “but I
expect her home every moment, she will be
in such haste to show her Christmas gifts! I
am right curious to know what she will bring
home.”

“Nothing worth speaking of,” said the old
soldier, shortly ; “‘a handkerchief, an old pair
of shoes not worth mending, or, at best, a worn-
out dress that in a day or two will be too short
and too narrow. Of such distributions one
may always say, ‘ Great cry and little wool!’ ”

“ But, father, why are you so discontented
to-day? You know that the poor children are
always becoming more numerous, and in these
hard times even the most generous have little
to give.”

The old man gloomily shook his head.
“When one sees the people buying eatables
and clothes and playthings for young and
old, one does not think much about the hard
times,” said he. “I just now met the brewer
Lehmann’s servant coming from the express-
82 CHRISTMAS EVE.

office with a curious package,— a sort of can-
vas bag, from one side of which hung a pair
of birds’ heads, and from the other a couple
of bunches of the prettiest feathers you almost
ever saw. The servant called the creatures
pheasants, and the rich brewer had sent all
the way to Bohemia for them, only to add
another dainty to his Christmas dinner. You
know Lehmann and I were boys together. My
father, the gardener, often gaye him, a poor
little barefooted lad, a handful of apples. Well,
what do you think he gave me to-day, when I
played before his door? A penny! Ho, ho,
ho, I say for your rich folks!”

With a bitter laugh, the old soldier flung
himself upon the bench that ran round the
cellar wall, and supplied the place of chairs or
stools to the poor inmates.

“Father,” said the wife, handing him his
old house-jacket, that he might save his worn-
out coat as much as possible, and assisting
him to make the exchange without straining his
wounded arm, —‘“ Father, the rich have their
cares and sorrows as well as we; indeed, often
more severe ones than ours. Only think what
CHRISTMAS EVE. 83
















serable time Mr. Lehmann has with his
hter, who is getting a cataract on her eye.
ald you change with him, husband? Surely
! Let us leave the rich their dainties;
can only eat until they are satisfied, and
de the same with our turnips and
oes. Is it not much better they should
money among the people than
d be shut up in strong boxes,
do no good to any one? Our
both rich and poor, and so it must
. But, hark! there is Lizzy. How
uns down the dark stairway!” :
ment after, a little girl of from nine
ears old entered the room. She carried
ndle of clothes under her arm, and held
her head a great brown Christmas
id a large gingerbread.
her! father!’ cried she, quite out of
“O, I have gotten so much, so very
A warm dress, quite new, and a pair
-soled shoes. Here is some woollen
-me to knit you each a pair of stock-
d then the cake,—that will last us
the holidays are over!”
84 CHRISTMAS EVE.

Rose glanced at her husband, as if to say:
“See how unjust you were.”

“Did all the children. get as much as you?”
asked the father, merely for the sake of saying
something, and also feeling somewhat ashamed
of his previous ill-humor.

“Ono!” replied Lizzy. ‘‘ When the pastor
distributed the things, he said that God would
this time lay some especial blessing on the
gifts because they were so much fewer than
usual. The universal scarcity of money was
felt even by the most wealthy, and just at pres-
ent they were called upon to contribute to so
many charities they could not have much to
give to cach one. There were families that
had been burnt out, and whole districts that
had been flooded, asking for aid; hospitals
were to be built, and churches finished. There
was no end to the demands for assistance, and
hence the smallest gifts should be received with
gratitude to God and to the givers: and so they
were. I was coming home quite delighted with
my shoes and my gingerbread. As I passed by
the pretty house where that noble-looking lady
lives that once gave father a half-dollar for
playing our national airs under her window,
CHRISTMAS EVE. 85

I observed that the shutters were open, and I
looked up, hoping to see a Christmas-tree. A
bright light streamed through the window-
panes, but, as I afterwards found, it all came
from the chandelier. The lady, dressed in a
black silk gown and a snow-white cap, exactly
as she was on the day when she threw father
the silver-piece, stood near the window. I
made a courtesy, and you may think how sur-
prised I was when she beckoned to me with
her hand. I stood a moment doubtful whether
the sign could have been meant for me, when
the hall-door opened, and an old servant came
out and said he had been sent to take me up
to his mistress, the General’s lady, as he called
her. I followed him up stairs to a room with
a great many pictures hanging on the walls,
chiefly portraits of officers in uniform. There
was one among them which especially pleased
me: it represented quite a young man, with
cheeks as red as roses. He had a kind of steel
yest upon his breast, and beside him lay a
sword, and a helmet with a nodding plume.
‘That looks just like a hero, as I have heard

my father describe one,’ said I, half aloud.
8
86 CHRISTMAS EVE.

“¢ Yes, and like a hero he fell, fighting for
his king and his country,’ said a gentle voice
behind me. I turned, and for the first time
was aware that the strange lady was also in
the room. I was a little startled, but I had
said nothing amiss; and it soon struck me how
very much she resembled the picture of the
young soldier: the eyes and nose were exactly
the same.

*¢¢ Well, my dear child,’ said she, smiling,
but so mournfully that one felt at once she
must have known some great sorrow, ‘I have
never dressed a Christmas-tree since — since
God took away my only child, but every heart
must feel the influence of this holy season;
even the heart of a mother, sorrowing over the
wreck of her earthly happiness, finds consola-
tion in the thought that Christ was born to
take away the horror from death, and to bring
the blessing of immortal happiness to his chil-
dren, whom he will reunite in a better world.
I have but few earthly pleasures left me, but
would like to-day to bestow as much happiness
on others as I possibly can.’ So saying, she
gave me this warm dress, this yarn, and this
CHRISTMAS EVE. 87

nice cake, besides which she put in my hand
a little roll of money for my father and mother,
about whom she asked me many questions, and
then with folded hands stood near the table and
watched me while I counted over the money,
piece by piece, and tried in vain to express my
gratitude and delight. But I soon became im-
patient to run home and show all my pretty
things. mere

“¢ Your father can come to me once every
month, and I will always have something for
him,’ said the lady, as I kissed her hand and
bade her farewell. I left the room as if ina
dream, and the last thing I remember is, see-
ing the lady stand before the picture, gazing at
it with tears in her eyes. O, if I could only in
any way have consoled that poor lady! The
old servant stood ready to open the hall-door.
‘Ycu are the twelfth child my lady has called
in to-day, and all have received as much as
you,’ said he, with a friendly nod. ‘Ah yes,
she knows how to soothe her own sorrow by
doing good to all around her. May God bless
and comfort her!’ ”

“The poor, good lady!” said mother Rose,

a
88 CHRISTMAS EVE.

wiping her eyes with the corner of her necker-
chief. ‘To lose her only child, a son who was
probably the delight of her heart! How hard
that must have been!”

Thus saying, she pressed Lizzy’s head to her
bosom, as if to express her joy and gratitude
that the darling of her own heart was still left
to bless and comfort her.

The old soldier had stepped to the window,
and seemed to be looking out upon the bright
stars shining in the cloudless sky. He had
taken off his cap, and his lips were moving in
silent prayer. ‘ My God, forgive my murmur-
ing! And the poor, rich lady, who suffers from
no want of earthly goods, and yet is so much
more unfortunate than we who are so poor in
all the world calls wealth,—bless her with
thy grace, and grant her thy heavenly con-
solation ! ””
CHRISTMAS EVE, 89

Til.

THE evening service was over.
people streamed out of the village church.
The snow crackled under the hurried foot-
steps with which they hastened to their homes.
A pillar of smoke rose from every chimney,
and lights already shone in many a window.
For a few moments the church windows
gleamed with the bright lamps within, but
they were soon extinguished, and the little
building stood dark and lonely among the
snow-covered graves. The children, who had
each brought a lighted taper to the church to
add to the general illumination, ran home as
fast as they could, for the Christmas-trees
were now to be lighted, and the long-expect-
ed presents to be given.

Mr. Miiller, the schoolmaster, had scarcely
8*
%
90 CHRISTMAS EVE.

time to take off his overcoat, for his three boys
were hanging round him in a state of great
excitement, anxiously awaiting the moment
when the bell was to ring, and they were to
storm the sitting-room, which had been shut
up ever since dinner.

“Ts your old nurse, Anna, here yet?” asked
Mr. Miiller, looking round the dimly-lighted
room. “As she has come to live in our vil-
lage, she must not fail to spend her Christmas
eve with us. You did not forget to go for her,
did you, children?”

The boys looked at each other in blank dis-
may ; in the anticipation of the coming pleas-
ure, they had, indeed, forgotten her. George,
the eldest, ran off quite ashamed, and, in his
eagerness to atone for his neglect, did not
heed the keen wind that blew the drifting
snow into his face, and reddened his aching
hands.

“Dear Anna,” cried he, as soon as he
reached the entry of the little cottage, “ you
must come up to father’s with me, or else
we cannot enjoy our Christmas supper. Come
quick, quick, Mother Anna; we boys are just




CHRISTMAS EVE. 91

wild as ever; you know us of old; we are
ot very good at waiting!”

George had, meantime, opened the door of
the old woman’s sitting-room, and was amazed
to see a small Christmas-tree, all lighted up,
standing on the table. Mother Anna seemed
to have heard neither the boy’s call nor his
noisy entrance. George, remembering that
the old dame was somewhat hard of hearing,
did not wonder at this, but he was amazed
to find her standing before a fir-tree, adorned
with gilded sugar-plums, and all lighted up
with colored tapers. Under the tree lay sey-
eral broken playthings, a book with a torn cov-
er, and a wooden pencase, from which time
had nearly obliterated the ornamental color-
ing. Mother Anna first took up one and then
another object from the table, and looked at
them with swimming eyes. George closed the
door behind him and approached the tree.
The old woman then, for the first time, ob-
served him, and started back an instant at
finding she had had a witness to her strange
proceedings.

“ What are you doing, Anna?” asked the

a
92 CHRISTMAS EVE.

boy, stretching out his hand toward the book
that lay under the Christmas-tree. ‘ Whom
are these intended for?” continued he, point-
ing to a little company of tin soldiers, a head-
less and tailless wooden horse, and a battered
leather ball.

The old woman wiped away her tears, and
said: “It is now my chief pleasure at Christ-
mas to bring before me the time when my
Godfrey was a child and still with me. Nearly
fifteen years have passed away since he went
on his travels as a journeyman mason, and
from that day to this I have never heard a sin-
gle word from him. It does me good to go
back to old times. Besides, I had last night
a very strange dream about my dear child.
He stood in this very room, and said to me:
‘Mother, when will the Christmas-tree be
ready?’ Filled with joy, but with trembling
hands, I dressed the tree, and, having nothing
else belonging to him, I laid his old playthings
and torn catechism on the table. He joyfully
stretched out his hands to me, when I awoke.
And this whole day I have heard, sounding in
my ears, yes, in the very bottom of my heart:



















CHRISTMAS EVE. 93

her, when will the Christmas-tree be
gi 22?

of the Christmas-tree awaiting him at
and he begged the old nurse to go with
the house, where his parents and broth-
expecting her. But she shook her
und aid: “Let me stay where I am; I
lonely as you may perhaps think, for
hts of days long past come and
pany. When the lights are all
out, I will go to bed, for I feel quite
the cold in the church. I will come
and see all your pretty things.”
e found all his entreaties vain. Moth-
. was not to be persuaded, and soon
ick to the tree and the old playthings.
peealy forced to return home without

ed ce at Godfrey’s name, written in a
, childish hand, on the first page of
atechism, anid kissed the faded letters over
wer again. One light after another went

ing the room quite filled with the per-

a
94 CHRISTMAS EVE.

fume of the scorched pine-leaves. All was
now dark, except where the new moon threw a
faint gleam of silver light upon the table.

“Thou gavest him to me, and thou hast
taken him away,” said the old woman, softly,
to herself. ‘Blessed be thy holy name!”

A dark shadow passed athwart the little win-
dow. ‘The house-door was opened, and a rapid
step crossed the entry. Could it be George,
making another attempt to induce the old wo-
man to go home with him? She had observed
nothing, but was lost in memories of the past.

In the open doorway stood a tall figure, and
a heavy breathing, as of one in haste, was
heard through the stillness; but Mother Anna
thought only of her dream, and longed that,
the dream of life might speedily be over, and
she once more united to her darling son.

Suddenly, a manly voice, trembling with
emotion, cried out: “ Mother, when will the
Christmas-tree be ready?”

She did not start, she uttered no sound, but
slowly turning toward the door, opened wide
her arms. The long-lost son fell upon her
bosom. Long, long, was all quiet in that lit-
S EVE. 95





low sob, a sob of such
, broke the silence; and
ais peith its bright beams

sm, which had fallen
an’s hand upon the





T.


saat etn yt

A Fer pemrene cn pe te = Soe “nia



THE YOUNG GUEST.
-_
,
z

THE YOUNG GUEST.

Ir was a bright, clear day in autumn. The
harvest was already gathered into the barns;
only here and there did an occasional potato or
cabbage field offer a temporary shelter to the
timid hare, that now for the first time heard
the barking of dogs and the report of the gun ;
peaches and grapes were’ ripening on the gar-
den espaliers; and peasant-boys, with snares
and handfuls of service-berries, ran after the
pretty robin-redbreasts, that seemed to have *
found a favorite retreat in the hazel-grove
behind the village.

The fine old lindens before the gate of the
manor-house showed here and there a yellow
leaf, and their foliage became every day thin-
ner and thinner, but they were not the less
visited by countless sparrows, which occasion-
ally, when the windows gleamed in the last

&
100 THE YOUNG GUEST.

rays of the setting sun, became almost too
noisy to be agreeable.

At one of the upper casements of the manor-
house stood two young girls, arm in arm, and
as often as the noise of wheels was heard on
the road, they leaned out to see if the carriage
was not coming that was to bring their mother
from the city, whither she had gone to make
sundry purchases, rendered necessary by the
advancing season. At first they felt inclined
to laugh at their own eagerness and repeated
disappointments, but finally became quite im-
patient and anxious.

‘‘T really am too curious,” said the elder, a
bright blonde, with a fresh, rosy color in her
cheeks; “I really am too curious to know
. Whether our aunt has returned from Paris,
and has brought us any pretty things. The
milliner promised me a new hat too, if mamma
has not forgotten it.”

“J wish mamma would come,” said the
other, who, though younger, was nearly as tall,
and quite as blooming as her sister; “I have
just finished my first piece of embroidery, and
would so like to have a little praise for it.

2
THE YOUNG GUEST. 101

Mamma promised me some new books; you
know, Frances, how fond I am of reading!”

“@O yes,” said the elder sister, laughing;
“when you read in your books fine descrip-
tions of interesting travels and gay society,
you forget that we are shut up in our good
Bergstein, like two enchanted princesses, and
see or hear nothing but the fields and mead-
ows, and the cows and sheep pasturing upon
them. But, jesting aside, Margaret, it is a lit-
tle lonesome here in winter.”

“And yet, when you were at school, how
you longed to be in this same lonely place,”
said the sister, with a _ good-natured smile.
* Would you like to be back again where you
could hear nothing but barrel-organs and
street-bands, and see nothing but an occasional
play or a children’s ball? It is true I know
little about such things, for we have but few
children in our neighborhood, and. I never saw
a play but once, when I must confess that the
knights with their long beards and thundering
voices gave me more fear than pleasure, and I
wept so bitterly over poor Genevieve’s misfor-
tunes that I had a headache all the next day.

*
i %
102 THE YOUNG GUEST.

Indeed, I really think if I were to live in a
city, and see and hear the best things in it,
I should not be half so happy as in my dear
Bergstein.”

“JT also make no complaint of my home,”
replied Frances, slightly shrugging her shoul-
ders at what she considered her sister’s sim-
plicity. “But I really think it would do us
no harm to be a little livelier here. Father
is so much away, and when we are alone
we have so few visits; for mamma seems
to think us little girls, who ought still to be
in the nursery. And yet one of us is fifteen
years old!”

Assuming an air of great dignity, she rose
to her full height, smoothed back her hair,
which had been somewhat blown about by
the wind, and strove to look as staid and
sensible as possible.

“Fanny ! Fanny!’ cried the younger sister ;
“who was rummaging yesterday in the old
doll-closet ? and for whom did you make those
pretty little dresses and caps? All for me?
O, how good you are!”

Fanny’s reply was drowned by the sound of
THE YOUNG GUEST. 103

a carriage rolling into the court-yard. The
two girls ran down to greet their mother, and
Fanny’s eyes fell first upon the coachman’s
seat, where a large box was displayed, which
certainly contained the long-expected hat.
Margaret, on the contrary, was first attract-
ed by her mother’s scrious, almost melan-
choly look, and quickly asked, “‘ Have you
met with any misfortune, mamma, or have
you, perhaps, had bad news from father ?”’
Mrs. Gerard gently patted her daughter’s
cheek, now glowing with her race from the
upper story, and smiled as she said to Frances,
who had left the box, and was gazing anxious-
_ ly into her face, “ Do not distress yourself,
Wanny ; your hat has come safely, and I have
not forgotten the candies. Your father is well,
aad sends his best love to his children.”
Frances looked as if there could be no other
possible care in the whole world; she carried
the box. with her own hands into the house,
ran off for a pair of scissors to cut the cord,
and at the first glance of the tasteful bonnet,
forgot her dignity, and danced round the room
like a young child. But every joy, however
104 THE YOUNG GUEST.

great, must in time be moderated, and Fran-
ces was finally tired of admiring the beautiful
flowers, the pink satin, and the gossamer veil ;
she sat down at the table, and heartily enjoyed
the fresh tea-cakes the mother had brought
from the city.

But even the gay conversation of the two
girls could not drive away the clouds from the
mother’s face; and, in answer to Margaret’s
repeated questions, she finally said: ‘ What
now grieves me so much, my dear children,
may perhaps, in the future, be to you the
source of the purest joy. I heard to-day of
the death of an old friend whom I have not
seen for ten years. Last spring she became a
widow, and was ordered to the sea-side for
her health. She promised, when the sum-
mer should be over, to come and spend a
couple of months with me; but, meantime,
being taken very ill, she died, leaving her
only daughter doubly an orphan. I have not
seen the child since she was a baby, but I
think she must be about your age, Mar-
garet.”

* And now, of course, she will come and live
THE YOUNG GUEST. 105

with us, with the friend of her dead mother;
will she not?” asked Margaret, entreatingly.

“©, that would be delightful!” cried the
elder sister. “The winter would pass away
so quickly if there were only three of us; we
might then sometimes have a dance, for there
would always be one to play for the other two.
We might have little plays too: your friend
and her daughter always lived in a large city,
did they not, mamma ?”’

