[Illustration: "The Count then opened the door and overcome with emotionhe fell at the feet of the Countess. "--From _"Royal Palace to LowlyHut"_] _SUNSHINE AND SHADOW SERIES_ AFTER LONG YEARS AND OTHER STORIES TRANSLATIONS FROM THE GERMAN BY SOPHIE A. MILLER AND AGNES M. DUNNE NOTE These ethical stories have been translated from the German with the viewof instilling into the minds of youthful readers such truths as willhelp materially toward building a character that will withstand thetrials and temptations of life. It is conceded by educators that ethics presented in the lecture formfails of its purpose; therefore the writers have presented this subjectin the form most appealing to children--the story. CONTENTS I. AFTER LONG YEARS Chapter I. The Journey II. Apprenticeship III. Alfred Banford IV. The Stranger II. THE CAPTIVE Chapter I. Home-Coming II. The Slave III. In the Turkish Family IV. The Lion V. The Offer VI. The Plans VII. Restored to Freedom III. THE ARTIST'S MASTERPIECE Chapter I. The Gift II. Under the Emperor's Bush III. No Prophet in His Own Country IV. The Condition V. The Fulfilment IV. THE VINEYARD ON THE HILLSIDE Chapter I. Missing II. The Faithful Dog III. The Fond Foster-Parents IV. The Errand V. The Old Man VI. The Legacy VII. The Journey V. THE DAMAGED PICTURE Chapter I. The Artist II. The Picture III. The Discovery VI. MEMORIES AWAKENED Chapter I. The Change of Circumstances II. The Revelation VII. THE INHERITANCE Chapter I. Mr. Acton and his Son II. The Uninvited Guest III. The Flowering Plant IV. The Two Families V. The Feast VIII. HOW IT HAPPENED Chapter I. The Wooded Island II. Far From Home III. The Smoke IX. FROM ROYAL PALACE TO LOWLY HUT Chapter I. The Suburbs II. The Retreat III. The Prison IV. The Purchase V. Reunited X. THE UGLY TRINKET Chapter I. The Opened Door II. The Test III. Reverses AFTER LONG YEARS CHAPTERS. I. THE JOURNEY. II. APPRENTICESHIP. III. ALFRED BANFORD. IV. THE STRANGER. [Illustration: "He halted, offered his assistance to the two half-frozenmen, helped them into the sleigh and hurried on with them. "] AFTER LONG YEARS CHAPTER I THE JOURNEY The Duchess of Banford and her two children were driving toward theirvilla, when, owing to the roughness of the road, the front wheel oftheir coach was suddenly broken. Considerably frightened, mother andchildren quickly alighted. The approaching darkness, coupled with theloneliness of the place, added to the difficulty; for the prospect ofspending the night in the woods was particularly distressing. Just then a stable-boy chanced along and seeing the predicament, said:"Oh, that wheel can be easily mended. Not far from here there lives awheelwright, and I am sure he can repair it in a very short time. " Theboy then looked about him, and seeing a long pole, said: "We can usethis to support the wagon as it drags along. The road is rugged, and itwill take us about an hour to get there. " "Is there no shorter route?" inquired the Duchess. "This is the only wagon road; but if you wish, I will lead you along ashorter path across the fields which will cut the distance in half. " The Duchess thanked him, and asked: "Do you think that we may take thispole? It seems to me as though some wood-cutter had left it here to propa tree. " "Oh, yes, " he answered, "it belongs to the wheelwright to whom I amtaking you. All the wood around here belongs to him, and he will be gladto have this pole so handy. " So saying, he hurried to get the pole andhelped the coachman fasten it in place. The horses then drew thecarriage slowly over the rocky road, while the coachman walkedalongside. The family, however, followed the footpath, which led between tall elmsand blooming shrubbery along the edge of a babbling brook. The silence was broken now and then by the plaintive song of anightingale. The Duchess and her two children seated themselves upon thetrunk of a fallen tree and listened to the music till it ceased. Agentle wind sighed softly through the leaves of the trees, and merrilyflowed the near-by brook. As the nightingale repeated its song, they alllistened intently. When the song was ended, the Duchess said: "I would give twenty poundsif I had such a bird in my garden. I have heard many nightingales singin the city, but here in the country, in this wooded region and deepstillness, and at this twilight hour, its song seems doubly enchanting. Oh, that I might hear it sing in the little bower near my villa. " "Hm, " whispered the stable-boy, who stood near her oldest son, Alfred, "those twenty pounds could be easily earned. " Alfred nodded, and motioned to the boy to be still, for just then thenightingale began to sing. When the song ceased the Duchess arose tocontinue her way. Alfred, however, lagged behind with the stable-boy, with whom he was soon busily engaged in earnest talk. "A nightingale in a cage is not what my mother wants; what she wants isa nightingale that is at liberty, to sing and nest and fly