“She was the wife of a distinguished paint-
er,” replied the mother, ‘and spent considera-
ble time with her husband in Italy. Of course
she took her only child with her wherever she
went.”

“ And what is the poor little girl’s name?”
asked Margaret, with tears in her eyes.

“She was baptized Hedwig, after me,” said
Mrs. Gerard. Then, taking the hands of both
her children, she said, in tones of deep emo-
tion: “* My dear girls, I hope you will by love
and kindness strive to aid the poor orphan to
bear her sad lot. I have already written to
your father to ask his consent to my offering my
little god-child a home in our house. She has
106 THE YOUNG GUEST.

none but very distant relations, and in Berg-
stein she would at least find a tender mother.”

“ And two sisters!” cried the young girls,
both speaking at once. ‘She must sleep in
our room,” said Frances, eagerly, “‘and my
music, and ornaments, and even my pretty
greyhound, shall be as much hers as mine. I
wonder how she will look! I can hardly wait
till she comes! Was she a pretty child, mam-
ma?”

“JT will take down my. prettiest books and
read to her whenever she feels sad,”’ said Mar-
garet; “and if she is fond of flowers, my coral
tree and my acacia shall stand upon her work-
table.”

Mrs. Gerard listened with quiet satisfaction
to the manner in which her daughters proposed
to receive the young orphan; and, certain of
her husband’s approbation, she suggested such
delightful plans for the coming winter, that
Frances for a few moments even forgot her
new hat.

During the following days, even weeks, Hed-
wig’s name and her expected arrival were the
centre of every conversation. Various prepa-
THE YOUNG GUEST. 107

rations were made for her reception, little sur-
prises arranged, and sundry excursions among
the neighboring woods and hills postponed un-
til Hedwig could take part in them. The girls
often went to meet the messenger returning
from the post-office, in the hope of intercept-
ing the daily expected letter from the orphan’s
guardian, announcing more precisely the time
when she might be expected.

But one evening when they returned quite
wearied from their long walk, they were met
by their mother holding by the hand a strange
child that had arrived during their absence,
and that was no other than Hedwig Rosenberg.

But when the sisters saw the young stranger,
they stood quite confounded, and not a single
one of the joyous greetings they had imagined
passed their lips, for the sad little figure that
clung trembling and shrinking to Mrs. Gerard’s
arm was not at all the Hedwig whom the two
girls had fancied to themselves, and whom they
already loved so dearly. This was a weak,
sickly child, with sore eyes, a long, pale face,
and altogether of too awkward an appearance
to fulfil Frances’s expectations with regard to

%
108 THE YOUNG GUEST.

dancing and acting plays; she was evidently
a drooping plant, needing the most tender care,
and to which even the bright sun of Italy had
failed to give fresh and healthy coloring.

For a single moment Hedwig seemed about
to offer her waxen hand to the sisters; but as
they stood on the threshold, silent and motion-
less, she hid her face on Mrs. Gerard’s shoulder,
and burst into tears. It was a painful moment
to all, but the deep mourning in which the
plain little girl was dressed, finally remind-
ed Frances and Margaret of the bitter losses
the poor child had lately sustained, and they
hastened to the orphan’s side, gently stroking
her soft, dark hair, the only beauty she seemed
to possess, and bidding her most heartily wel-
come. But no confidential conversation arose,
and soon after, Mrs. Gerard took Hedwig into
her own room, where a bed had meantime
been prepared for her. The kind mother sat
beside the child until quite a late hour, in-
ducing her to unburden her mind by talking
freely of her departed mother, and weep away
the bitterness of her sorrow. The orphan’s
eyes finally closed, and she fell into a deep
THE YOUNG GUEST. 109

sleep. Mrs. Gerard bent in prayer over the
wan little face, and then noiselessly sought her
own couch, where she long lay awake listening
to the heavy breathing of her adopted child,
and thinking over her probable future.

The next day Hedwig was really ill, and
during the five following weeks could not leave
her bed. The agitation consequent upon her
mother’s death, the journey to Bergstein, and
the anxiety with which she had looked forward
to her reception among entire strangers, had
proved too much for her delicate constitution.
The physician at first despaired of her life, but
afterwards gave hope that this illness might
perhaps be instrumental in eradicating from
Hedwig’s constitution the seeds of disease al-
ready sown, and, by preventing her mind from
dwelling too painfully upon her late sorrows,
be the means of her rising from her sick-bed
stronger and healthier than she had ever been
before.

During this time the trees lost more and
more of their green leaves; the last flowers
faded, and the mists hung heavily round the

skirts of the forest. The birds had long before

10
*
110 THE YOUNG GUEST.

all flown away, except the lark, that with its
little gray top-knot still tripped across the
meadow, where the withered grass was every
morning decked in a fresh robe of glittering
frost. What had become of the delightful
walks which Frances and Margaret had pur-
posed taking with their young guest?

The fine autumn weather had lured in vain ;
as their mother rarely left the sick child’s bed-
side, Frances and Margaret never went beyond
the garden wall. They sometimes sat under
the dark-green foliage of the orange-trees they
had planted round a pretty little spot, to which
the name of Hedwig’s Rest had been given,
and which was intended to remind the young
guest of the myrtle and orange groves of Italy.
Not once had the orphan been able to visit this
retreat, and, what was still more trying for
Frances, not a single song or dance had she
been permitted to play during the whole time,
for the instrument stood in the room below the
sick-chamber, and not the least noise was
allowed in the whole house, lest the invalid
should be disturbed in that sleep which the
physician had declared so indispensable to her
recovery.
THE YOUNG GUEST. 111

“O, how different everything in this world
is from what one fancies it will be,” said Fran-
ces. ‘ We thought to find in Hedwig a cheer-
ful companion, who would help us to pass the
winter pleasantly away, and instead of that, we
sit here like the poor canary in the cage when
he is moulting, and cannot sing a note. Who
would have thought it?”

“ Well,” replied Margaret, “‘the poor sick
child is better now, and if the doctor is right
in saying that she will, in future, be stronger
than she has ever been before, she may, per-
haps, become more cheerful, and more com-
panionable for us lively people.”

Frances shook her head, and, lowering her
yaice so as not to be heard by the gardener,
who was at work in a neighboring part of the
conservatory, said: “I fear she is quite too
ugly ; I do not think I can ever become accus-
tomed io her long face, her sore eyes, and, in
short, her whole appearance. I wonder mother
has never talked with us about it.”

Before Margaret could reply, Mrs. Gerard
entered the conservatory with a letter in her
hand, and apparently seeking her daughters.
112 THE YOUNG GUEST.

“Our good Hedwig is asleep,” said she, sit-
ting down on a bench shaded by the luxuriant
foliage of the orange-trees, “so, my dear chil-
dren, I can stay and talk a half-hour with you.
I have sadly missed our former constant and
intimate intercourse, and regretted that my
duties to the sick have prevented me from giv-
ing you as much time and attention as I would
have liked. But I do not believe you have
made any ill use of your greater freedom, for
you well know what Eye sees you when your
mother cannot be near to watch over you.
Now that Hedwig is improving from day to
day, I hope we shall soon be able to return to
our former mode of life; indeed I think our
little circle will be more delightful than ever,
for our young guest has a richly endowed mind
and a most tender and affectionate heart. Had
it not been for the physician’s command, and
my own desire to keep you away from the sick-
room, you would probably be now rejoicing, as
I do, in the acquisition we have made in the
person of our new inmate. I feel sorry that
the separation has been thought necessary, as I
fear it has diminished your sympathy for this
excellent child.”

”
THE YOUNG GUEST. 113

Margaret felt the gentle reproof conveyed by
her mother’s words, and was silent; but Fran-
ces said, with a slight expression of vexation,
for she could not hear her mother praise Hed-
wig without a faint feeling of envy: ‘I would
have been much better pleased if we had re-
mained alone among ourselves; I have given
up all the plans I had proposed for our enter-
tainment with Hedwig, for—do not be dis-
pleased, dear mamma!—TI do not feel at all
attracted toward the daughter of your friend ;
she is not—not pretty enough. I think you
will yourself agree with me in that.”

Mrs. Gerard heard these words from her
daughter’s lips with evident distress; her face
assumed an expression of sadness which Mar-
garet could never see without feeling uneasy,
for she knew at once that something was amiss.
Leaning her head tenderly upon her mother’s
shoulder, she said: ‘“‘ We are both nothing but
very foolish children, mamma, and we will
soon become accustomed to Hedwig if she is as
sweet and good as you describe her. We were
very wrong in attaching so much value to out-

ward appearance, for you have often told us
10%
%
114 THE YOUNG GUEST.

what a doubtful good beauty is, and how little
it can do to render us happy in this life and
blessed in the next. The reason we were so
disagreeably disappointed in Hedwig, was be-
cause we had in thought endowed her with
every imaginable inward virtue and outward
grace. One ought never to fancy pictures of
those whom one has never seen, for one imag-
ines either too little or too much: and the lat-
ter has been our case, dear mother.”

Mrs. Gerard opened the letter she still held
in her hand, and said, gently but seriously:
“ Your own better feelings have already taught
you how unreasonable you have been in this
matter, and hence I will not, by reproof, add
to the self-condemnation you doubtless feel,
but will read you some parts of a letter I have
just received from my sister.”

“From dear Aunt Louisa?’ asked Frances,
drawing nearer to her mother’s side. ‘ How
is she? Is she still in Switzerland, mam-
ma?”

“She writes to me from the loveliest of
Alpine valleys, — from Wallis. Listen a few
moments, dear children,” replied Mrs. Gerard.
THE YOUNG GUEST. 115

“You have, dear sister, thus far enjoyed with
me all the beauty and sublimity I have de-
scribed to you; now I must lead you into
darker and sadder paths, and place before your
mental vision a sketch which cannot fail to
rouse your warmest interest and sympathy.

“On a grassy eminence, surrounded by the
higher Alps, commanding an enchanting pros-
pect, and fanned by the most salubrious moun-
tain breezes, stands a small and lonely house.
Within view are the Jungfrau with its shining,
silvery mantle of snow, the Monk, and the El-
ger. The eminence on which the house is
built is called the Abendberg. You already
know of what I am about to speak, but you
must listen, for my heart is too full to be silent.
A man filled with love to God and his fellow-
men, Doctor Guggenbiihl, from Zurich, has
here erected an asylum for the unhappy crea-
tures who, amid these beautiful and sublime
scenes of nature, grow up miserably deformed
and stunted, both in body and soul, under the
influence of that most frightful of all maladies,
Cretinism. The principal seat of this fell
scourge to humanity is among the Pyrenees ;

%
116 THE YOUNG GUEST.

but any one travelling among the Alps must
have seen the wretched beings, whom most per-
sons pass with a look of fruitless amazement,
or, worse still, with a gesture of most unchris-
tian disgust. Were I to attempt a description
of these unhappy creatures, with their dispro-
portionately small arms, legs, and hands, their
frightfully swollen heads, necks, and bodies,
passing nearly their whole lives leaning against
a wall, or lying on their backs because their
muscles have not strength sufficient to support
their bodies, the fearful truth would still far
surpass the picture I should draw. Fancy a
figure of from three to four feet. in height, an
immense, misshapen head, swollen throat, and
short neck, little, lustreless eyes peering out
from beneath a forehead almost as low as that
of the brute creation, a broad, flat nose, and a
mouth with hanging, fleshy lips, protruding so
far forward that little or nothing of the chin is
visible; add to this, long, projecting ears, a
quantity of coarse hair on the top of the head,
and, at the best, a harsh, croaking voice, which
usually utters none but incomprehensible words,
and you may form some faint idea of what a
THE YOUNG GUEST. 117

Cretin is. You will doubtless think that this
picture is horrible enough, but there are still
some dark touches to be added. If the cor-
poreal condition of these miserable beings be
thus deserving of compassion, their spiritual
state is not less so. It is very difficult, in
most cases entirely impossible, to teach them to
read and write, and but in few instances have
they ever learned a trade. Their emotional
nature seems to be easily excited, especially
their religious feelings; and when once led -to
God, the support of the weak and helpless, they
cling to him with childlike reverence and faith.

“Tt was the sight of a praying Cretin that
induced Doctor Guggenbiihl to resolve to de-
vote his whole life, with all its powers, to the
cure, or at least the education and care, of
these pitiable objects. With his own funds he
bought a small tract of land, and built on it a
house, at first destined to receive but six such
afflicted children. Mr. Helfreich, a teacher
of youth, possessing considerable wealth, and
sharing the Doctor’s views, united with him,
and took part in the difficult enterprise. Such
a noble example of self-sacrifice did not remain

%
118 THE YOUNG GUEST.

without fruit. Many gifts were sent in aid of
the asylum on the Abendberg, so that, at the
present time, more than twenty children at
once can be received into the institution.
Charitably minded women were also not want-
ing, when they were needed, to watch over
the poor creatures, and, by untiring faithful-
ness and care, endeavor to restore in them,
as far as possible, the image of God. These
noble efforts of Doctor Guggenbiihl and his
worthy associates have been imitated in Wur-
temberg, Saxony, and Northern France, where
asylums have recently been erected for the af-
flicted of those lands, although they are much
fewer in number than in the vales of Wallis
and Aosta. In all these institutions, the Doc-
tor’s counsels and experience have proved of
the greatest value.

“I, for my part, dear sister, must confess that
I stood ashamed and humbled in the presence
of those excellent men who had voluntarily
assumed so heavy a task. I asked myself
whence they had obtained courage to pass
their whole lives with those unfortunate be-
ings, who seem more like brutes than men;
THE YOUNG GUEST. 119

and, even at the best, can only be capable of
a very limited development; then I thought
of the passage in Scripture: ‘If ye have faith
as a grain of mustard-seed, ye can move moun-
tains!’ Yes,—/faith and love give strength
and patience to overcome all difficulties, and
render it possible for those faithful laborers
to awaken the souls of these unhappy chil-
dren, and finally lead them to their Lord and
Master in heaven.

* One of the young nurses, a Gray Sister from
Waadtland, aroused my interest to such a de-
gree that I sought an opportunity of having a
longer conversation with her. I confessed to
her my desire to know in what wonderful way
she had been led among the poor Cretins on
the Abendberg, and how she had happened
to devote herself to this kind of life. With
the most amiable unreserve, she gave me the
following sketch of her life: —

“¢] was the only child of poor parents, who,
dying early, left me an orphan. Received into
the poorhouse, I did not enjoy the advantages
of a careful education, and my character, orig-
inally tainted with an unfortunate tendency

%
120 THE YOUNG GUEST.

to scorn and envy, developed most unhappily.
As no one loved me, and as I also cared for
no human being, I did not think it worth my
while to govern my evil dispositions. I was
always in the way of the old people, with whom
I chiefly lived. If I felt gay, which indeed
seldom happened, and played or sang a little,
I was at once sent away because I made too
much noise ; if, on the contrary, I sat gloomily
and silently in one corner of the room, I was
told that I must certainly be concocting mis-
chief, and was only waiting for a chance to
play some naughty trick. Perhaps such an
opinion was not always unjust; I felt very
much tired of having nothing to do, for I had
but little opportunity of learning anything or
of being useful, so that I often took pleasure
in teasing the old women, hiding away their
things, or frightening them by making a ter-
rible noise in garret or cellar. I soon obtained
the reputation of being a wicked imp of a
child, and was more frequently scolded than
regarded with friendly eyes. I therefore re-
venged myself in every way I could, and soon
became so reckless, that I was really almost as
THE YOUNG GUEST. 121

bad as every one thought me. No one knew
that, after playing the most outrageous tricks
upon my tormentors, as I called them, I often
sat the whole night long upon my mother’s
grave, weeping over myself and my evil ways.
I slept in the garret with an old deaf woman,
and hence no one observed when [I slipped
out of the house, and, climbing over the church-
yard wall, passed hour after hour in the cold
night-air, and did not return until the morn-
ing broke. I had thus reached my tenth year,
when a distant relative of my mother’s moved
into our town and opened a small store. She
had scarcely been two days in B ‘ when
she came to see me. The mayor of our town
had told her all that was said of me, and had
counselled her not to trouble herself about me.
But my cousin thought otherwise. ‘ What
you tell me,” said she, mildly, ‘does not
sound very promising, but I think I will
make a trial of Eliza. I have always loved
children, and children me; in short, I will
take the girl home, and see if I cannot set
her silly head right. I am, besides, her rela-

tive, and there is a great deal in kindred, to
1


122 THE YOUNG GUEST.

say nothing of her being a poor, forlorn orphan.
You say the child is bad, and has a bad heart:
that should not prevent my taking her; for do
you think if Eliza had a dangerous malady,
I would allow that to hinder me? Certainly
not! And wicked people are surely sick ; they
need care and attention, patience and well-
meant advice, as much as any others. Per-
mit me then to make a trial; I am not rich,
but the little I have will suffice for two per-
sons who have simple wants and no lofty ideas.
Eliza ought not to be a burden on the com-
munity so long as any one of her own family
is ablé to take care of her.” Thereupon the
mayor took off his hat to my cousin, and said
that was an upright idea, and that God would
not permit the good deed thus done to me to
go unrewarded. But my cousin would not
listen to any praise for what she considered
simply her duty. One day she came and took
me from the poorhouse, and led me to her
own little dwelling, which was adorned with
green boughs and roses, as if for some especial-
ly festive occasion; fresh bread and fine honey
stood on the table, and as we entered my
THE YOUNG GUEST. 123

cousin prayed aloud, “ May God bless your
entrance here,’ and kissed me on brow and
mouth. For the first time in a long while I
wept. My cousin gave me clean clothes, and
was very particular that I should be orderly. -
When I did anything wrong she did not scold,
but looked at me with her good, kind eyes so
sadly that I would far rather have been beaten.
She also prayed for me most fervently, that
God would heal my sick heart, and make me
as good as my dear mother, who had won for
herself the love of the whole canton. Such
words always touched me to the heart, and it
was not long before I began also to pray that
God would aid me to become all my cousin
desired to see me, and all my dear mother had
been. I was now never envious of any one, for
I had clean clothes and plenty to eat, and also
read in the Bible how the great and mighty
king Saul, in spite of his power and glory, was
often sad at heart, and was forced to have re-
course to a man of humble condition, David,
to sing away his sorrow and heavy thoughts.
My soul thus became gradually free from its
former infirmities; I would have given my

%
124 THE YOUNG GUEST.

life to spare my cousin the least pain; how
then could I myself have caused her any?
Yes, indeed, dove wrought great wonders in
my soul, for nothing is mightier than love.
As I grew older, I longed to do to others the
same good that had been done to me. After
closing my cousin’s eyes, and promising over
her cold corpse that I would follow in her
ways, I looked about for work, —for some
labor of love, such as my cousin had wrought
upon me, a poor, soul-sick child, and I did not
look in vain. The mayor, who had always
remained on excellent terms with my benefac-
tress, one day read me a letter he had received
from his brother, a clergyman in Waadtland,
asking him if there were any young girls in
his district penetrated with the love of Christ,
and willing to become sisters of mercy, devot-
ing their lives to works of love, especially in
nursing the infirm. That sounded to me like
the voice of God; I soon took my resolution,
and enrolled myself among the Gray Sisters.
During several years I nursed the sick in
general, until once, on a journey I was forced
to make to take a sick lady to Berne, we
THE YOUNG GUEST. 125)

stopped upon the Abendberg, and when I be-
held these most pitiable among human crea-
tures, I determined to devote my life to those
in whom the image of God was outwardly
darkened, but who still retained the inward
likeness in the realm of feeling. How much
more repulsive had I not been in my childish
perversion, and yet how kindly had my cousin
stretched out to me a saving hand! I felt anx-
ious to repay the good she had done me by
doing likewise to these poor creatures, and I
have never regretted my determination. What
I at first did through love and gratitude to my
cousin, afterwards took firmer root in the love
Ibkore to Him who came on earth to call the
sinner, the wretched and forsaken in every
class, to himself. He, the Divine Friend to
children, watches over the little ones, whose
angels see the face of the Father in heaven,
and of whom He says, ‘‘ Woe to him who shall
scandalize one of these little ones!” Thus am
I entirely content with my situation, and would
not exchange it for any other in the whole
world.’

“These are very nearly the precise words
1*
126 THE YOUNG GUEST.

used by Sister Eliza, a young, handsome woman
of between twenty-four and twenty-six years
old. I can never forget her. lLalso take home
with me a dear remembrance from her, —
a small night-lamp, with a green shade, on
which is inscribed: ‘I rest and sleep in peace,
for thou, O Lord, watchest over me.’

“ But enough for the present ; I have written
you a volume instead of a letter, but my heart
was so filled with the profound impression
made upon it by my visit to the Abendberg,
that I could not refrain from imparting it to
one who, I know, will feel with me so deeply.
Read this little account to your daughters ; —
I can fancy the interest our lively Frances
will take in my Gray Sister, and how our gentle
Margaret will desire to imitate her in good
deeds, the opportunities for which, in what-
ever place or manner, can never be wanting.
We have always the poor and sorrowing among
us, as also those who do not that which is right
in the sight of God, and who hence stand in
still greater need of charity and works of love,
that they may be turned from their evil ways.
God be with you and with all your dear ones!
THE YOUNG GUEST. 127

The hour is late, and this letter must go by the
first mail to-morrow, so no more at present; I
will go to rest and sleep in peace.
ce Nour,
“¢ Louisa.”
=

Mrs. Gerard folded the letter after having
read it to the end, and scarcely seemed to ob-
serve the effect it had produced upon her two
daughters. Margaret’s eyes were filled with
tears, and fixed upon the windows of Hedwig’s
room, where the curtains were a little drawn
back to admit the last rays of the declining
sun; her heart reproached her that she had
cared so little for the poor young girl lying
there upon a sick-bed, and the more that this
indifference had arisen from the fact that Hed-
wig had not an attractive exterior, and at the
first view had nothing very prepossessing about
her. Frances had listened with ever-increas-
ing interest to the account her mother had
read. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks
glowed as they usually did when her teacher
narrated or read the great deeds of distin-
guished men or noble women, such as Cor-
128° THE YOUNG GUEST.

nelia, Maria Theresa, Elizabeth of Thuringia,
Louisa of Prussia, or Elizabeth Fry. How in-
tensely she had always desired to follow in the
footsteps of these illustrious models; and now
she was forced to confess, that, while longing to
reach the great, she had neglected to do the
good lying nearest to her. How contemptible
she felt, compared with that humble and ob-
scure sister on the Abendberg, who had devot-
ed all her powers to the care of the sick and
the miserable, in order to repay a portion of
the kindness she had herself received as a
child. And had she, who had from infancy
been watched over by the most careful and
affectionate of mothers, less reason to be grate-
ful to God? How strange was it that this let-
ter from Aunt Louisa should have arrived just
at this time, to show her how foolish and un-
kind she had been! She would probably have
fallen on her mother’s neck, and have confessed
how wrongly she had felt and acted, had not
Hedwig’s nurse at that moment appeared at
the window of the sick-chamber, and given the
concerted signal that Hedwig was awake.
Frances could hence only kiss her mother’s
THE YOUNG GUEST. 129

hand with unwonted fervor, while Margaret,
drooping her head over a wreath she had been
weaving, of laurel leaves and pomegranate blos-
soms, so that her long curls covered her face,
gazed thoughtfully upon the ground.

When the mother had gone, the two girls
found nothing to say to each other. Frances
went to the grapery to cut some fine grapes
she had observed the day before, she did not
say for whom. Margaret soon finished her
beautiful wreath and carried it to the house,
without, however, mentioning for whom it was
intended.

A few moments later, the sisters met at the
door of the sick-room; they were both at first
somewhat embarrassed; but Margaret finally
said, with a smile: ‘‘ How childish we are; we
did not feel the least ashamed when we were
acting so coldly and unfeelingly toward poor
Hedwig, and now that we have determined to
do better, we stand here as if we had been
caught in some misdeed. I have brought Hed-
wig a wreath, to remind her of the beautiful
groves she has seen in Italy.”

“ And I,” said Frances, “have brought her

a
130 THE YOUNG GUEST.

these ripe grapes; perhaps the doctor will per-
mit her to eat them, and I am sure she will
find them refreshing.”

They knocked at the door, and softly asked
if they might enter; their mother beckoned
them to come near the bed. There lay Hed-
wig, pale as death, with her thin hands folded
across her breast. Her nose looked sharper
than ever, and her eyes had not improved since
the first evening of her arrival. The sick girl’s
appearance had not altered for the better, and
yet the sisters did not suffer this to disturb
them as they laid their gifts upon a table stand-
ing near; the conversation, which began in
whispers, gradually became so lively and in-
teresting that the mother was forced to dismiss
her daughters, lest her charge should become
too much excited to sleep well during the
night.

As they bent over Hedwig to take leave, she
threw her arms round their necks, and said,
imploringly: “ Will you come again to-mor-
_row? and do you not think you can, in time,

love me a little?”
Margaret could only make a gesture of as-
THE YOUNG GUEST. 131

sent; her heart was too full of shame and
repentance, as well as of compassion for the
poor, sick child, to allow her to speak. As the
two sisters afterwards sat together in the par-
lor, Frances said: ‘There are some ugly faces
to which one becomes so accustomed that one
no longer observes their want of beauty; do
you not think, Maggie, that our poor Iedwig,
in spite of her paleness, did not look so plain
to-day as on that first evening? Her eyes are
not so red, and she gave me a right friendly
look when I told her I had brought the grapes
for her.” °

«¢ And how she loves flowers,” said Margaret ;
“she kissed my wreath. It would not have
been unbecoming if it had been placed on her
brow! When she leaves her bed and can sit
in the parlor, the gardener must send fresh
flowers every day.”

“T will sing her my most soothing songs,”
said Fanny; “she is not so melancholy as on
the first day of her arrival; she laughed two or
three times while we were talking. The win-
ter may be quite endurable after all, even if we
can have no dancing and acting. I wish Hed-

wig were only entirely well again!”
a
1382 THE YOUNG GUEST.

From that hour the two girls devoted them-
selves to the sick child, thinking only how they
might amuse her, and sitting constantly in her
room so that their mother might safely return
to the duties of her house, which she had long
been forced in a measure to neglect. This
intercourse with Hedwig was no task, but a
delight to both sisters. While the days grew
shorter, and the last leaves fell from the lin-
dens, they scarcely observed the change, so
occupied were they in imparting to one an-
other their mutual feelings and youthful ex-
periences. Then Christmas was near at hand,
and Hedwig proved herself a real treasure in
all the little preparations and pleasant, sur-
prises of that happy season. She had a great
deal of taste, and knew how to make beautiful
frames of leather, cut into patterns and var-
nished, shades of silk, ornamented with col-
ored leaves and paper flowers, and a variety
of other fancy articles. The sisters looked on
in amazement while Hedwig’s slender fingers
wrought such graceful objects, and were never
weary of expressing their admiration.

‘When did you find time to learn so many
THE YOUNG GUEST. 138

things?” once asked Frances. ‘“ You have
travelled so much, and have been so much
ill; besides, these fancy articles require a
great deal of patience and perseverance.”

“ Just because I was such a sickly child,’
replied Hedwig, with a gentle smile, lending
a certain charm to her plain face, “ that I
could take but little pleasure in the usual
amusements of children of my own age. I
never dance, and am very awkward in many
things that most young girls enjoy exceeding-
ly. Hence I have read a great deal, and also
learned to copy the beautiful objects I saw in
my travels whenever I had the opportunity of
acquiring the necessary knowledge and skill.
One deserves no credit for being industrious
waen one is in my position, for it is the only
way to escape ennui.”

The girls were all now most continually but
mysteriously occupied ; colored papers and
ribbons were ordered from the city, paste and
glue made, and bits of leather cut into a va-
riety of forms, so that several weeks before
Christmas actually arrived, every drawer and

closet in the sisters’ room was filled with a

12 y
&
134 THE YOUNG GUEST.

variety of pretty little articles; even the most
remote relatives and distant friends were this
time to receive a gift. The sisters were so
impatient they could scarcely keep their secrets
until the festival actually arrived.

One day they were sitting at a large table
in the dining-room, working and talking with
equal eagerness. Mrs. Gerard had gone to
the city; and, as at the commencement of our
tale, Frances and Margaret were listening to
every passing wheel, this time that they might
not be discovered at their work. A light
knocking was heard at the door, and when it
was opened, there stood the wife of the village
schoolmaster, courtesying and begging a thou-
sand pardons for having intruded upon the
young ladies; but her case was urgent, and
she knew the gracious lady was absent. She
coughed and courtesied between every word,
so that Margaret had considerable difficulty
in persuading her into the room and inducing
her to take a chair.

Finally, after many circumlocutions, she
told the purpose for which she had come. It
was true she belonged to an excellent family,



























THE YOUNG GUEST. 135

ny respectable and some wealthy
but the soundest tree might send
unhealthy shoot, and she had a rel-
ighboring village that had once
lent cook, and had earned high
perintending the kitchen depart-
dings and other festivals among
ntry in her district. But Aunt
ew nothing about saving, her
ly being to earn one dollar and
he had been very pretty and
d had striven to outdo her neigh-
dresses, caps, and ribbons. By de-
measure grew longer than the stuff;
creased upon her, and one day her
found empty ; she had gone off
best clothes, and for a long time
been heard of her. This very
the schoolmaster had gone to attend
funeral, Aunt Frederika had made
ance at the schoolhouse, ‘sick and
and begging for a little room to die
od so willed, to recover her health
a new life. She had started for
ut her things had been stolen, she
136 THE YOUNG GUEST.

had suffered from cold and hunger, and, what
was worse, from a bad conscience. She had
finally begged her way here, and now asked
for pity and assistance ; she could weave beau-
tiful baskets, and would try to earn her bread
by the labor of her hands until she had re-
gained the confidence of the community, when
she hoped to obtain a place as cook. ‘ What
am I to do?” continued the schoolmaster’s
wife, hesitating between fear and compassion.
‘J have no one to apply to for advice; my
husband, our reverend pastor, and the gracious
lady,— O no, I mean the gracious lady, the
reverend pastor, and my husband,—are all
absent. In my perplexity I took heart, and de-
termined to come to my young ladies. I have
a room to spare for aunty, but nothing more,
for six children sit morning, noon, and night
at my table, and the eldest boy is to be sent
next year to the normal school; that is to say,
one must turn every penny over twice before
one spends it. And if aunty should grow
worse, or die, the community would have to
bear the burden, and I am not willing to take
the responsibility. If I should send the poor
THE YOUNG GUEST. 137

thing away, and she should die by the wayside,
that would be against my conscience and the
word of God.”

The talkative little woman here rose from
her seat and made her best courtesy, for she
laid great stress upon her manners. The girls
looked at each other half laughing and half
pityingly, and Margaret replied to Fanny’s
question as to what was best to be done:
“That is for you to say, Fanny; you are the
eldest, and know more than I do.”

The elder sister would willingly have shown
a little vexation, but that would not have been
well bred, especially in the presence of a wo-
man who scemed to think so much of polite-
ness, and hence she said: ‘‘ If our mother were
here, I am sure she would decide that the poor
woman ought to be provided with shelter and
food, and I think she would be ill-content with
her children if they were less pitiful. Follow
then your own good heart, Mrs. Miller, and
mamma will provide for the rest.”

“ At all events,” added Margaret, blushing,
“J promise you my next month’s pocket-

money for your aunt. Unfortunately, I have
12*
®
138 THE YOUNG GUEST.

spent every cent of this month’s, in prepara-
tions for Christmas.”

Hedwig had meantime risen from the table,
and beckoned the sisters to follow her to a
window recess, where Mrs. Miiller would not
overhear their whispered conversation.

“T think,” said she, “that we had better
share the care of this poor creature among us,
but still take it upon ourselves alone. One
must never let others do what one can, with
a little effort, accomplish one’s self. I have but
little to give, but the proposition I am about
to make will, I hope, help us out of all diffi-
culty. Our Christmas gifts are nearly ready ;
no one in the whole house has been neglected,
and we have still three whole weeks before
us; the labor has in itself been a pleasure,
and I propose that we take the articles to
a merchant living in C ,» whom I know,
and who will be very glad to buy them. We
may thus, perhaps, help the poor woman
through the hard winter, and induce her to
begin and continue a new and better life.”

“O yes!” cried both the girls; at the same
moment embracing Hedwig for this happy


THE YOUNG GUEST. 139

thought. The schoolmaster’s wife was as-
sured of repayment for all she might find it
necessary to spend upon her unwelcome guest ;
she did not know how rightly to express her
thanks and delight, and, in her agitation, trod
upon the foot of the sleeping Diana, which pet
of course set up a terrible howl, and added no
little to the poor woman’s embarrassment.

The conversation of the three girls had now
received new material, which promised to be
inexhaustible. They made plans for their pro-
tégée, and would gladly have gone that very
evening to the schoolhouse to see and console
the stranger. Francis felt especial interest in
her, perhaps because she felt herself inclined
to the same faults that had proved the ruin of
Frederika. A consultation was also held as to
whether Mrs. Gerard should be informed of
what they were about to do. Frances thought
not, fearing lest her mother should take upon
herself the care of the poor woman; but Hed-
wig shook her head and said: “Ono; as soon
as she has heard our project, she is too kind
and considerate to interfere with its execution.
I remember well how my dear mother always

%
1/40 / THE YOUNG GUEST.
/

¢maéle me bear the consequences of my gener-
) osity when I had given away my share of bread
and butter, cake, or whatever else we might
have upon the table. More than once she
has let me go hungry to bed, saying: ‘ Now,
my dear child, you know what hunger is,
never let any one suffer from it if you have
the power to prevent it.’ ”’

“Ah!” sighed Margaret, “I never was so
good a child; I was too fond of eating my-
self; but, then, I have very seldom had any op-
portunity of seeing want in others. It would
make me feel very sad to know that there were
persons near me suffering from hunger and
cold, and I without the means to relieve them ;
for we are not rich, and my purse is not always
so well filled that I could help all I might de-
sire to aid.”

“ One may do a great deal of good with very
small means,” said Hedwig; “we can learn
that from the example of the poor English
seamstress, Sarah Martin.”

“O, we never heard of her; do tell us all
about her!” cried Frances, moving her chair
nearer to Hedwig’s. The latter thus, without
delay, began : —
THE YOUNG GUEST. 141

“Tn a little village near Yarmouth lived
a poor carpenter, named Martin. He had
but one daughter, Sarah, early orphaned by
the death of her mother, and chiefly de-
pendent upon an aged grandmother for all
proper, especially religious, instruction. Her
first reading-book was the great family Bible,
in the pretty pictures and still prettier sto-
ries of which she at first found great pleas-
ure; but when about twelve years old, other
books fell into her hands, and she neglected
not only the Bible, but even her daily prayers.
The grandmother’s remonstrances were not of
much avail, and the Bible looked at her so re-
proachfully from its accustomed place on the
window-sill, that she one day hid it. Her
grandmother, fearing lest she should fall into
idle habits, had her sent to a tailoress to learn
atrade. The young girl was apt, and soon
won the affection and approbation of her mis-
tress; but she did not think much of gaining
the approbation of her Maker, until, on one
memorable Sunday, her heart was profoundly
moved by a sermon she heard in Yarmouth.

* Feeling the insufficiency of earthly things
142 THE YOUNG GUEST.

°

for happiness, she devoted herself to the ser-
vice of God, and soon found a field for the
exercise of charity in the instruction of poor
children who had no one to teach them on
weck-days, and who on Sunday afternoons
gathered round Sarah to listen to the words of
life. She also found plenty of sick to nurse,
and afflicted souls to comfort.

“One day, when on her way to town she
had gathered a large bunch of wild-flowers,
and was distributing them among the poor
children who lived pent up in narrow streets,
and rarely saw any of the beauties of nature,
she observed that one little girl did not share
in the general delight, but sat weeping on her
bench. When Sarah asked her what was the
matter, the child replied, ‘My mother is so
il!’

“Be quiet, my dear child,’ said the young
girl, ‘I will go after school and see your moth-
er; perhaps I can aid her in some way.’ But
the child only shook her head and wept the
louder, sobbing out, ‘That cannot be, for my
mother is in the workhouse.’ Sarah did not
suffer this to hinder her, and visited the work-
THE YOUNG GUEST. 143

house, where she found not only the child’s
mother, but many others needing care, both
bodily and spiritual. There were also a num-
ber of children growing up perfectly wild and
uninstructed. By working the harder the re-
maining five days of the week, Sarah managed
to spare one whole day for the improvement of
these poor little creatures. She soon saw that
this was not enough, and her health being
weak, and she herself totally dependent upon
the labor of her hands, she fell upon the idea
of inducing a man in the workhouse, who
could both read and write, to aid her in her
work of love. He acceded, and besides being
of great use to others, was himself led to aban-
don sundry evil habits he had contracted, and
lead the life of a good Christian.