as it pleasesin our beautiful garden, and to return to us in the spring from itswinter home. " "I understand very well what you mean. I should not want to catch a birdand deliver it into captivity. " After questioning Alfred more closelyabout the trees near his villa, the boy said: "I feel sure that I canget a nightingale and its nest for you. I know just how to go about it. You will soon hear its song resound from all parts of your garden--possibly not this week, but surely next. " Alfred stood still for a moment and looked at the boy--clothed in ashabby suit, with his hair protruding from his torn hat. Then he asked, wonderingly, "What would you do with the money?" "Oh, " said the boy, and the tears stood in his eyes, "twenty poundswould help us out of our troubles. You see, my father is a day-laborer. He is not a very strong man, and I was just on my way to visit him, anddo what I could to help him. My foreman has given me a few days' leaveof absence. I don't earn much, but it helps my father a little. I oftenfeel that it would be a great help to him if I could earn more. Icertainly should like nothing better than to be a wheelwright. It mustbe grand to be able to take the wood that lies here in the forest, andmake a beautiful carriage out of it, like the one you own. I have oftentalked with the wheelwright, but he will not take me as an apprenticeuntil I have a certain amount of money. Besides, I should need money tobuy tools. It would cost twenty pounds, and my father and I haven't asmuch as that together. "Poor boy, " thought Alfred, "if what he says is true, we must help him. "Then he said aloud, "Bring me a written recommendation from yourschoolmaster; and if the wheelwright really wants to take you, I willgive you ten pounds as soon as the nightingale sings in our garden; and Iknow that the missing ten pounds will soon be forthcoming. But you mustsay nothing about this to anyone until my mother's wish is gratified. Ishould like to give her an unexpected pleasure. " Soon they struck the main road again, and the rest of the distance wasquickly covered. While the wheelwright was repairing the carriage, Alfred engaged him inconversation concerning the stable-boy, all of whose statements the mancorroborated. He also showed a willingness to apprentice the boy on theterms stated. The damage had now been repaired, so the Duchess paid the charges, giving the stable-boy a few coins, and seated herself in the carriagewith her children. After whispering a few words to the boy, to tell him how to reach thevilla, Alfred joined his mother and sister, and with tooting of hornsthey proceeded on their journey in high spirits. CHAPTER II APPRENTICESHIP The little stable-boy, Michael Warden, hurried on to his sick father. Itwas late, and the journey would take him two hours. On his way hestopped to buy a few delicacies for his father with the coins theDuchess had given him. To his surprise, he found on arrival that hisfather was very much improved. Before daybreak on the following morning, Michael hurried to the woodsto find the nightingale's nest he knew so well. When he had last visitedit, he had seen five brownish-green eggs there. But as he now peeredinto it he found, to his great astonishment, that the young birds hadbroken through their shells. With all haste he set out for the villa, several miles distant, to study the situation and decide where he couldbest fasten the nest. Arriving there, he found a suitable place, andthen hurried back to the woods. In the course of a few days, he succeeded in caging the parent birds. Placing the nest beside them in the cage, he carried it to the garden ofthe Duchess. He arrived there toward evening, and was hospitablyreceived by the gardener, who had been fully acquainted with the idea. Adjoining the villa was a large tract of land, well wooded, which wasbeautifully laid out with garden plots, pebbly, shaded paths, vine-covered bowers and rustic seats. In one corner of the garden therestood an odd little thatch-covered arbor, nestling between high rocks inthe shadow of the tall trees. A brook which fell in foaming whitenessflowed past this little nook, clear as crystal, and made the stillnessfascinating by its intermittent murmuring. This spot the Duchess lovedwell, and many hours of the day she spent here. Scarcely a hundred feet distant, there stood a willow tree closelyresembling the late home of the caged nightingales. The boy had chosenthis tree and had prepared a place for the nest on a forked branch. Hewent there late one evening, as the moon was shining brightly, andplaced the nest securely on this tree; then he gave the parent birdstheir freedom. The next morning, the boy returned to the spot and hid himself in thethick shrubbery, to see whether the birds would feed their young, whowere loudly crying for food. In a little while the parent birds returnedand fed them. "Now I have triumphed, " said Michael; and he hurried to the villa