* After a time, the magistrates of the town
noticed the excellent results of Sarah’s efforts,
and so far aided her that they permitted her to
use a large, cheerful public hall as a school-
room. The elder children were instructed to
teach the younger, and it was a real pleasure to
see little girls of from ten to twelve, standing
or kneeling before a group of smaller ones, and

%
144 THE YOUNG GUEST.

teaching them their letters, or other useful
things.

“As a reward, Sarah once a year gave a
humble festival. The room was decked with
greens, and all the children dressed in their
best clothes. They passed the whole day sing-
ing, and playing a variety of innocent games,
and were regaled with coffee and rolls. All
this came out of Sarah’s own earnings ; but she
knew for whom she labored, and how dear
these poor, forsaken little ones were to the
Heavenly Friend of children. But,’’ here in-
terrupted herself, the narratress, “‘I fear you
will be tired of listening. I know the history
of the poor seamstress nearly by heart, because
my dear mother gave me her biography on my
last birthday, and I have read it over and over
again.”

“O, do go on,” begged Margaret; ‘we will,
in return, tell you about a man in Switzerland,
who seems to have been very much like your
Sarah Martin, for he did all he could for poor,
neglected children.”

“‘ Not only for children,” continued Hedwig,
“did Sarah employ her time; our Lord had
THE YOUNS GWEST. 145

other work for her to do. A competent master
was finally appointed to teach her school, and
she then had leisure to devote herself to-a pro-
ject she had long entertained. On her way to
the workhouse, she had frequently passed the
prison, and had sometimes seen the pale faces
of the prisoners looking out through the iron
bars. Sarah, with much difficulty, obtained
permission to visit the prison, at first, to try
and soften the heart of a murderess, confined
for the murder of her own child, and after-
-wards, to do what good she could among the
other prisoners. Finding many of them un-
able to read, she again set aside one day in the
week for the purpose of teaching, besides estab-
lishing a regular service every Sunday, which,
for four years, she conducted herself, until a
clergyman came to the parish, who volunta-
rily offered to take this portion of her labor
upon himself. Her exertions were not con-
fined to the women, but she also strove to sub-
due the rebellious wills and evil passions of
the men. Her success was wonderful.
“Several years thus passed away, when one

day Sarah received from a lady unknown to
13
146 THE YOUNG GUEST.

her a letter, begging her to devote two days in
the week to the prisoners, and securing to her
a stated sum in compensation for her loss of
time. Sarah complied with the first part of
the request, but devoted the money to the pur-
chase of Bibles and other books, paper, and
writing-materials. Soon after, gifts began to
stream in from all sides, and she was then able
to buy linen and other stuffs, which the women
made up into garments, thus earning small
sums for themselves, and preventing the evil
consequences of idleness. The men were also
taught to make mats, to cut spoons out of
horn, or to paint small pictures, in all of which
improvements Sarah was the soul and the
right hand. With the small amount earned
new materiais were bought, and a provision
made for those whose time had expired, and
who needed assistance before they could again
establish themselves in the world.

« All this was accomplished by a weak wo-
man, of delicate health, and no means but the
labor of her hands. How much must not her
heart have suffered from this constant inter-
course with convicted criminals! Many were
THE YOUNG GUEST. 147

also afflicted with loathsome diseases, while
others were with the greatest difficulty per-
suaded to adopt habits of order and cleanliness.
But the power of love overcame all obstacles.
Sarah was often wearied, but she never de-
spaired,

“She had devoted so much time to others that
she lost nearly all her work, and in her leisure
hours had not employment sufficient to bring
her bread. People said: ‘Sarah Martin can-
not be in want of work; she must have means,
or she could not do so much for the poor.’
This did not trouble Sarah, for her grand-
mother had left her three hundred pounds
sterling, and she lived upon the interest, very
simply, but without actual want. She also
confided in God, knowing that ‘he who giveth
to the poor, lendeth to the Lord,’ and feeling
sure that He whom she had so striven to serve
would never forsake her.

“ As her health gradually failed, the overseers
of the prison offered her a yearly pension of
twelve pounds. She wrote, in reply, that she
must decline the offer, not from any secret
pride, but lest her labors should not be so use-
148 THE YOUNG GUEST.

ful, so blessed by Heaven, if she received pay
for them. The overseers, however, would take
no refusal, and she was obliged to accept the
yearly stipend.

“ Sarah Martin enjoyed this not very gener-
ous assistance but a few years, and it always
gave her more pain than pleasure. On the other
hand, she always gladly received small pres-
ents, such as food or clothing, from her friends.
It was, however, always necessary to stipulate
that the articles were to be used by herself,
or she would not keep the least portion of
them.

“ Sarah finally devoted her whole time to
the prisoners, the released criminals, and the
girls in the night-schools: Yarmouth being a
manufacturing town, the children are put very
early at work, and hence have no time to learn
the customary branches for persons in their
station. Hence, night-schools were established
that they might in the evenings make up for
lost time. A large room was furnished by
the magistrates, and a number of charitable
ladies agreed to teach by turns. But they
were so unfit for the work, and found it so
THE YOUNG GUEST. 149

ungrateful, that one by one abandoned it, un-
til one alone was left, to whom Sarah Martin
associated herself, and the two took the sole
charge of from forty to fifty girls, many of
them over thirteen years old, and _ totally
ignorant of any duty to God or man. The
task was not an easy one; but before a month
had passed, the young work-women found
that the new teacher was an entirely differ-
ent person from the noble ladies that had
formerly instructed them, and that, whether
they would or not, they could not resist her
gentle reproofs and entreaties. By degrees,
they left off their evil ways, and no more fre-
quented the dangerous resorts which had pre-
viously imperilled their morals. Many and
many a one among them has since become an
upright and faithful housewife, and has blessed
Sarah Martin as the cause of her happiness.
“For three and twenty years did she thus
labor. When so weak that she could scarcely
walk, she still visited the prison, supporting
herself by laying her hand upon the wall.
Her end was peaceful, and her last word a

thanksgiving to God.”
13* a
150 THE YOUNG GUEST.

Hedwig might long have continued her
narration without fear of tiring the sisters.
The story of the poor seamstress not only
touched them deeply, but excited in them a
desire to imitate her as far as was in their
power. They determined to make their first
trial with the poor woman at the schoolhouse,
whom God seemed to have especially sent to
them. Hedwig was to be counsellor and con-
soler, and all three were to share the ex-
penses of the physician and apothecary. When
Frederika was well again, which they did not
doubt she soon would be, they were to buy a
basket with the money they got from the sale
of their pretty articles, and, having filled it
with fresh rolls from the city, Frederika was
to carry it round through the neighboring
villages, and sell the fine white bread at a
reasonable price. This operation was to be
repeated daily, until the rich farmer’s wives
through the district became acquainted with
her, and would then perhaps intrust her with
a variety of commissions in the city, for which
she would receive a slight remuneration.

Finally, she might obtain employment as a
THE YOUNG GUEST. 151

cook, if indeed her little trade did not on the
whole prove the better business.

Like the milkmaid in the fable, Frances was
so occupied in making the most extravagant
calculations for her protégée, that she came
near throwing a bunch of beautiful roses, just
finished, into the fire, instead of the refuse bits
of paper and silk. The carriage bringing the
mother home from the city, this time came
almost too soon. The signs of work were
soon laid aside, but not one of the girls could
run to meet her as usual; not even Frances,
although she was expecting some new articles
of dress.

Could astonishment at this be the reason why
Mrs. Gerard’s face bore so serious an expres-
sion? Ah no, there was a deeper cause for
that, as the sisters learned on the following
day when they were alone with their mother.
Mr. Gerard had during a long time been en-
gaged in a lawsuit which, should he lose it,
would deprive him of the greater portion of
his property. His frequent journeys had been
taken in the hope of finding missing papers,
or other substantial proof in support of his

a
152 THE YOUNG GUEST.

just claim, but thus far with little success.
His opponent was a vealthy nobleman, living
childless and almost misanthropic in the for-
ests of Thuringia; the suit had lasted fifteen
years, and it was now proposed to give a final
decision. The steward had informed Mrs. Ge-
rard of this sad news, and hence the gravity
of her aspect. In all probability, should the
suit really be lost, Bergstein would have to
be sold to cover the costs, and then the two
girls would be so poor that they would be
forced to relinquish many pleasures and com-
forts to which they had always been accus-
tomed. They felt very much cast down when
their mother unfolded to them the true state
of the case, and could scarcely conceal their
dejection from their adopted sister Hedwig,
whom they did not wish for the present to
know how poor they might shortly be.
During this anxious period, the sick woman
at the schoolhouse proved a real source of con-
solation, and while considering what was best
for her, the sisters often forgot their own cares.
Mrs. Gerard left the charge of Frederika’s
nursing and the provision for her future sup-
THE YOUNG GUEST. 153

port almost entirely to the three girls; her
daughters thought, because of the preoccupa-
tion of her own mind, but this was not, in
fact, the case. Mrs. Gerard had observed with
pleasure the praiseworthy efforts of the young
girls, and had refrained from taking any active
part, that she might not lessen their delight in

having alone been able to contribute to the
well-being of a fellow-creature.

Thus passed the first weeks of Advent, and
Christmas was now near at hand. The sick
woman improved daily; she could already
leave her bed and sit in Mrs. Miiller’s warm
kitchen, sewing for the children. When Hed-
wig or either of the two sisters were -seen
coming down the walk from the manor-house,
a faint rose tinged her sunken checks, for she
knew they never came without a little gift, or
some pleasant words of encouragement or con-
solation. Frederika would gladly have gone
through fire and water to serve any one of
them.

A week before Christmas, Mrs. Gerard sud-
denly received intelligence that her husband
had fallen ill in a distant city, and had request-

%
154 THE YOUNG GUEST.

ed her to be sent for. Notwithstanding the
severe winter weather, she at-once set out,
leaving her three girls under the protection of
God, and in the care of an old and faithful
servant. With this blow, fell all the air-castles
that, in spite of misfortune threatening in the
future, had been built upon the hope of a
merry Christmas, and the anticipation of num-
berless delightful surprises. Had it not been
for Hedwig, who entertained the sisters with
all the cheerfulness she could command, Fran-
ces and Margaret would have fallen into a
most miserable and unhappy condition. It
was she who proposed to invite the school-
master’s children to spend their Christmas
eve at the manor-house, and aided the sisters
to dress a Christmas-tree, a pleasure the eco-
nomical mother had never thought herself jus-
tified in affording her little ones. The aunt
was now quite strong and able to accompany
the children. Scarcely was this idea seriously
embraced, when a cheerful industry took the
place of the previous dejection. Frances will-
ingly exchanged several of her least valuable
ornaments for some useful gifts for the chil-
THE YOUNG GUEST. 155

dren; Hedwig cut out, sewed, and knit until
late in the night; and Margaret baked ginger-
bread and gilded apples. As on the day
before the festival a letter came from their
mother assuring them that their father’s life
was no longer in danger, every trace of sadness
yanished from the manor-house of Bergstein.
Hach one had prepared some little surprise for
the others, and the impatient girls could
scarcely wait until the happy hour arrived.
Time passed ; Christmas eve came, and with
it the children from the schoolhouse, leading
their old aunt through the street, as if in tri-
umph. Margaret quickly lighted the tapers
on the great Christmas-tree, and then happily
smiling, as a cheerful giver should, she opened
the folding-doors, before which the children
stood anxiously waiting. They were not shy
with their young benefactresses, they had seen
them so often before; Frederika alone had to
be persuaded into the room whence shone a
brilliant glow of light. She found upon the
table a large basket with a neat cover, a warm
hood, and a pair of soft gloves that Hedwig
had knit expressly for her. When Frederika
156 THE YOUNG GUEST.

became aware that these articles were her
share of the Christmas gifts, her eyes filled
with tears, and when upon lifting the gloves
she found under them five shining dollars en-
closed in a paper on which was written, “ For
the commencement of a little trade,’ she
sobbed aloud and could not speak a single
word. She felt both joy and sorrow; joy that
God had takén pity on her and had sent three
such friends as the young ladies at the manor
to comfort her, and sorrow that her past life
had rendered her undeserving of so much
goodness. When she regained her self-com-
mand, she repeated over and over again :
“ Ah, if I could only repay you all you have
done for me,” and kissed the young girls’
hands, especially those of Hedwig, to whom
she seemed to cling with a peculiar feeling of
love and devotion. The delight of the chil-
dren when they received the pretty copy-books
and pencases, the simple clothing, and the
small quantity of cakes and candies destined
for them, was indescribable. Aunt Frederika
was obliged to take a portion of each one’s
superfluity ; one gave her a sugar dove, an-
ng

i pee rider doi

OOS

oN





a a ern

THE YOUNG GUEST.
THE YOUNG GUEST. 157

other a handful of gilded nuts, and little Cath-
erine insisted upon her sharing her great
gingerbread heart upon the spot. Soon the
little ones expressed a wish to go home and
show father and mother all their pretty things.
As it was now snowing quite rapidly, the
coachman was ordered to take them all home
in a sleigh. This was the crowning happi-
ness; and far above the merry sleigh-bells
were heard their joyous voices declaring this
to be the most delightful evening they had
ever spent.

On their way home, they met two of their
schoolmates, children of a poor washerwoman,
striving to make the best of the merry season by
selling a few prints to such of the village house-
wives as might be charitably inclined. The
coachman, having apparently caught the infec-
tion of kindness prevalent at Bergstein, stopped,
and, calling the two little girls, bought their
last remaining prints for a few pennies. Noth-
ing would satisfy the young Miillers but that
these poor children should also have a sleigh-
ride, and go home with them to get something

nice for their mother’s supper. Thus does a
14
158 THE YOUNG GUEST.

single deed of kindness occasion many more ;
the circle of our influences for good or for evil is
so wide, that God in mercy has concealed from
us its vast extent, only occasionally permitting
us to perceive the full consequences of our ac-
tions to encourage us to good, or deter us from
evil.

And the three girls left alone in the manor-
house, had they then no joy in the festival ?
O yes! Although no mother’s love had this
time decked the table with gifts for them, they
were glad at heart, for they had tasted the
sweetness of giving joy to others, and had
learned the truth of the Scripture saying, that
it is more blessed to give than to receive.
They had also made pretty little presents to
each other; Hedwig still having the advantage
in the taste and invention displayed in her
graceful gifts. Had their father only been
quite well, and their mother at home, Frances
and Margaret might truly have said, with the
little Miillers, that they had never passed a
happier Christmas eve.

Frederika that night said her prayers with
unusual fervor, and begged God to lend her
THE YOUNG GUEST. 159

his aid, that she might ever walk in the narrow
path of righteousness, and never more displease
him, or be unworthy of all that had been done
for her. She also prayed for her young bene-
factresses, beseeching Heaven to bestow upon
them all good and excellent gifts.

Ten days later, Mr. Gerard, accompanied by
his wife, returned to Bergstein. He seemed
to have recovered from the malady that had
threatened his life, but was so depressed in
spirit that his daughters lost all desire for en-
joyment. The winter passed slowly and sadly
away ; no one thought of dancing or playing
games, and the happiest hours the sisters passed
were with Hedwig, studying, working, or lis-
tening to her vivid accounts of the countries she
had visited, and all she had seen in her travels.
Even Mr. Gerard sometimes felt the enlivening
influence of Hedwig’s mild cheerfulness, and
a smile would flit across his face as he saw
her occupied for the benefit of others, with an
inward prayer to the Helper of the oppressed,
that He would thus aid him, in case he and
his dear ones should be forced to leave their
beloved home.
160 THE YOUNG GUEST.

“ How sad we should all be if Hedwig were
not with us,’”’ said Margaret to her sister; “I
would never have thought she would have been
the one to enliven us all, even poor father.
When one looks into her soft eyes, one cannot
think of coming evil; and yet we allowed our-
selves at first to be so childishly repelled ! ”

“TI no longer think her ugly,” replied Fran-
ces; ‘‘ where could our eyes have been? And
even were she so, it would not matter; for I
see that every one in the house, yes, in the
whole village, loves Hedwig, and would do any-
thing in the world for her. It is far better
to be good than beautiful.”

Frederika said and thought the same. She
now went every day to town, and returned
with her basket filled with a variety of bread
and cakes, for which she found ready sale.
She was also intrusted by the farmer’s wives
with the disposal of their butter and eggs, and
thus not only made enough to pay for her own
subsistence, but was also able to save a little.
But she no longer cared to spend her spare
money in buying handsome clothes; and by
her industry and economy was soon able to
THE YOUNG GUEST. 161

make little presents to the young Millers, when
they wore out their shoes too rapidly for their
good mother’s purse, or wanted a penny on a
holiday to buy fruit with.

Thus passed the winter ; and then came the
first spring month, with its storms and thaws,
melting the snow and ice, so that the early
flowers and the green grass could once more
shoot forth and rejoice all hearts. By degrees,
the brown buds on the lindens opened into ten-
der, green leaves, while the storks flew over the
village toward the great sea beyond the forest,
and the swallows returned to their nests in the
walls of the manor-house. They, at least,
would be suffered to remain in their old
haunts. Mr. Gerard had had several excellent
proposals for his property, and, as it now
seemed vain to hope for a favorable issue to
the suif, he had determined to avail himself of
the opportunity offered for making a good sale.
Hedwig had finally learned the sad necessity
impending over the family, and during a whole
day had looked quite melancholy and down-
cast; but in the evening she went to her

adopted mother, and with one of her irresist-
14%
162 a THE YOUNG GUEST.

ibly sweet smiles, said: “I do not ask if I am
to seek a new home among strangers; I know
that you will not suffer the orphan to leave
you; but then I have learned many useful
things, which will aid me in earning something
for us all. Frances and Margaret will also do
their best, and even if we cannot live in a
manor-house, there are many beautiful valleys
in Switzerland where a small dwelling can be
cheaply obtained, and the rest we can do our-
selves. We have six willing hands, and you,
dear mother, shall never miss a single comfort
that we can procure for you.”

Mrs. Gerard smiled amid her tears, and
kissed the orphan upon brow and mouth, while
she promised to take this project into consider-
ation ; but she could not help feeling very sad
at heart. She knew but too well how hard it
would be for her husband to leave Bergstein,
which had descended to him from his great-
great-grandfather; she saw, too, how fondly
Frances and Margaret clung to the faintest
hope of retaining the beloved home of their
childhood. This hope faded gradually away
as the day approached on which the final decis-
THE YOUNG GUEST. 163

ion must be given. The parish register of a
small village in Baden, which could alone sup-
ply the necessary link in the chain of evidence,
was unfortunately nowhere to be found. It
was lost while the church was undergoing
some repairs, and the clerk, whose evidence
might perhaps be all sufficient, had fallen heir
to a large property in some foreign land, and
had gone, no one knew whither. In vain had
Mr. Gerard caused search to be made, and ad-
vertisements put in all the papers.