tocarry to Alfred the welcome news that in a few days the nightingaleswould be singing their song in his garden. "Fine, " said Alfred, "and then the money will be yours. Stay a few dayslonger and you can take it with you. " Two days later, the Duchess invited her friends to a lawn-party. The sunhad risen in all its glory, the sky was unclouded, and the breezes werelight and refreshing. The garden, with all its natural beauty, affordeda most entrancing spot for the feast, which proved perfect in everydetail and was enjoyed in full measure. After the guests had departed, the Duchess said to her children, "Let usspend this delightful twilight hour here in quiet. My soul is satisfied;for what can compare with this blessed evening hour? What comparison canthere be between the grandeur of our salon and the beauty of nature?" Just then the nightingale broke the stillness with its ecstatic song. The Duchess was surprised, and listened intently until the song wasended. "I wonder how this nightingale came to my garden. The oldest residentscannot remember ever having heard one in this region. " "Dear mother, " said Alfred, "you often wished that a nightingale wouldlend its song and its presence to grace this beautiful spot. The sameboy who assisted us out of a difficulty recently, helped me gratify yourwish. You remember, dear mother, that you said at that time: 'I wouldgive twenty pounds to have a nightingale in my garden. ' That boy hashelped us please you, and we have paid him half this amount out of oursavings. The boy is worthy of the money, and it may be the foundation ofhis future success. " "You have acted nobly, " said the Duchess. "I am transported with ecstasyat hearing the nightingale sing for the first time in my garden, andalso at the love which you have shown for your mother. It moves me stillmore, however, when I think that my children possess a heart big enoughto part with money intended for their own use, and voluntarily give itup to afford help and joy to others. I, too, will reward the boygenerously. I wonder what use he would make of the money. " "We could not give the money to a more worthy person, " said Alfred, whothen related to his mother the boy's aspirations. "Besides, I havewritten to his teacher, and this is what he says about him: 'A greaterdeed of charity you could not perform than to help Michael Warden carryout his desire to learn a trade. He is a clever, ingenious boy, andwould learn quickly. I think he would like best to be a wheelwright, andI would suggest that you apprentice him with the master in our village. 'So you see, mother, the money would not be spent in vain. " "Very well, the money shall be his. " On the following morning, Alfred sent for Michael, and counted out tohim the money, increasing it to fifty pounds. Michael's astonishmentalmost carried him off his feet, and he thanked Alfred profusely for theextra money. He hurried home to his father and laid his wealth beforehim on the table. The old man stared at it in blank amazement, and said:"My boy, I hope you have not stolen this money!" "No, father, but a little bird in the forest helped me, " and Michaelrelated the incident. His father, overjoyed, now made all preparations for Michael's outfit. He then conducted him to the master wheelwright, paid the stipulated sumand entered him as an apprentice. At the end of three years, the boy wasas accomplished in his trade as his master. Before starting out into the world, Michael returned to the Castle ofBanford to tell of his progress, and once more thank the Duchess and herchildren for their kindness to him. They praised him heartily for thestrides he had made. The Duchess then gave him another gift of money forhis journey, and said: "Success be yours. We must never do good byhalves; the sapling that we plant we should also water. " Then with manyencouraging remarks, the Banfords bade him good-bye. Touched by their interest and charity, Michael was so stupefied that hecould scarcely speak. When he recovered his self-control, he thankedthem all, and promised faithfully to do his best and always remembertheir good advice. CHAPTER III ALFRED BANFORD Alfred Banford had always been kind to the poor and dutiful andaffectionate to his mother. Suddenly he was seized with patrioticfervor. For some time he had nursed the desire to be a soldier. At theage of seventeen, he studied the art of warfare at a military academy. He surprised all the officers with his military genius. The Duchess, too, loved her fatherland, and at last she tearfullyrecognized that she must give up her son to fight in defense of hiscountry. "Go, then, " said she, "fight for the right and your country; and may Godprotect you. " Alfred fought valiantly and well, and at last was forced to proceed withthe great French army against Russia. On the way to Moscow the rankswere greatly depleted, owing to the long, wearisome marches andprivations. After untold hardships and bloodshed, the army at lastreached Moscow, with her many palaces and temples and spires and the oldpalace, the Kremlin. It was a pleasing picture. Alfred, like every othersoldier, now hoped to recuperate from the hardships of warfare. But hefound the city uninhabited, the streets deserted, the palaces and housesempty. At midnight, a dreadful fire which had been smoldering for several days, broke out in wild fury and laid the greater part of the city in ashes. The army was obliged to retreat; and many thousand brave soldiers, exposed to snow and ice, hunger and cold, met a horrible death. Onesingle freezing night killed thousands of horses, Alfred's among them. He was obliged to walk knee deep in icy water. They traversed miles and miles of country without passing one hut; andwhen in the distance a human habitation appeared and gave promise ofwarmth and food, they found upon approach that it was deserted anddevoid of everything. The poor, miserable, weakened soldiers were obliged to spend many aweary night on the snow-covered ground, with no roof but the sky. Theneed of food became more and more imperative each moment; yet if theyhad had the wealth of kings, they could not have bought a dry crust ofbread; so they were reduced to the extremity of eating the flesh oftheir fallen horses. They quenched their thirst with snow. The street upon which the greater part of the army had gathered wasmarked with deserted cannons and powder wagons; and on both sides laythe dead, upon whom the fast falling snow had spread a white coverlet. Many of the soldiers of Alfred's regiment had fallen, and lay frozen inthe snow; others were scattered here and there. Alfred and a chum, both in a weakened condition, tried to go on. Theydescried a little village, about half an hour distant; but before theyreached it, Alfred had become so weak that he fell exhausted in thesnow, saying: "Thus must I die here!" He extended his hand to his friendand with tears in his eyes said: "Should you ever reach the Castle ofBanford, bear my love to my mother and sisters. Tell them that AlfredBanford fought bravely, and fell in the service of his country. " These words reached the ears of a Russian gentleman, Vosky by name, whoin a rude sled was going in the direction of the village. He halted, offered his assistance to the two half-frozen men, helped them into thesleigh and hurried on with them. A few minutes' drive brought them to alittle inn, half concealed by the drifted snow. The men were conducted into the house and furnished with food andwarmth. The host asked them no questions, for he saw that they werebenumbed and almost unconscious. At last, when they had recovered, heraised his glass and said: "To your health, gentlemen. All bravesoldiers should live. I sympathize with you, although I am a Russiansubject. The sad fate of your fellow soldiers pains me. I will do all inmy power to help you. I know you are not our enemy. We have but oneenemy--the man whose iron will has forced all these hundreds ofthousands of men into our country. " Then he arose and went about theplace, giving orders to his assistant. The sleigh still stood at the door, and the horses impatiently shook thesleigh bells and pawed the snow. As Vosky re-entered the room, his twoguests had finished their repast. "Now, " said he, "let me conduct you to a room where you can rest andsleep, undisturbed and undiscovered. " After climbing a ladder andwalking through a narrow passage, they came to a secret door whichopened into a bedroom. Alfred Banford looked about him, and was startledwhen he saw in a mirror the reflection of such a pale, hungry-lookingvisage and such tattered clothes. Pity was plainly written in Vosky's kind face, but all he said was:"Stay here and recuperate. To my sorrow, I must leave you for a littlewhile in order to transact some urgent business; but I will instruct myvalet to provide you with every possible comfort. Everything in thishouse stands at your service. " Alfred Banford ventured to ask whether it would be perfectly safe toremain, for he feared that Russian soldiers might capture him and thathe would be sent to Siberia. "I give you my word, " said Vosky. "You will be as safe here as the Czaris in his Castle. Give me your word of honor to remain until my return. I will then devise means to help you reach your country. But I must beoff now. Take good care of yourselves. " And hurriedly he closed the doorbehind him. Alfred Banford marveled at the friendliness and goodness of this strangeman who had come to his rescue so unexpectedly and so opportunely, likean angel from heaven. "It seems like awakening from a dream, to findmyself transported from an icy field to a warm, cozy room, " said he. "Itborders on the miraculous--I cannot fathom it. " But sleep was fastoverpowering him. He had lain for so long on straw, on icy ground, andeven in the snow, that it seemed as if he had never felt anything softeror warmer than this bed. He soon fell