“Nothing but a miracle could help me
now,” said he, one day to Hedwig, as she was
speaking of the possibility that all might yet be
well.

“ Well, and are not miracles happening ev-
ery moment?” asked thé young girl, stepping
to the window, now shaded by a peach-tree in
full blossom, which but a few days before had
looked as dry and withered as if there were no
life left in it. Mr. Gerard shook his head with
a melancholy smile.

The fifth of May was Hedwig’s birthday ;
Frances and Margaret rejoiced over that day
as if there had been no lawsuits, nothing sad
164 THE YOUNG GUEST.

in the whole world. They only thought how
they could make it as pleasant as possible to
their adopted sister, and for once show her how
dearly they loved her. Margaret baked a bas-
ketful of macaroons, because, judging from
herself, she thought Hedwig would enjoy these
delicate cakes more than any other confection.

Frances had embroidered a veil, such as
Hedwig, on account of her weak eyes, was
always obliged to wear when she went out.
Besides this, she had gathered all the flowers
in the garden, and the whole neighborhood for
a mile around, — snowdrops, cowslips, branches
of snow-white hawthorn, long wreaths of creep-
ing pine, and boughs of fir; among these were
placed pots of tulips, bright-colored lilies, and
crimson fuschia. In the background stood or-
ange-trees with golden fruit, and myrtles with
dark-green, glossy leaves ; the little room, which
the three girls occupied together, looked like a
fairy garden.

On the night preceding the fifth, Hedwig,
under some plausible pretext, was asked to
sleep in the little dressing-room, opening into
the sisters’ chamber, that they might make the
THE YOUNG GUEST. 165

necessary arrangements. When, very early the
next morning, the schoolmaster’s children came
to sing under the window a birthday song
their father had taught them, Hedwig jumped
quickly out of bed, and, after saying her
prayers, dressed herself as rapidly as possi-
ble, and hastened into the neighboring apart-
ment. When she opened the door and beheld
the beautifully adorned room, wherein burned
a tall wax-taper, wreathed with halfblown
monthly-roses, her surprise and delight could
find no words, but she fell laughing and weep-
ing together into the arms of the sisters, who
stood awaiting her. Frederika had accompa-
nied the children, and stood in the background.
When the song was finished, the children took
Hedwig by the hand, and led her to the birth-
day-table, where they presented her with a
crown of roses cut from various roots, red,
white, and yellow, and prettily contrasted with
a background of green box-leaves. The flow-
ers were most beautifully made, and, that they
might last the longer, Hedwig carefully laid
the wreath upon a deep plate, containing wa-
ter. But Frederika seemed still to have some-

a
166 THE YOUNG GUEST.

thing on her heart, and in her hand, that she
was too modest to exhibit. Hedwig was her-
self obliged to encourage her to bring forth her
little gift, which, when it appeared, proved to
be a small book, containing prayers, hymns,
and some very pretty pictures. It was, appar-
ently, of small value, but gained in interest as
Frederika explained how it had come into her
possession. It had been given to her in Ham-
burg, at the time when she was about to sail
for America, and a serious illness had caused
her to change her plans, and given her life a
new direction.

“T was at the same hotel with a lady and
her husband, who were also about to leave their
native land. They had but one child, a pretty
boy of four years old, the darling of their
hearts. One morning while the mother was
packing away some things in her trunk, and
the father had gone out to obtain some addi-
tional information with regard to the vessel
they were to sail in, the boy climbed up on a
chair near the window, and leaned out to look
at a couple of monkeys dancing in the street.
He lost his balance, and would have fallen
THE YOUNG GUEST. 167

upon the stone pavement had I not also been
looking out of the window in the story below,
and, seeing his jacket catch upon an iron hook,
held him fast and drawn him in. The terri-
fied parents knew not how they should suff-
ciently thank me for having, as they said, saved
the life of their only child; they would will-
ingly have given me some very handsome gift
if they had only been in possession of the inher-
itance they were going to Calcutta to receive.
As it was, they had nothing to offer but this
little prayer-book, which they insisted upon my
taking as a pledge of what they would do for
me if they ever, by the blessing of God, re-
turned to their native land. I have since, sey-
eral times when in want of bread, offered the
book for sale, but the persons to whom I ap-
plied always aided me without taking the book,
and hence it has remained in my possession
until the present day. I have also learned to
prize it from its contents; but as it seems to
bear with it some peculiar blessing, I would
like to give it to you, for I wish you every pos-
sible good in the world, and, if I could, would
bestow them all upon you.”
168 THE YOUNG GUEST.

Hedwig was deeply touched with this proof
of affection, and although unwilling to rob
Frederika of her book, would not pain her
by refusing it. However, before she had had
time to thank the giver, Mrs. Gerard, who
had been in the next room, entered hastily,
and with great emotion asked Frederika the
name of the man from whom she had received
the prayer-book.

“] think it is written on the first page,”
said Frederika, wonderingly; “I never ob-
served it very closely.”

Mrs. Gerard took the book from Hedwig’s
hand: ‘“ Klittberg!” cried she, fairly tremb-
ling with excitement.

“And where — where had the man come
from? Where was he going?

“He came from Baden, and was going to
Calcutta; I think he said that was in the
Hast Indies,” replied Frederika.

“ God be praised!’ cried Mrs. Gerard. “If
this man be still alive, all may yet be well.
Klittberg was the name of the clerk whom
my husband has been vainly seeking for the
last five years,”
THE YOUNG GUEST. 169

Meantime Frances had gone for her father,
who, when he heard all that had occurred,
stood as if in a dream, and had to touch the
flowers, even the burning light, to convince
himself he was really awake.

That was indeed a joyful day at the manor-
house of Bergstein; young and old shared in
the general jubilee. ‘The schoolmaster’s chil-
dren were not forgotten, and neither was
Frederika, whom God seemed to have selected
as the instrument for releasing the Gerard
family from the burden of care and anxiety
which had so heavily weighed upon them.
Her heart was filled with the deepest thanks-
giving to God, who seemed to have hearkened
to her Christmas prayer, that she might repay
to her benefactresses all they had done for her.

A messenger was forthwith sent to Mr. Ge-
rard’s solicitor, and many letters written ; the
only source of complaint now was, that it
would take so long to hear from the Hast
Indies. No one doubted that the relief so
long despaired of would finally be obtained.
Frederika alone was sometimes rather de-

spondent ; it seemed to her too great a happi-

15
4
170 THE YOUNG GUEST.

ness that she should be the means of relieving
those who had been so kind to her from all
their cares, and her anxiety became every day
greater, as month after month passed away
without bringing the expected letter from Cal-
cutta.

One day, however, as the family sat together
breakfasting in the garden, a person was seen
coming down the road in the direction from
the city, so hurriedly that every one wondered
what misfortune could now have happened.
Finally the hasty messenger came near enough
to be recognized: it was Frederika, all out
of breath with running, and waving a white
handkerchief.

“You bring good news!” cried Hedwig,
hastening to meet her; and in fact she held
a foreign letter in her hand. Scarcely had
she given it to Mr. Gerard, when she fell
fainting upon the floor. All sprang to aid
her; the decisive document remained unread
until she had reopened her eyes. Before she
could speak, she pointed to the letter lying
on the table; Mr. Gerard broke the seal with
trembling hands, but his face beamed with
joy and emotion as he read on.
THE YOUNG GUEST. alga

“God has aided us!” cried he, finally,
gratefully lifting his eyes to heaven; “ Klitt-
berg lives; and as he intends remaining in the
East Indies, he sends an affidavit that will at
once put an end to this miserable suit. The
letter also contains a hundred-pound note,
intended for the preserver of his child’s life,
whom, as he says, both he and his wife re-
member daily in their prayers.”

For a moment no one spoke; all hearts
were too full of joy and thanksgiving to utter
a single word. Hedwig was the first to
break the silence; gently laying. her little
hand upon Mr. Gerard’s arm, and looking up
with her touching smile into his face, she
said: ‘‘ Well, are not miracles happening
every day?”

“Yes,” replied Frederika, rising from her
knees; for she had meantime sunk down in
the middle of a bed of mignonette to praise
God for his wonderful providence. Then
taking up the little prayer-book that happened
to be lying on the breakfast-table, she opened
it at a well-known place, and, glancing first
at Hedwig, without whom there could, per-
172 THE YOUNG GUEST.

haps, have been no such fortunate termina-
tion to the evil threatening the owners of
Bergstein, she read as follows: —

“When a guest thy house approaches,
Take him friendly by the hand ;
Lest an angel he may be,

Sent by God himself to thee,
Lead him ’mid thy household band !

“Many thus have oft unknowing
Angels bright as guests received ;
Blinded by material things,
Seeing not the shining wings,
Burdens only have perceived !

“No, whene’er a guest approaches,
Lowly though he be and poor,
View him rightly, — thou mayst see
He comes an angel unto thee,
Bringing blessings to thy door.

“ Art thou suffering from a burden ?
‘Wouldst thou aid from Heaven ask 2
He perchance may bring thee peace,
Cause thy sorrows all to cease.
Were not this an angel’s task 2

“ Therefore never stint thy greeting
‘When a stranger comes to thee:
Looking kindly in his face,
Trust in thine still let him trace ;
Think, he may an angel be!”
DSP

LEE



GREENGREEN.

A vemry, very long time ago, a wealthy count
dwelt in a magnificent castle overlooking a
beautiful garden, surrounded by orchards and
cultivated fields, and bordering on an immense
forest. The count had but two sons, of whom
the younger was his favorite, and all the stran-
gers who visited the castle, as well as the dwell-
ers therein, from the castellan to the lowest
stable-boy, loved little Wolfgang better than
his elder brother, although the latter, whose
name was Kurt, could ride better, shoot better,
and sing livelier songs than he, and was, be-
sides, of a more striking and commanding
appearance. Wolfgang was the living image
of his gentle mother, whose memory was still
held in the greatest honor, although her earthly
form had long lain mouldering in the castle
chapel. Had the boy not been by nature en-
176 GREENGREEN.

dowed with so excellent a disposition, his
father’s partiality, and his old nurse’s indul-
gence, would have ruined him, for no wish was
ever allowed to remain ungratified, and no de-
mand refused. He passed the greater part of
his time in the large garden behind the castle,
where there were beautiful beds of flowers,
leaping fountains, stone statues and vases, and
a great aviary, filled with thrushes, finches,
woodpeckers, parrots, and canary-birds; indeed,
he never wanted to come inside the house, even
in the evening, for he liked much better to
play with the stones and the flowers in the gar-
den than with the silver soldiers, the ivory
balls, or any other of the pretty toys in his
own room.

One evening he flung himself upon the grass,
and seemed as if he never could weary of gaz-
ing at the glorious stars bespangling the heay-
ens; but the nurse did not wish him to remain
longer in the garden, as the dew was falling,
and, calling him by the tenderest pet names,
she begged him to go with her into the castle,

“Come, my darling,” said she, ‘come in,
and I will show you a prettier star than any
GREENGREEN. 177

out here.” When afterwards called upon to
fulfil her promise, she took out of its case a
beautiful jewel, which had belonged to the late
countess, tied a string to it, and hung it in the
window, through which the full moon was just
then shining. Wolfgang was at first delighted
at seeing so beautiful a star so very near, and
lay long awake admiring it. When the old
nurse finally begged him to go to sleep, he
said: ‘* But I would like to have it over my
bed, just here on my pillow.”

She might have told him that stars were not
made to be handled, but her exceeding fond-
ness could deny him nothing, and so she hung
the ring directly over his head. When Wolf-
gang saw the string he seized it, and soon find-
ing his beautiful star to be nothing but a stone,
his pleasure was all gone. Turning his face to
the wall, he wept and wept until the silken pil-
low was wet through, and the old nurse feared
he would make himself ill. To pacify him, she
promised to take him the next day walking in
the meadow, and show him the stars by day-
light, as they lay upon the ground in the shape
of little white flowers, all ready when evening

%
178 GREENGREEN.

came to fly up again to heaven, and shine down
brightly upon all good little boys. Now this
was contrary to the count’s most strict com-
mands, for he had expressly forbidden the
nurse’ever to suffer Wolfgang to go outside the
garden wall; but, as the idea promised pleasure
and novelty, it quieted the child’s mind, and
he was soon fast asleep.

Of course the young count’s first demand on
the following day was the fulfilment of the
promise, which the old woman hoped he had
forgotten in his sleep. As the father was ab-
sent on a long journey, she finally ventured to
take the child to a meadow some distance from
the castle, where the star-flowers were just in
full bloom. Wolfgang gazed in wonder at the
little white blossoms, and took good care not
to pluck a single one, lest, when evening came,
some bright star should be wanting in the
heavens. The nurse sat down beside her dar-
ling in the tall grass, and, as she had rested
but little during the night, her weary eyes soon
closed in sleep. The boy kept very still so as
not to disturb his kind old nurse, but finding
this at length rather tedious, he rose and went
GREENGREEN,. 179

across the meadow until he came to a running
stream, which distinctly whispered to him:
“Will you go with me? Will you go with
me?”

“O yes, but where shall we go to?” said
Wolfgaug, running beside the water, that was
so bright and clear that he could see the merry
little fishes swimming about in it. He looked
back several times toward his old nurse, but
she was still asleep, and so he ran on without
thinking much about her. He did not feel
weary, because everything around him was so
new and so wonderful. His attention was first
attracted by a company of little blue-winged
gnats, gayly flying over the water, then by the
nest of a hedge-sparrow, hidden amid the long
grass, and again by tufts of the loveliest forget-
me-nots, growing beside the brook. All these
things were not to be found in the castle gar-
den, and the boy had never before been outside
the wall, as the father had a malignant foe
dwelling in the neighborhood, and hence lived
in constant fear lest the latter should harm his
darling, if the child ever fell in his way.

Time passed like a dream to the little boy.
180 GREENGREEN.

Finally the full moon rose, and its magic
light rendered everything even more beautiful
than before. The meadow had long been left
behind, and Wolfgang now found himself, he
scarcely knew how, in the wood, where he
heard such a rustling and such a whispering
he was quite bewildered. The only thing he
could understand was when the tree-tops bent
down toward him, and sundry little voices
cried out: “ Welcome! Welcome!”

Taking off his cap, he bowed on every side,
at the same time looking curiously round to
see where these very polite people could be
hiding themselves. He then perceived that
the voices proceeded from all sorts of little
creatures, chafers, birds, squirrels, bees, etc.,
which came forth to give him a friendly greet-
ing, and seemed not in the least afraid of him.
What with his loag ‘walk and the aroma of the
pines, he began to feel very sleepy. Unable
to take another step, he laid himself down
upon the moss and thought: “I will rest a
little, and then run as fast as I can back to
old Susan.” Wolfgang had hitherto been al-
ways accustomed to sleep in a soft bed with
GREENGREEN. 181°

silken hangings, and now he had nothing but
fallen leaves for a pillow, and the soft moon-
light streaming through the branches for a
covering, but he slept more soundly than he
had ever done in his life before, which cannot
be wondered at, as he had been a whole long
May day upon his little fect.

When he again opened his eyes, the sun
was shining over the tree-tops, and when the
leaves and branches moved in the morning
breeze, a thousand bright spots, like so many
little goldchafers, danced round him on the
turf. The dew-drops hanging from the blades
of grass surpassed in brilliancy the jewel in
his mother’s ring; but poor Wolfgang could
nof long think of the beauty surrounding him,
for he began to experience a sensation hitherto
entirely unknown to him,—that of hunger!
Feeling very anxious to find old Susan, he ran
as fast as he could along the brook, which he
fancied must of course be a good guide. But
in order to return to the meadow where the
star-flowers grew, he ought to have gone up
the brook, instead of which he followed it on

its downward course, and every step led him

16
a
182 GREENGREEN.

only more deeply into the forest. The way
became wilder, and more tangled, but ever
more and more beautiful: the tall oaks were
adorned with wreaths of clinging ivy, the wind-
anemones perfumed the shadiest recesses, and
the singing birds made the whole wood musi-
cal with their morning symphonies. ‘To all
this Wolfgang paid but little heed, as he was
very hungry. He did not know that the
red berries strewing the ground in such pro-
fusion were good to eat; he had always been
served with the most daintily prepared dishes,
or had eaten his fruit from silver vessels, and
of these there were none in the forest. Hence
he began to get quite out of humor with the
place that had before seemed so beautiful, and
he said: “I wish I were back again on the
meadow, or, better still, in our garden. When
I am a man, no one near me shall ever suffer
from hunger; it is too hard to bear, and spoils
all one’s pleasure.”

When he had run a considerable distance,
and still saw nothing of old Susan, he felt so
depressed that he sat down under a large oak
and began to weep most piteously. Suddenly
GREENGREEN. 1838

he felt something moving in the grass beside
his feet, and a queer little voice cried out quite
distinctly: “Rain! Rain!”

Looking down more closely, he perceived
a little tree-frog, in a bright-green jacket, hop-
ping away as fast as he could.

“ Hoho!” thought the boy, who just then
saw a great, dark cloud making its way up over
_ the tree-tops. ‘“‘ Now I call that a sensible little
animal ; I dare say he could show me the way
out of the wood.”

Lifting his cap from his head, he politely
greeted the little Jump-in-the-air, and said:
“Good Mr. Huntsman, will you please tell
me how I can find my way out of this wilder-
ness? I left my good old nurse sitting in the
meadow, and am nearly dead with hunger.”

“J do not think I can help you to find your
way, for I was never outside the wood in all
my life, and, what is more, I have no wish to
try anything beyond it, for I am sure no place
can be cooler and shadier than this.”

“Where did you learn the language of
men?” asked the young count, whom this one
day alone with nature and his own thoughts

a
184 GREENGREEN.

had already rendered much more sensible than
before.