asleep and rested quietly andpeacefully till the dawn. CHAPTER IV THE STRANGER On the following morning, at breakfast, Alfred Banford turned to thekind-hearted Russian servant, and said: "Do tell me what sort of manyour master is, and what is his name?" "He is a very good man, " said the servant. "I can think of no one who iskindlier. His name is Vosky, the Czar's chief financial adviser, and heis particularly concerned with the care of the Russian army. He hasalways shown me great consideration, for I was only a poor beggar boy. "One day one of Mr. Vosky's assistants lost a package containing somevaluable papers and a large sum of money. It was extensively advertised. I fortunately found the package and brought it to Mr. Vosky, who was sopleased with my honesty that he offered me a home, had me trained for acommercial life, and now takes me with him on his journeys, partly assecretary and partly as valet. "His home is in St. Petersburg. This house is only used as a stoppingplace when his business carries him to this region, which happens quitefrequently. Before leaving yesterday, he gave me strict orders to lookafter your welfare. I trust you will be pleased with my efforts, andgive Mr. Vosky a good report when he returns. " By slow degrees Alfred Banford recovered his strength. He found bookswith which to while away the time. The stillness of this secluded spotwas a gratifying change from the noisy battlefield. One night, Mr. Vosky returned. As he entered the house, his face shonewith enthusiasm and gay spirits. "I come, " said he, turning to Alfred, "to give you liberty after your long confinement. I stand at yourservice, and wish to do everything in my power to see you safelyrestored to your own country. I would suggest that you go with me to St. Petersburg; from there you can easily return to your own home by water. I should like to introduce you to my wife and children. Besides, I couldnot let you depart without suitable clothing, and I cannot provide youwith that here. " "My good man, " said Alfred, "your extraordinary kindness to me exceedsall measure. I cannot understand how I should merit such considerationfrom you. " "But, " said Mr. Vosky, almost choked with emotion, "I find nothingextraordinary or bountiful in my acts. It is my duty, an act ofgratitude. " "I fail to understand you, " said Alfred. "I cannot remember theslightest favor that I have ever proffered you. I never saw you before, and what is more, I never heard of you in my life. " "Never?" cried Mr. Vosky. "Then listen to what I have to say. My entirefortune I owe to you. All my success I lay at your door. " Alfred looked at him in astonishment and shook his head. "Did you never help a poor boy, by giving him fifty pounds?" "Just now I don't remember ever having done any poor boy such acharity. " "Now, " said Vosky, "perhaps you may remember a nightingale that youwished to have brought to your mother's garden. You will recall thatpoor stable-boy who managed it for you. " "Oh, yes, " said Alfred, "I remember the boy very well. He was a poor, worthy, ambitious lad, named Michael Warden. The last I heard of him waswhen he went out into the world as a wheelwright, to make his fortune. " "So, you do remember him. Well, that boy Michael was none other thanmyself. Now I am the owner of a large factory, besides being financialadviser to the Czar. I had my name legally changed to Vosky. I was thatstable-boy, that wheelwright. " "You!" cried Alfred, filled with admiration and astonishment. He sprangforward and embraced his benefactor. "But why didn't you tell me allthis at first?" "That was impossible, " said Vosky. "It would have taken too long toexplain; and my business affairs were so pressing, and you were soexhausted, that you could not have listened to a detailed account. Ideferred it for a more quiet, restful time, when I could express to youmy thanks. I saw that you did not recognize me, and I, too, would neverhave recognized you had you not said that day as you sank in the snow, 'Give my love to my mother and sisters and say that Alfred Banford fellin the service of his country. ' Let us be thankful that we have beenbrought together, and that the opportunity has been afforded me to showyou that I am not ungrateful. I cannot express to you the joy it givesme to see you, and to be able to serve you. " Mr. Vosky then related some of the events of his life. How he hadvisited the principal cities of Europe; and how he had studied under thebest men, in order to make himself proficient in his line of work. Having heard that many Londoners were competing for the construction ofcarriages for Russia, he had hastily sent in his estimate. The work wasaccorded to him, and in a few years time he had amassed a large fortune. He had also opened a large wagon factory, and as soon as the war brokeout with France, he had received orders from the Czar to supply theRussian army with additional powder wagons. The government