“From my father,” replied the tree-frog.
“Once he ventured to the edge of the forest,
where his pretty colors looked quite charming
when contrasted with the dust by the wayside.
A wicked man caught him, and shut him up in
a glass box, which had only a few small holes in
the top to let in the fresh air. The poor fellow
had to content himself with that narrow home,
and prophesy concerning the weather; for you
must know that our family has the gift of fore-
knowledge on that point, and announce when
rain may be expected by precisely such a cry
as that through which I have just had the
honor of making your acquaintance. My fa-
ther finally succeeded in escaping from his
state of bondage, but during his long captiv-
ity he had learned the language of men, and
could tell many strange, almost incredible
things about that singular race of beings.
But here I am prating away, and you are
really suffering from hunger. Wait a moment,
and I will catch you a couple of flies or a good
fat spider.” .
GREENGREEN. 185

-O no, lam much obliged to you!” cried
Wolfgang, with a gesture of repugnance. “If
you can think of nothing better than that, I
fear I must die of hunger.”

The tree-frog nodded his head, and said:
“O yes, I ought to have remembered that
you foolish children of men do not appreciate
such delicate morsels. But why do you not
_ eat the fine strawberries growing here in such
profusion ? My father told me that you human
beings regard them as a sort of dainty.”

“ Are those strawberries ?’? asked Wolf-
gang, suddenly feeling a new interest in the
crimson berries. ‘There are strawberries in
my father’s garden, but they do not look like
these; they are much larger and finer.”

A trial was immediately made, and the
small, wild berries tasted to the young count
as strawberries had never tasted before. Hay-
ing soon satisfied his hunger, he felt quite
happy again. The tree-frog also found him
some wild honey, and a few nuts left from
some squirrel’s hoard of the previous winter,
for the little creature seemed to know every

nook and corner inthe whole wood, and
16*
%
186 GREENGREEN.

also to have taken a wonderful fancy to the
boy.

“J like to be with you,” said the young
count to the lively, good-natured animal; “ and
if you are willing, I will go a little piece with
you, and perhaps I may find my way out of the
forest. I will call you Greengreen ; that is the
name of my parrot at the castle!”

The two new acquaintances walked cheer-
fully along together, or rather, Wolfgang
walked, and the frog hopped and jumped from
one twig to another. Greengreen was not un-
grateful for the kind, friendly words which the
gentle boy addressed to him, and soon became
so fond of his companion that he would have
died to serve him. He showed him a small
cavern in which was a large store of dried fruit
and nuts, collected by a coal-burner who had
intended them for his own use during the win-
ter, but who, ere the winter came, had died in
the wood beside his coal-heaps. That was an
excellent thing for Wolfgang, for although he
and his friend Greengreen made every effort to
find their way out of the forest, days, weeks,
months passed, and the count’s son was still
GREENGREEN. 187

living in the depths of the forest, eating wild
honey and fruit, wearing torn clothes like a
beggar-boy, and associating with a poor little
tree-frog. For a long time he mourned over
his separation from his father, his brother, and
his old nurse, but he finally became reconciled
to his fate, and labored hard to render himself
as comfortable as possible under the circum-
stances. He made himself a swinging bed of
twisted branches, in which he slept soundly
during the warm weather, and when winter
came, he sheltered himself with Greengreen in
the cavern, which he had, during the summer
and autumn, furnished with a fresh supply of
provisions.

Greengreen knew the language of all the an-
imals in the forest, and employed his leisure in
imparting his knowledge to his companion, who
was thus enabled to hear the most wonderful
tales from the birds, the squirrels, the chafers,
and all the other creatures of the earth and air.
By degrees, Wolfgang made himself a suit of
clothes of the soft skins of the moles, which he
sometimes found dead in the forest. His own
garments had, of course, soon become too short

%
188 GREENGREEN.

and too narrow, besides which, they were all
soiled and rent with climbing up trees and ly-
ing on the ground. Sharp thorns served as
needles, and his own worn-out stockings as
thread. No one would have recognized in this
little wild-man of the woods the once spoiled
and petted darling of a noble house.

By the following spring, he perfectly com-
prehended the language of the birds as they
sat singing on the trees, and also all the fishes
said as they swam about in the brook, although
we generally believe this latter animal to be
quite dumb. He listened to the sly talk of the
foxes, the weasels, and other wild creatures,
and he learned more wonderful things from
them than could be found in any fairy-book in
the whole world. The little chafer in the moss,
the slugs in the bark of the trees, the butter-
flies always on the wing, and the birds that
every year went over the sea to visit foreign
lands, had each some marvellous adventure
to tell.

Thus lived Wolfgang during many a long.
year, until he grew up to be a tall, fine-looking
youth. It is true he could neither read, write,
GREENGREEN. 189

nor cipher, and the tiniest school-boy might
have put him to shame in any of these things ;
but he, nevertheless, knew and understood
much that could not be found in any book.
He was always cheerful and light-hearted, but
his faithful Greengreen became every year
graver and more thoughtful.

“Tt is not right,” said he to himself, “ that
my young friend should pass his whole life in
a lonely forest; if I could only help him to find
his way out to his father, his brother, and his
old nurse! How delighted they would be to
see him!”

He was now often whole days absent from
Wolfgang’s side, searching the forest up and
down, nor did he rest until he was finally so
fortunate as to find a footpath leading from the
wood into the open country. Not yet content,
he ventured out through the dewy fields, until,
with unspeakable exertions and great, danger,
he reached the castle of which his friend had
so often spoken. When in the garden, he saw
Wolfgang’s brother, Kurt, dressed in deep
mourning, and coming down the walk, accom-
panied by a sinister-looking man, his confiden-
190 GREENGREEN.

tial valet. Hiding himself behind a rose-bush,
he overheard their conversation as they passed ;
and what do you think they said?

The old count had died but a short time be-
fore, and had left a will, according to which
his younger son was to be his heir, and the
castle and all it contained were to be kept ten
years, in the hope that Wolfgang would return.
Kurt was not to take possession until the expi-
ration of that time, and meanwhile, neither
money nor trouble was to be spared in seeking
the lost one through all the neighboring coun-
tries, The pair were talking over this condi-:
tion, and the young count said, angrily:
“‘ Wherefore so many restrictions and delays?
Wolfgang is dead, and will never return to
cross my path.”

‘Let me manage that,” said the valet, with
a wicked laugh. ‘‘ We will change the will so
that you will only have to wait one year, instead
of ten, before you take possession ; I can imi-
tate handwritings, and skilfully loosen seals.
None of all the messengers whom we will send
will ever find your brother; that shall be my
care, of course on condition that I receive a
GREENGREEN. 10d

handsome compensation,” added he, grinning
maliciously.

The young count nodded assentingly.

Greengreen had heard enough, and could
hardly wait until the two charming compan-
ions had passed on, to retrace his steps as fast
as he could, and bring back his friend to the
inheritance his father had destined for him.
He hopped away and took not a moment’s rest
until he had informed Wolfgang of a portion
of this wonderful adventure, thinking it best to
say nothing about the feelings with which his
brother regarded him.

The count’s son was grieved to hear of his
father’s death, but was also loath to leave his
dear Greengreen.

“ Well,” said the latter, deeply moved, “ for
your dear sake I could even make up my mind
to leave my beautiful, peaceful home. Be-
sides, I must show you the way to your father’s
castle, and there you will surely give me some
shady retreat in the garden, where you can
come and visit me whenever you feel like hay-
ing a friendly talk. Who knows but that I
may be of use to you?”
192 GREENGREEN.

Greengreen thought of the greedy Kurt and
his treacherous valet, but prudently refrained :
from mentioning the scene he had witnessed
from behind the rose-bush. And thus, with-
out further delay, the two went on their way.
They were more than three days in reaching
the edge of the forest, but finally came to the
open fields, and in sight of the castle, which
looked as stately and beautiful as on the day
when Wolfgang went with old Susan to see the
star-flowers on the meadow. Greengreen hid
himself under the well-remembered rose-bush,
which his friend closely observed, that he
might know it again. Then, bidding farewell
to his devoted little attendant, Wolfgang en-
tered the castle without meeting with any
opposition, although the servants looked in
wonder at his singular attire.

He found his brother seated at table with a
numerous company of invited guests. Kurt
grew pale as he saw the handsome youth ap-
proaching him. He could not but observe the
striking likeness the stranger bore to the pic-
ture of the countess, hanging before him on the
wall.
GREENGREEN. 1938

“Brother!” eried Wolfgang, springing for-
ward to greet the playmate of his childhood ;
but Kurt by no means shared the delight of the
returned wanderer. Leaping to his feet, he
seized his sword, and, had he not been re-
strained by the presence of so many witnesses,
he would have forcibly driven his brother from
the castle.

As it was, he controlled himself sufficiently
to say: “If you be indeed the long-looked-for,
long-lost son of this house, you are welcome,
but you must first prove such to be the fact;
we ought not to trust land and people to your
keeping upon the sole testimony of your un-
aided word. You do not look much like the
heir of a count; where is your retinue?”

This was, of course, mere falsehood and cun-
ning, but Wolfgang, suspecting nothing, simply
related his wonderful story. The young Count
Kurt exchanged a stolen glance with his con-
fidant, and then said: “Your story does not
sound very probable, and, much as I would
like to believe you, I must still doubt that you
are indeed the real Count Wolfgang. Our fa-

ther, who alone could decide this difficult ques-
17
194 GREENGREEN.

tion, is unfortunately no more, as also the
old nurse, Susan, who died of grief at having
lost the child intrusted to her care. You
must then give us some sign by which we may
recognize you as our dear, lost brother, and be
justified in giving you the inheritance. Mean-
time, you will be our welcome and honored
guest.”

Wolfgang was then placed beside his brother
at the table, which was covered with the most
savory dishes and costly wines. He, however,
ate nothing but a little fruit and some white
bread; instead of wine, he filled his golden
goblet with water. When the guests saw that,
they were amazed, and the wicked confidant
murmured in a low tone, as if speaking to
himself: “That is surely no count, but the
son of some woodman or coal-burner; he
would introduce a nice sort of living among
musi?

The guests, who but a few moments before
had been much pleased with the young man’s
open countenance and manners, now began to
regard him as an adventurer and impostor.

Wolfgang was very glad when the meal was
GREENGREEN. 195

over; he hastened as soon as he possibly could
into the garden, and told his friend Green-
green all that had occurred, and what was
required of him.

After a little conversation, Wolfgang said :
“ There is no good drinking-water on the whole
estate, and at midsummer even the deep well
in the castle court is dried up. If 1 could
remedy this difficulty, my brother would at
once see that I am no impostor, but a real
father to my people.”

Greengreen agreed with him that this should
be the case, but he inwardly feared that Kurt
would not allow himself to be convinced on
any terms. Meantime, Wolfgang, who un-
derstood the language of all the animals
both on and under the earth, went to a
secluded part of the garden, thrust his walk-
ing staff into the ground and turned up the
soil; he soon uncovered a long earth-worm.
Begging the timid creature not to be alarmed,
he politely asked: ‘Is there any good, clear
water in this vicinity ?”

“O yes,” replied the worm, with a courteous
bend of its long neck, “if you dig down very
196 GREENGREEN-

deep behind that statue of Justice, you will
find most excellent drinking-water.”

“Thank you!” cried Wolfgang, rejoiced.
Then replacing the soil, and treading it down
neatly with his feet, he went back into the
eastle, first stopping by the way to tell his
faithful friend the result of his efforts.

On the following day, Wolfgang led his
brother and the guests still remaining in the
castle into the garden, where he pointed out
to the inspector of fountains the spot indi-
cated by the earth-worm. The inspector, as
well as Kurt, laughed in their sleeves, for
both knew, or thought they knew, that there
was nota single drop of good drinking-water
to be found within many miles; the old count
had made several attempts to procure this
blessing for his people, but all had been in
vain. However, the laborers were set at work
and began to dig. This operation lasted so
long that Kurt felt more and more assured
he was about to have a great triumph, and
could now hold his brother up to public ex-
ecration as an impostor. But suddenly a
stream of pure, clear, excellent water gushed up
GREENGREEN. 197

through the stratum of sand and gravel, which
the men had finally reached. A ery of joy
burst forth from all the bystanders except from
Kurt himself, who scoffingly said: ‘‘ What
good will water do us? we had plenty of that
before ; now to find a gold-mine for the people
would indeed be a worthy task for their future
lord.”

The very persons who but a moment before
had rejoiced at the beneficent gift made them
by their youthful lord began to murmur and
say: “* Yes, we want bread; if he can aid
us to prosperity and plenty, we will honor
and obey him as our rightful ruler.”

Wrapped in melancholy thought, Wolfgang
walked up and down the castle garden. It
suddenly occurred to him that he had once
heard from a bird of passage that was flying
‘over the forest, of a little animal called a sillk-
worm that lived in some more southern coun-
try. It enclosed itself in a thick covering,
made of fine threads many feet long, of which
was spun a beautiful, glossy material called
silk, whose value was equal to that of gold,

a pound of silk in some countries being worth

17*
*
198 GREENGREEN.

a pound of gold. The little bird had also told

him that the silk-worm could be transplanted

to other lands, and must be fed on the leaves
“of the white mulberry.

After consulting with his faithful friend,
Wolfgang went back to the castle, the court
of which was filled with a concourse of people
still in doubt whether to regard him as 4&
benefactor or a vile impostor.

He quietly stepped forth among them, and
promised to help them to prosperity and plenty.
Their loud cries and vivats soon attracted the
attention of Kurt, who came out to see what
was the matter now. Wolfgang meantime
unfolded his plan of introducing the manu-
facture of silk into the country, but this soon
put an end to the jubilant shouts of the crowd,
who thought they were to become rich with-
out any trouble on their part, and who had
hoped that the count was about to throw
money among them by the handful. They
murmured as loudly as they had before re-
joiced. The treacherous elder brother observed
this with delight, and said: “ There is an old
saying that an immense treasure lies buried
GREENGREEN. 199

not far from this castle; if you will find it,
I and all my people will cheerfully acknowl-
edge you as the rightful head of our house.”

“Yes, yes,” cried the grasping crowd, “it
shall be so; and one half the treasure must
be given to us.”

Wolfgang turned away in sadness, and seek-
ing his friend under the rose-bush, said:
“Come, Greengreen, let us go back to our
forest; no one here loves or trusts me. I
have found nothing among my fellow-crea-
tures but selfishness and cunning, and feel
much more at home among the wild crea-
tures of the wood than I do here.”

But Greengreen replied: “No, no, let us
wait awhile; you have something better to do
than to dream away your life in the cool
shade beside the prattling brook. Your father
intended the inheritance for you because he
could uot trust your brother; you have no
right to reject the responsibility thus laid
upon your shoulders until you have made
every vightful effort to fulfil your father’s de-
sires and intentions. As for the treasure the
greedy populace have asked from you, give
200 GREENGREEN.

yourself no uneasiness on that score; it must
either lie under the ground, and then the
worms can find it, or it must be hidden in
some old wall, and then the bats will surely
know all about it. Should it be concealed
in a hollow tree, we must ask the birds; but
leave that all to me, I will have no trouble.”

Thus saying, away hopped the faithful little
tree-frog.

Wolfgang asked for three days in which to
find the treasure, but on the morning of the
second day, as he still lay in bed, he heard a
well-known voice calling under his window:
“Rain! Rain!’ The young count rose im-
mediately, and saw Greengreen climbing up
the castle wall by the help of a long vine which
grew round the casement. He assisted him
into his room that they might talk together
undisturbed, but at the same time begged him
never again to venture so near the castle, lest
he should fall into hostile hands.

But Greengreen replied: “ For your sake I
would cheerfully endure captivity, even death
itself. I bring you good news. Listen! An
old owl told me that the treasure your brother
GREENGREEN. 201

and all the people are so anxious to find is
hidden in that old tower standing all alone be-
side the garden gate, but that there is another
legend connected with it, which says that the
fall of that tower foretells misery and ruin to
the whole country. Now, to find the treasure
the old tower must come down.”

“Well,” said Wolfgang, “it is very evident
that it must soon fall from its own decay, and
if it fall in the service of truth, and the cause
of justice, the result is in the hands of that
Great Power which rules the destinies of
men.”

After talking awhile with Greengreen, the
young count carried him back to the rose-bush
on his own hand, lest some of the servants
might see the little tree-frog on his way, and
injure him.

On the third day, Wolfgang called together
his brother Kurt, the late count’s executors,
and the heads of the community, and went
with them to the old tower, which had never
before looked so gray and ghostlike as on that
bright June morning. As they went toward
the gate, they were followed by a large con-

t
202 GREENGREEN.

course of people. Wolfgang bade the work-
men take down the old walls. But then arose
an angry discussion; all were anxious to have
the treasure, but many remembered and dread-
ed the prophecy of evil threatening the land in
case the old tower should be destroyed. Wolf-
gang counselled the people to be content with
what they already possessed, and to render
justice to the son of their late lord without
trying any dangerous experiments. But they
were all intent upon the treasure, and applaud-
ed Kurt when he made the following proposi-
tion: ‘Let him destroy the tower,” said he,
“and let him take the responsibility upon him-
self; if he does not find the treasure, let him
die, and be buried beneath the ruins he has
himself made!”

Down came the first stones, and soon the
walls fell asunder. Through a large opening
was seen a quantity of gold and silver. Wolf
gang ordered the men to gather the treasure
together, and then dividing it into two halves,
he gave one to his brother, and distributed the
other among the people, who exalted his name
to the very skies.
GREENGREEN. 203

Kurt looked on in silent rage; even his
brother’s generosity did not succeed in sham-
ing him. With anger in his heart, he returned
to the castle, which, bound as he: was by his
own agreement, he had no longer any pretext
for keeping from its rightful owner. But he
had determined never to yield to his brother.
Calling his cunning valet, he held a secret con-
sultation with him, from which he came forth
quite radiant and joyous, greeting Wolfgang
with apparent affection as his brother, and the
ruler of his father’s domains. Accompanying
him to his chamber, he gave him a small
branch of wild-roses, saying: “‘ Knowing that
the happiest portion of your life was passed in
the forest, I sent to your former home to ob-
tain this remembrance of pleasant days now
past. My equerry has just returned with this
prize.”

Wolfgang took the branch and was about to
lift it to his face to enjoy the well-remembered
perfume, but he had lived too long with nature,
and was too intimately acquainted with her
secrets and her loveliness, not to be aware that
a fine white dust lay strewn upon the crimson

¢
204 GREENGREEN.

petals. Smiling sadly, he laid the branch upon
a marble table standing near. A moment af
ter, a wasp came flying through the open win-
dow ; it lighted a single instant upon the wild
rose, and then fell dead upon the floor. Wolf-
gang silently took up the poisoned branch (for
Kurt had in fact strewed the leaves with a
deadly poison, which, had his brother breathed,
he would have fallen dead upon the spot), and
flung it into the small wood-fire blazing on
the hearth. Kurt observed the action with
increasing wrath, and left the room intent
on vengeance. Having reached his own apart-
ment, he broke forth into the most savage
curses, and his valet had some difficulty in
reducing his rage within the bounds of pru-
dence.

Greengreen, who chanced to be lying under
the window, heard Kurt’s angry words, but
not the confidant’s half-whispered reply; and
yet the latter was to him much the most im-
portant part of the conversation. Soon after,
a window was opened, and a spider came
running out of the room down the wall.
Quick as thought, Greengreen snapped at the
little creature, and caught it.
GREENGREEN. 205

“O, do not kill me!” cried the spider,
trembling with terror. ‘I am so young, and
not yet fat enough to make a good meal for
you. In the room above there is but little
for me to live on, only swords, spears, and
coats of mail. You will surely be able to
find a much better supper than I would make
you.”

“Well, you shall not die this time,” said
Greengreen, without, however, loosing his hold
upon the trembling captive; “but one good
turn deserves another. JI want amusement,
and caught your tinyship more for pastime
than to satisfy hunger. If you can tell me
anything new, something that no one else in
the whole castle knows but yourself, you shall
continue your evening walk unharmed.”

Then the little spider told word for word
all that Kurt and the wicked valet had said
together in the room above, namely: That
Count Wolfgang must be murdered that very
night; the envious brother was to go him-
self into his chamber, and kill him while he
slept.

Greengreen hastened to his friend to tell
18
t
206 GREENGREEN.

him this sad news. On the way he met a
noisy crowd of drunken men and scolding
women.

“The young count is a sorcerer,” cried
the latter. “His gold has brought nothing
but misery among a happy and contented
people. The men sit in the taverns, and will
no longer labor: he has only made us wretched
with his deceitful gift.”

But the men laughed and said: “ His gold
is good, but he must get us more; it gives
him no trouble. We have no objection to
sorcerers of that sort!”

When Wolfgang heard this, he covered. his
face a moment with his hands; then turning
to Greengreen he said: “ Let us go!”

The pair went through the garden into the
meadow where Wolfgang had of old left his
sleeping nurse. The stars were this time
shining bright and clear in the heavens. The
friends walked on and on; they did not see
how by degrees heavy storm-clouds rolled
up from the horizon, and hung above the
castle, for they were soon in the dense forest,
in that beloved wood which had so long
GREENGREEN. 207

been Wolfgang’s happy home, and which so
continued to be until the day of his death.
Greengreen was not in truth very sorry that
all had turned out as it had, for of course
he could not feel so perfectly content in any
other spot on the face of the earth. The
thrushes and finches sang their sweetest songs
of welcome, the glowworms got up an illumi-
nation, the violets and honeysuckles gave forth
their most delicious perfumes, and merry little
squirrels performed the liveliest ballet-dances
and neck-breaking feats of agility in honor of
the returned wanderers.

The clouds above the castle became ever
thicker and darker, until the pent-up storm
burst forth in all its fury. When the morn-
ing broke, the beautiful castle was a mere
heap of smoking ruins, beneath which Kurt
slept the sleep of death.





peas GIET.

Lone, long ago, Mrs. Teichmann; who had
been a widow about five years, lived in a small
cottage surrounded by a large wood. She had
but little intercourse with the inhabitants of
the neighboring village, and devoted her whole
life to the support and education of her three
children. Her husband, who had once been a
most successful merchant, had, toward the
close of his life, been unfortunate in business,
and had only saved enough from the wreck of
his property to purchase the little house and
farm where he lived for some time with his
family, very peacefully but very simply. A
man and one maid were the only assistants in
the labors of the field and the household. The
little cow-house was in an almost ruinous con-
dition, and the walls of the cottage looked as if
time, the weather, and the winds had been

a
212 ODA’S GIFT.

playing some sad pranks with their decaying
timbers; but, for all that, peace and content-
ment dwelt within, for love ruled the house-
hold and united its members.

The good parents had but one source of re-
gret, and that was that there was no school in
the vicinity, where their children might enjoy
the educational advantages to which their birth
and capacities entitled them. The father was
so much occupied in the cultivation of the
farm, which was now: his only pecuniary re-
source, that he had but little time to spare for
the tuition of his children.

Before long, however, the sole care of their
instruction fell upon the mother. Myr. Teich-
mann died after a short illness, and from the
moment that the family lost their natural pro-
tector, one misfortune followed another. A
wealthy, but hard-hearted man, to whom the
father owed a considerable sum, of which he
had hitherto paid a portion yearly, threatened
the widow with prosecution, and forced her to
sell her best cow and the most valuable articles
still remaining of her furniture. The servants
were dismissed, for the poor woman no longer
ODA’S GIFT. 213

possessed the means necessary for the cultiva-
tion of the farm, and thus the little family
gradually fell into real want and misery.

Dick, the eldest boy, was twelve years old,
Minna, ten, and Otto (the darling of the
household), not quite eight; what was to be-
come of the poor children, without father or
friends to take care of them ?

Otto was rather a plain little lad, but so
good-natured, obedient, and industrious, that
he could not have failed to make friends if he
had only had the opportunity. He was his
mother’s pet, and the best beloved of her heart.
Dick was also a good boy, and by no means
lazy ; but then he loved to tease, and was always
playing some trick or other upon the younger
children. It is true he intended no harm, but
he was not the less disagreeable with his con-
tinual pranks, which usually ended in annoy-
ing or distressing the other members of the
family.

The little sister did all she could to aid her
mother in the housekeeping; she was a steady,
careful child, but rather too averse to giving;
and when a beggar by chance presented him-

4
214 ODA’S GIFT.

self at the cottage-door, she could dismiss him
in no very gentle terms. ‘‘ We have so little
for ourselves,’”’ she would sometimes say, “ you
must go to people who have more to spare.”
If Dick happened to be also at home, he could
not always resist the temptation of playing
some trick upon the poor creature, but then
would slip away and secretly abstract a bit of
bread to give him when Minna was not by to
scold.

Otto, on the contrary, could never see or
hear of a want in a fellow-being without feel-
ing the greatest desire to relieve it, and even
at a time when his mother had nothing but the
merest necessities of life, he one day begged
with tears in his eyes to be allowed to give his
woollen neckcloth to a poor child he had seen
cutting wood in the forest, and really suffering
from the cold; he was himself willing to go the
whole winter without any warm covering for
his throat.

Mrs. Teichmann could not withstand his en-
treaties, but she had the good sense to permit
him to carry out his own plan of self-sacrifice,
and all winter long he wore nothing round his
ODA’S GIFT. 215

neck but a thin cotton handkerchief. Also,
when he had begged his mother to give his
supper to a beggar, he was obliged to do with-
out his share, but she gave him only the ten-
derer glances, and dwelt long upon the good
Otto’s bread and milk had done to the poor
beggar, and how he had enjoyed it. That re-
paid_the child for the hunger he of course
could not help fecling, but it also made him
careful of making promises, of which some
children are so prodigal, without afterwards
having the strength of mind to keep them.

Dick, on such occasions, teased his brother
no little, but never failed to offer him part of
his own dinner or supper, as the case might be,
which was of course not accepted; Minna, on
the contrary, looked at Otto almost angrily
that, he had given away his food with so little
thought, and ate up her share as fast as she
could, lest she should be asked to aid in bear-
ing the consequences of her brother’s gener-
osity.

Thus had passed several years from the time
of the father’s death; the roof was evidently
sinking from month to month, and although

4
216 ODA’sS GIFT.

the mother and Dick did all they could to prop
it up, it was plain they could not long prevent
its falling. The condition of the cow-house
and shed was equally bad; the posts were all
decayed, the planks worn by the weather, and
the locks out of order; indeed, there was no
longer any reason for patching them up, for a
couple of sheep and a flock of chickens were
the sole inhabitants of the once populous farm-
yard. Dick took care of the garden, so that
there should be no want of potatoes, turnips,
and fruit; and the sheep furnished milk, and
wool from which Minna spun warm stockings ;
she could spin quite well, and was also learning
to sew. Otto had no especial occupation, but
he could cut spoons and similar articles out of
wood, which he sold from time to time to some
passing wayfarer, who was often able to dispose
of them at considerable profit. The dear little
boy would willingly have labored for the sup-
port of mother, brother, and sister, but he was
still too young, and could only gather berries
and mushrooms in the wood. One day he fell
upon the idea of setting traps for the birds, and
thus procuring a nice little stew for his moth-
er’s dinner.
ODA’S GIFT. 217

The first time he attempted to put this
plan in execution, he started very early in
the morning, with his bit of brown bread in
‘his pocket. But as he came out of the door,
his own especial pet, a large black cock with
a crimson comb, came flying to meet him,
having apparently been sitting on the fence,
waiting for his young master. Cheerfully di-
viding his brown bread with “ King Comb,”
as the cock was named, he picked up a small
basket and a bowl or two standing near, and
went gayly off into the wood.

The morning was clear and beautiful; the
breeze blew softly among the tree-tops, and
thousands of birds sang joyfully round the
little wanderer. He found berries and mush-
rooms in great abundance, and his basket and
bowls were soon filled. Otto placed his treas-
ures under a hazel-bush, and went down into
the hollow where he had set the snare the
night before. A single yellow-hammer was
the only prize ; the little singer’s yellow breast
was cold and stiff, while all the wood around
rang with the joyous carols of his kind. Otto

surveyed his booty with more pain than pleas-
19
%
218 . ODA’s GIFT.

ure; he felt so sorry that his cunning had
cost the poor little creature its life. He was
thus thoughtfully standing with the dead bird
in his hand, when he was startled by hearing
a faint sigh, which seemed to proceed from a
clump of trees close by. He looked round,
and saw a little girl dressed in rags, lying on
the ground, with her hands over her face,
and weeping bitterly. Otto quickly laid aside
the bird to help the child, whom he thought
had fallen over a stump and hurt herself.

“ Poor child!”’ said he, compassionately ;
“you have had a bad fall,—there, take my
hand, and I will help you up.”

But the little girl only sobbed the louder,
and drew her torn kerchief over her head,
as if she did not wish any one to see her.
Otto talked to her gently and mildly, as he
well knew how; the little stranger gradu-
ally became more quiet, and finally turned
her face to her young consoler. But what
a face it was! How Otto started when it
met his gaze! He had never before beheld
anything half so horrible. Her hair was nearly
white, and stood straight up on end above
ODA’S GIFT. 219

a great, broad forehead, in the middle of
which was a wide mouth, with dark red lips,
while the eyes were placed below the flat
nose in a pointed chin. The boy was stricken
with horror, and would at once have fled, had
not the little girl’s clear, brown eyes looked
at him so humbly and mournfully as she said:
“ Alas, how unhappy Iam! No one will take
pity on me, because I am so frightfully ugly ;
and yet that is no fault of mine!”

Otto stood as if rooted to the spot; his re-
pugnance gradually giving way to pity.

“How can I help you?” asked he, step-
ping nearer to lift the child from the ground.

“T am so hungry,” sobbed she, ‘“ so very
hungry and so thirsty, but I cannot walk a
step to get me some berries or some fresh
water from the brook.”

Otto now for the first time observed that
both her feet were deformed, and then ran
off to where he had left his berries.

“There, take these,’ said he, placing a
bowl of berries before the little one, and add-
ing to it the remaining half of his bread.
He was glad to see her enjoy her breakfast,

4
220 ODA’S GIFT.

but could not help shuddering whenever she
opened that frightful mouth.

“T would like to wash my face,” said the
child, after a pause. Otto took the empty
bowl, and brought some water from the brook.
The little girl’s face looked no prettier for the
washing, but her eyes were less sad than be-
fore, and were no longer filled with tears.
The good lad felt quite pleased.

“ What is your name?” asked he.

“ Oda,” replied the child. “ Ah, I used to
be such a happy child! I lived in a castle
made of pure gold, crystal, and precious stones,
and had so many dear little playmates, for my
mother was a good fairy. But she had a bitter
enemy that was always trying to vex and in-
jure her. Alas! she succeeded but too well.
One day when, contrary to my mother’s ex-
press command, I had climbed over the garden
wall, the wicked fairy seized me, and made me
as ugly and miserable as you now see me.
She then set me down with a scornful laugh
at my mother’s door. When the latter re-
turned in the evening to her palace, and found
me weeping on the steps, she did not recog-

_—
ODA’Ss GIFT. 221

nize me as her child, and commanded her
attendants to take me away, as she could not
bear such an ugly object in her sight. Finally,
however, she took pity on me, and suffered me
to enter the palace, but it was not until the
whole house and garden had been searched
in vain, that she believed me to be her Oda.
Abandoning herself to the most violent grief,
she went every morning to her wicked neigh-
bor to induce her to release me from this
cruel enchantment. After the third visit, she
returned home somewhat consoled, but still
very sad; she kissed me, and then brought
me to this lonely wood, where I have been
during many weary hours. I am afraid she
has ceased to love me, because I am so very
ugly; and now I must die of hunger in this
forest.’

“Ono,” said Otto, deeply moved, “ a mother
never ceases to love her child, even if it be
ugly, as I know from myself. Do not distress
yourself, poor Oda; I will carry you home in
my arms, that is, to my mother, who is so
- Kind and good that she will let you live with

us, and feed you as long as we ourselves have
19#
222 ODA’S GIFT.

anything to eat, for you must know that we
are poor, very poor. But for all that, you
shall not die of hunger, poor little girl, only
do not cry any more.”

“OQ no,” said Oda, mournfully, “that can-
not be. My mother told me when she kissed
me good by, not to leave this spot, let what
might happen, and I will not again be disobe-
dient. If I had never been so, and had never
left our garden, I should not now be so un-
happy. No, dear little boy, go home, and leave
me to my fate; ifmy mother no longer loves
me, I do not care to live.”

A fresh flood of tears here choked the child’s
utterance. Otto had listened with great sym-
pathy, and could not now restrain his own
tears.

“You do not know how you grieve me, poor
Oda!” said he, gently, at the same time gather-
ing together some moss to make her a more
comfortable resting-place. “If I can do noth-
ing else, I can at least come every day to see
you, and bring you berries and fresh water.
Do not be so sad; your mother cannot surely
have forsaken you; no good mother ever for-
ODA’S GIFT. 223

sakes her child. But you are right in wishing
to lie quietly here until she comes for you; I
will catcly no birds in this part of the. wood,
that they may sing round you, and keep you
from feeling lonely when I cannot be with you.
May I not bring my sister to see you?”

“No, tell no one anything about me,” said
the ugly child, but so gently and mildly that
she no longer seemed so frightful to the little
boy, who shook her hand heartily, as he bade
her good by. It was high noon, and time for
Otto to go home, or else his mother might be
anxious about him.

He left the wood reluctantly, and so ab-
sorbed in thinking about the poor little girl,
that he nearly forgot his bird, his bowls, and
his basket. Dinner was on the table when he
arrived. He only ate the half of his share,
although he had had nothing but a few berries
for his breakfast, having given all his bread to
King Comb and the ugly child. He kept one
of the baked apples and a little piece of meat to
take to the deserted girl on the following morn-
ing, and then felt so happy that he was gay as
a lark all the rest of the day, and bore Dick’s
teasing with the most smiling equanimity.

93
224. ODA’S GIFT.

A whole month passed away, during which
Otto never ceased his constant care over the
fairy-child, and that, too, without any one’s ob-
serving anything unusual in his conduct. He
fed, consoled, and amused Oda to the best of
his ability, and became so accustomed to her
ugly face, that he at length rejoiced when he
saw it lying quietly and peacefully on the bed
of soft moss and dry leaves he had made for
her.

Oda had once said, “I brought a plaything
here with me from home,” and had shown her
faithful friend a little wooden box; but the chil-
dren had never played with it, for Otto had
always had something to tell or to ask, and the
time they passed together fled only too rapidly
away.

Meanwhile, the supply of food at the cottage
had gradually been growing less and less, until
the mother could scarcely find enough to feed
her children. Otto also did not bring home so
many berries and mushrooms, as the season
gradually advanced, and he caught as few
birds as possible, for he knew that their songs
were the poor fairy-child’s favorite entertain-
ODA’S GIFT. 225

ment. Notwithstanding all this, he never
failed to take Oda something, even if he went
without food himself. He never let her know
that he was depriving himself for her sake;
but the observant child noticed Otto’s meagre
cheeks, and heard his half-suppressed sigh
when he brought her a potato, or a little fish
he had caught in the brook, and his mother had
cooked especially for him. Oda felt very sorry
for her kind friend, and in order to show him
her gratitude, asked him to bring a book when
he came, and she would read to him, or teach
him to read himself. Several volumes were
found among the remnants of the father’s ef-
fects, and they were not missed when the little
boy took them to his fairy friend, whom, in
spite of her ugliness, he loved more dearly
every day, until he finally came to think no
more about her appearance.

But King Comb, Otto’s beloved cock, fared
the worst in the general scarcity, for when the
quantity of food diminished from meal to meal,
and Otto was obliged to share his small portion
with the little girl in the wood, the cock had
nothing but seeds which his young master
226 ODA’S GIFT,

found in the forest. This distressed the good
lad greatly, for he had himself raised the cock
from a tiny chicken; but then he felt still
greater compassion for poor Oda, who was sep-
arated from her mother, and far away from her
beautiful home, and yet was so mild and gen-
tle, so resigned to her hard fate. Had the
fairy indeed cast her off for ever? Otto could
not believe it.

One morning, the mother said, with tears in
her eyes: “My dear children, I have nothing
in the house for you to eat, my shelves are en-
tirely bare. I will say nothing of my own
weakness, arising from our long want of suffi-
cient food, but you really require some sub-
stantial nourishment. How would it be, Min-
na, if we were to kill our last sheep? It now
gives but very little milk, and we have wool
enough to last us during the coming winter.
That sheep is your especial property; your
father gave it to you, and I will not have it
killed without your consent; but only think,
my child, how long its flesh would nourish
us!”

We already know that Minna was very
155

i

0. AMET aa

+



ODAS GIFT.
ODA’S GIFT. 227

averse to giving. She began to weep and
make the most bitter lamentations over the
sacrifice that was asked from her; she loved
the creature so dearly, and would surely never
know another happy hour if she were no longer
to see it running to meet her when she went to
its pen or to the pasture-land.

The mother looked sadly and reproachfully
at her little daughter, but she only said: “ My
child, you shall keep what is your own, but you
can never feel any real pleasure in any posses-
sion, if they who stand nearest to you are not
dearer to your heart than any other earthly
object.”

Otto had, during this speech, slipped out of
the room; he beckoned Dick to follow him,
and then catching his beloved King Comb, he
tearfully kissed him for the last time, tenderly
stroked down his shining feathers, and then,
turning away his face, gave him to his brother
to kill. When he brought his still bleeding
pet to his mother, he had, by a powerful effort,
dried his eyes, and even attempted to smile.
Minna slipped away, filled with shame, but wild
Dick buried his face on his mother’s shoulder,
228 ODA’S GIFT.

and sadly said: “It is all my fault that poor
Otto has to lose his pet, for if I had not driven
our last cow so fast among the stones and
stumps, where she broke her leg, we should
not probably have fallen into such a miserable
condition. I was very sorry for my misdeed
at the time, but now I doubly repent it.
Can you, then, still love me when I have
brought such sorrow upon you? But believe
me, mother, from this hour I intend to cure
the faults that have so distressed you; only
do not lose patience with me; I do really
intend to be better in future.”

The mother caressed her wild and reckless,
yet good-hearted son, but Otto received the
tenderest kiss, and her heart blessed him with
the most fervent good wishes. The cock was
cooked and made a most excellent soup; not
a single drop, however, passed Otto’s lips, and,
making some pretext or other, he left the
table where his mother, brother, and sister
sat with downcast eyes and sad hearts. The
portion which Mrs. Teichmann had set aside
for him was not long after taken to the for-
saken fairy-child. The walk in the bright
ODA’S GIFT. 229

sunlight, under the fresh green trees, and
the peace resting everywhere on the face of
nature, quieted him, and when he saw how.
his little friend enjoyed the nourishing broth
and the tender white meat, and received her
heartfelt thanks for his kindness, he felt al-
most joyful, and would willingly have again
sacrificed his pretty King Comb, to procure
for the poor little girl the refreshment she
so greatly needed.

The children talked long together; and it
was not until near evening that Otto started
to return to his home.

“ Otto,”? said Oda, as she gave her hand to
bid good by, “we have never yet found time
to look into my little box; and just now when
you have done me so much good with your
excellent broth, I would like to afford you a
pleasure in return. Take the box home with
you, and set the little things in it out on a
table. Will you not accept my gift? It is
all I have to offer.”

Otto was very unwilling to deprive the
child of her only toy, but he could not re-

fuse her entreaty, so he placed the box, which
20
230 ODA’S GIFT.

looked exactly like those containing a village,
a farm-yard, or a garden, given to good chil-
dren on their birthdays, in his pocket, and
with a light heart went home through the
lonely and darkening wood.

The mother and the elder children sat to-
gether in the little parlor. All were sad;
the mother, because she did not know what
was to become of herself and her children;
Dick, because he felt remorse for his past
recklessness; and Minna, because she was
ashamed of her avarice. A small lamp was
dimly burning on the table, and the autumn
wind was threatening the tottering cottage
walls with final demolition.

“ Ah, poor Oda!” thought Otto as he en-
tered the room, “there will be a storm to-
night, and she will have no shelter. How
much more fortunate am I! I have a warm
bed, and, what is better, a dear, dear mother.
But that fairy, Oda’s mother, does not please
me at all; she lives in a palace of gold and
precious stones, and leaves her child to starve
and freeze out in the wild wood!”

These thoughts made the good boy feel very
ODA’S GIFT. 231

sad, added to which, he could not help re-
membering that he never, never would see
his beautiful black cock again. He seated
himself at the table beside his mother, and
buried his face in his hands. All felt too
sad to speak a word.

Suddenly Otto remembered the little box
that Oda had given him. The toy might per-
haps amuse his sister, and keep his mother
from listening so anxiously to the wind, that
now blew as if it would blow the house over.
He put his hand in his pocket. ‘ Look what
I have here!” said he, somewhat shyly, for
he feared lest his mother should ask him how
the box came into his possession; but her
thoughts were far, far away, in that land
whence no traveller ever returns, that blessed
land where, as she hoped, her husband had
but preceded herself and her dear children.

“A toy!” cried Minna, drawing her chair
nearer to the table. Otto placed the box
before his mother; he could not bear to see
her look so melancholy and abstracted.

“ Please, mother, set them up yourself,”
said he.
232 ODA’S GIFT.

Mrs. Teichmann complied, as if in a dream.
Leaning her head upon her hand, she mechani-
cally took one object after another out of the
box.

Ah see
“there is a pretty dwelling-house, with many
windows, and a wide door through which a

!” said she in a halfwhisper,

great number of persons might come, to be
fed from the large pantry that of course could
not fail to be in such a fine house. Here
comes a barn; probably filled with grain!
And here is a stable, with one, two, three,
four cows; here come two more, and a pair
of fine horses besides.”

“OQ mother, show me the horses!” cried
Dick. ‘ How beautiful they are, such splen-
did bays!”

“ Four bay horses ; but here come four grays!
The people who own this house,” added the
mother, smiling sadly, “must be quite well
off. We had only six horses all together when
your good father was alive, but he was al-
ways wishing for two more.”

Mrs. Teichmann here accidentally upset the
box, so that the entire contents lay scattered
ODA’S GIFT. 283
upon the table. Each of the children seized
upon some of the pretty figures, and although
they were all past the age for playing with
toys, they could not resist the temptation of
setting up the whole establishment.

“ Mother!” cried Dick, “here is a whole
flock of sheep; I never saw finer!”

Minna. Here is a dog too; and only see
what noble oxen!

Otto. I have found a shed, and a well
with a wheel and chain. Now, if we only
had that near our house, instead of the old
one that we can get no water from!

Minna. Oh! Here are some little people ;
a girl with two buckets; she must be going
to the well. Let us put everything in its
right place !

Mother. Well, that is easily done! The
house stands in the middle of the table, and
the yard must of course be behind.

Dick. And also everything belonging to
the stables; here is a long shed.

Otto. Mother, had I not better put the
well near the front door ?

Minna. Would it not be better in the yard ?

20%
234 ODA’S GIFT.

The cows and sheep might more easily be
watered. I have just found two such pretty
guinea-fowls.

Mother. Minna is right, and these beauti-
ful green trees must stand before the front
door.

Otto. Yes, yes!

Mother. Were are two benches to put under
them.

Dick. And here are two boys with goads ;
they belong with the oxen.

Otto. Here is a dove-cote, with plenty of
doves; it must stand right in the middle of
the yard.

Mother. Yes, set it there; but where can
we put the chickens? There must be as many
as ten pair.

Minna. There is a little room over the-
cow-stable; that must be the chicken-house.
Nothing is wanting but the ladder to go
up by.

Mother. Here itis! Butwhatis this? A
beautiful cock, black as a coal, and with a
comb as fine as Otto’s poor pet had.

Otto. O, my dear, dear King Comb! it is
ODA’S GIFT. 235

just as if I saw him before me; he only needs
to crow. If there was only a fence to set the
dear little creature on.

' Mother. Here are several pieces of fence ;
set them up round the garden, and put these
fruit-trees in the orchard.

The children set all the things up, moving
them about until they found the best places for
them, and becoming every moment more and
more cheerful. Only the mother could not
join in the general gayety, for the fine estab-
lishment displayed before her gaze reminded
her but too vividly of the falling condition. of
her own house, and the emptiness of her store-
rooms and dilapidated outhouses. Her eyes
were filled with tears.

Otto beheld this with real pain; he left his
place at the table, crept to her side, and laid
his head upon her shoulder.

“ Ah!” sighed he, ‘if this beautiful house
and farm-yard only really stood on the green
plot outside the door, and belonged to you,
dear mother!”

Scarcely were these words uttered, when the
little buildings, the well, the trees, the cattle,
236 ODA’S GIFT.

and the feathered creatures, all began to move,
and placed themselves exactly where Otto had
wished ; they had, however, become of the or-
dinary size of such objects. The windows of
the pretty house shone in the moonlight, the
cows lowed in the stalls, and a girl with two
buckets filled with milk came walking across
the yard. On top of the chicken-house stood
Otto’s black King Comb, lustily crowing and
flapping his wings. The boy uttered a cry of
delight.

At the same moment, a beautiful, mild-look-
ing. lady, holding a lovely child by the hand,
stood before the astonished family, and, turn-
ing to Otto, said: ‘“ Your kindness and self-
sacrifice have freed my poor Oda from the
terrible enchantment under which she had
fallen. You sacrificed what you loved best,
and have suffered hunger and want for your
own family, and for a strange and frightfully
ugly child: such were the conditions of her re-
lease. I myself placed her in the wood, having
first proved the goodness of your heart. Enjoy
now the pleasure of having procured happiness
and plenty for your dear ones; for the pretty
ODA’S GIFT. 237

country-house is the gift of the fairy Au-
rora!”

She vanished ; but not before Otto had recog-
nized his poor Oda in the beautiful child, and
had cordially shaken hands with her. Dick
and Minna looked quite disconcerted; the
fairy was not unknown to either of them.
Dick had seen her in the wood, limping along
on her crutch so comically that he nearly died
with laughing, and Minna had once sent her
quite rudely away when she came to the door
asking for a drink of water; she had told her
she had no time to go for any. Both confessed
with shame their previous misdeeds, and from
that hour they were never known to be guilty
of their former failings.

Otto, who, even as a boy, had shown such
excellent traits of character, grew up into an
excellent man, and always continued to be his
happy mother’s pride and joy. He called the
pretty place the fairy had given him, Oda’s
Gift, and the little family continued to live
there most happily and free from care. Addi-
tions were made from time to time, even the
large wood was purchased, and now it is one
238 ODA’S GIFT.

of the most extensive possessions in the whole
country. Otto and his mother, brother, and
sister have long been dead, but Otto’s picture
still hangs in the great hall of the manor-house.
It is a portrait of a fair-haired, kind-looking
boy, with tears in his eyes, caressing a hand-
some black cock, and represents the moment
when Otto was about to have his dear King
Comb killed to save his mother, brother, and
sister, and the poor child in the wood, from
dying of hunger, —a deed of love from which
proceeded all the happiness of their after
lives.
CASTLE HILL.

A PRUSSIAN LEGEND.















175

Berane

APN RRM ALA OSI P DER

Fe naar a ce mE

te:



CRSTLE -WiLL.
CASTLE HILL.

On the bank of the Memel, near the town
of Tilsit, rises a high, round hill. Many long,
gray years ago, an’ immense fortified castle
stood on the same spot, the remnants of which
may still be seen in the shape of a ruined stone-
wall and a deep ditch. To whom it belonged,
or who last dwelt in it, no one can tell; but
there is a legend current in the neighbor-
hood, according to which the walls fell in all
of a sudden, and were gradually covered with
soil and grass. On the very top of the hill,
a round opening is still shown, of which it is
said that no plummet has ever reached the
bottom, and which is supposed to be the chim-
ney of the former castle. According to the
same legend, a great treasure was buried under
the fallen walls, and.is to this day guarded by

an old, gray-haired castellan, who has been
21
242 CASTLE HILL.

occasionally seen by travellers passing in the
dusk of the evening.

One day, several boys from Preussen, a
village near Tilsit, were watching their cattle
on the Castle Hill. The day was long, the
sun was very hot, and the lads lay down under
a wild rose-bush, and talked about a variety
of matters. Among other things, the hidden
treasure was also discussed, and a wish ex-
pressed that the castcllan would appear to
them, when they would follow him and soon
have the treasure. Such courage was all
very well in the broad daylight, but not one
among them would have remained alone at
night upon the hill.

“ Yes indeed,” said the youngest, “I should
very much like to have that money. My poor
old mother, who sits in the house all day spin-
ning to get us bread to eat, would be right
glad to see me coming home with a pocket
full of gold; but for all that, ] would rather
have nothing to do with the little old man
that guards the treasure.”

“ You fool,” said the others, “he will not
hurt you; perhaps he is only waiting for some
CASTLE HILL. 243

one to come and take away the treasure, that
he may rest in quiet, and no longer haunt
the hill.”

Thus talking, they finally fell upon the idea
of going up to the top of the hill, and throw-
ing stones down the deep, dark hole.

“Tf we only had a long rope,” said James,
the eldest of the boys, a strong, stout, reckless
lad, “one of us might be let down the chim-
ney, and see if he could not find a door lead-
ing to where the treasure is kept.”

‘The farmer I work for has been digging
a well,’ said another, “‘and the rope is still
hanging loose over the windlass. I will run
and get it; nobody will miss it, for both master
and mistress have gone to a christening.”

The proposition was rapturously greeted by
all except little Tony.

“ Perhaps we might all get rich without any
trouble,” cried James, with sparkling eyes;
“and then instead of watching other people’s
cattle, we might have houses and lands and
cattle, and keep cow-boys of our own. You
go and bring the rope, and we will cast lots
to see who must first be let down; the rest
244 CASTLE HILL.

will hold the rope fast above, and pull it up
when the one below gives it a good jerk.”

All were agreed except little Tony, who did
his best to dissuade his comrades, but was
only laughed at for his pains. When the
rope was brought and the lots cast, Tony
was the very person selected by fortune to
make the first trialk He would fain have run
away, but the elder boys held him fast and
forced him to do their will. He was finally
pushed over the opening, struggling and
screaming, to the great apparent entertainment
of his companions. One end of the rope was
tied to the trunk of a large tree, and the other,
fastened round the body of the poor little lad,
who was slowly let down deeper and deeper
into the darksome pit. The boys bent over
the opening, and after a little while cried
out: ‘What do you see now, Tony?”

But Tony only begged the harder to be
drawn up again into the blessed light of
day.

Finally, no answer could be heard ; the rope,
which was longer than the great church-steeple
at Tilsit was high, was all let out, but still
CASTLE HILL. 245

hung stiff and tight, a sign that Tony had not
yet reached the bottom. Suddenly, however,
the weight seemed taken from the end, and
the rope hung loosely down the deep opening.
The boys gave a shout of joy, for Tony must
certainly have reached solid ground. Leaning
over the mouth of the aperture, they called
down and then listened for an answer, but
all remained as quiet as the grave. They
thus waited during a long time, more than
an hour; certainly, they thought, Tony has
been down there long enough to have seen
everything there was to be seen, and to have
filled his pockets besides. They drew up the
rope; it had nothing at the other end but a
large knot. Another hour passed, and again
another; the rope was let down several times,
in the hope that Tony would avail himself
of it, and give the signal for being drawn up,
but all was in vain. Evening came, and they
went back to the village, where they were
afraid to tell the truth, but made up a story
that Tony had gone up alone to play among
the ruins, and had suddenly vanished before

their very eyes.
21*
246 CASTLE HILL.

This was a great grief for the little lad’s
mother, for Tony was her only son. She lay
awake the whole night, weeping and wishing
she might soon be reunited to her dear child,
who had surely fallen down the deep hole in
Castle Hill, and lay mangled and dead at the
bottom.

When on the following morning James and
the other boys, filled with sorrow and self-re-
proach at the loss of their companion, were
slowly driving their cows to pasture, they saw
Tony at the foot of the hill, running toward
them as fast as he could. His pockets, his cap,
even his hands, were filled with gold, and he
joyfully related to his companions the particu-
lars of his fortunate visit.

“ Searcely,”’ said he, “ did I feel the ground
under me, and had untied the rope, when I
saw before me a great door. I opened it, and
entered a large kitchen. A bright fire was
burning on the hearth, and everywhere around
stood vessels of gold and silver. Suddenly, a
little old man stepped up to me, and, kindly
taking my hand, assured me I had no cause to
be alarmed, that no one would do me any
CASTLE HILL. 247

harm. I took heart and followed the old man
through a great number of rooms, of which
each seemed to me more splendid than the one
beforé. The castellan, for so the little old
man said I must call him, gave me some sup-
per, and showed me where I was to sleep. I
was so tired that I slept soundly until the old
man came and wakened me. Then, filling my
cap and all my pockets with gold from a pile
that lay on the floor near the bed, he said:
‘Take that in remembrance of the old castel-
lan, and use it to make your aged mother as
comfortable as you can.’ Then, again taking
my hand, he opened a little door, and as soon
as I had put my foot outside I saw the blue sky
and the morning sun, and heard the village
bells. The castellan gave me a friendly nod,
and then disappeared. The door out of which
I had just come also vanished. I could not
see it anywhere. God be praised that all has
ended so well! How glad mother will be!”

Tony then ran on to the village without stop-
ping to answer the many questions asked him
by his companions, who were anxious to hear
more of this wonderful adventure.
248 CASTLE HILL.

“Well,” said the lads among themselves,
“we must also go and pay the old castellan a
visit, and get some of his treasures. Let us
again cast lots to see who must be the next
one let down the chimney.”

‘Why should we cast lots?” cried James;
“T am the oldest among you, and I will be the
first to go down; if you are not willing, I will
soon show you that I have the right of the
strongest on my side.”

The boys were not very well pleased, but
they did not venture to oppose their comrade’s
will; and so James was fastened to the rope
and let down the hole, having first taken his
lunch out of his pocket, and thrown it away, to
make more room for the gold he expected to
receive from the castellan. The rope once
more hung down its full length, tight and
stiff; James called out several times as he was
descending, and then all became quiet as be-
fore. Again the weight was taken from the
rope, and the boys drew it up, for this time
they did not expect to see their comrade again
that day; they knew he would be well fed, and
sleep in a soft bed down below, and meet them
CASTLE HILL. 249

next morning at the foot of the hill, fresher
and gayer than ever. James’s absence was not
observed in the village ; his comrades drove his
cattle home, and he had no mother to be anx-
ious about him.

The following morning the lads drove their
cattle to pasture much earlier than usual, but
no James came running to meet them. They
waited awhile, and then going up to the top of
the hill, let down the rope, and loudly called
the name of their companion. But all re-
mained still as death. Since that day no hu-
man being has ever seen or heard anything of
James, nor has any one ever had the courage
to descend to the depths of the Castle Hill in
search of the buried treasure.

THE END.


.

i,

CC
SS
â„¢

3h

é

a








rt >
‘4 eS
be “ .
7 “
oat eT Py
Cie by og!)











MN ie eth ae
f A teed 3 F
ow)
rl
. é f ‘ P i

BR eS ee er eer ere ctl Pike WA Bat, Brita bee

rae beth | me . ee ee a Se M é yb aM Ae 4

4 Ce oe en) % ca



at ee ee oe
















Pee ees ty











oa

5
+ & em

ad



a

& a







ee)
< c
Pai o1
a
«
i.
“
ryritt 3






oar st
s

, i Poet by Ret erteette - 5 * ery} igh rapt +
“ yea fees, r 7 z eae . coy ‘ add 6 v
Pe F by wee % as ; : t a see ¥ :
. ) " P Se
P 5 J ere 4 -