had been aspleased with his promptness as with his honesty. Later, he had receivedthe title of "Imperial Financial Adviser. " Alfred listened earnestly, and said: "God blessed you with excellenttalents. Even as a child you showed genius. You certainly made good useof your gifts. I see from all that you have told me, that you werealways ready to embrace an opportunity; that you worked with diligence, honesty and system, and that you began and ended all your work with anhonest purpose. God, upon whom you relied, has blessed all yourundertakings. " "That is true, " said Mr. Vosky. "The fortune which I have accumulatedgives me pleasure; for with it I can help the needy. Many a poor lad, like myself, have I (in memory of my own childhood) taken by the handand helped to become a man of standing in the world. " Mr. Vosky became silent, and after a long pause said, "I sorely regretthat my poor father did not live, to see how valuable was the goodtraining which he gave me, and that I was not permitted to make somereturn to him for his love and devotion. " On the following day, Mr. Vosky and his guests started on their journeyto St. Petersburg. The route lay along a beautiful section of thecountry; and so, with entertaining conversation, they reached theirdestination before they had expected. Mr. Vosky's home was a beautiful place. His family came forward withwarm greetings, and were introduced to Alfred Banford. The childrencould hardly understand how any man who looked so shabby and worn couldever have been their father's benefactor. The father, however, explainedto them that the trials and tribulations of warfare, through whichAlfred had passed, accounted for his appearance; and they were moved tosympathy for his sufferings. Mr. Vosky had his tailor furnish Alfred with a complete outfit, suitableto his station. Alfred remained with the Vosky family until the following spring, whenthey escorted him to the wharf. Mr. Vosky gave him a large roll ofbills, for which Alfred thanked him, and said: "I will send you a checkfor this amount as soon as I reach home. " "Oh, no, " said Mr. Vosky; "rather give the money to some poor boy. Whatwe give to the poor always returns to us. " With many adieus and handshakes, Alfred departed; and the Vosky familycontinued waving their handkerchiefs until the vessel was lost to view. THE CAPTIVE CHAPTERS. I. HOME-COMING. II. THE SLAVE. III. IN THE TURKISH FAMILY. IV. THE LION. V. THE OFFER. VI. THE PLANS. VII. RESTORED TO FREEDOM. [Illustration: The Master of the House. ] THE CAPTIVE CHAPTER I HOME-COMING Early one morning, Antonio, a noble youth of sixteen, was wandering bythe seashore. He had just come from a high school in Salerno, Italy, andwished to spend the Easter holidays at his father's ancestral home. Theearth looked gay in all the beauty of spring, and the sea shone in therosy light of the morning sun. Antonio's heart glowed with adoration ashe gazed upon the scene, and he thanked the Creator of all thesewonders. With hurried steps he continued his way, thinking of his homeand the reception awaiting him. His parents were of noble birth. They had lost considerable property andmoney; but they desired to give their son every advantage and--what wasworth more than money--an excellent education. From his earliestchildhood, they had taught him to reverence God and respect the laws. All his talents were being carefully developed. At a great personalsacrifice, they had sent him to the high school. Here Antonio deniedhimself many pleasures in which his richer classmates indulged, andtried in every way to live economically. He made no secret of his lackof money, nor did he envy those who possessed more than he did. So onthis particular morning we find Antonio saving traveling expenses bymaking the journey to his home on foot. The path led through some tall bushes and curved around a huge rock. Here he suddenly espied a queer looking vessel lying at anchor. Severalmen with swarthy faces, clothed in a strange, odd fashion, were drawingwater from a spring which gushed from the rock. They were pirates fromAlgiers. As soon as they caught sight of the boy, they sprang upon him, like tigers upon a harmless lamb, seized him, dragged him to the ship, robbed him of his beautiful clothing, dressed him like a slave, boundhim hand and foot and placed him beside some other captives, who greetedAntonio with loud cries. When Antonio had recovered from the first great shock, he folded hischained hands, and turning his eyes towards the heavens, he cried aloudto God for strength to bear this great trial, and for safe deliverancefrom, the hands of his enemies. The other prisoners, mostly Italians, had understood his prayers andwere deeply touched by his great faith. They soon became confidential, and little by little they unfolded to one another the story of theirlives. One prisoner, well versed in law, who knew Antonio's father, showed the boy much sympathy. Another prisoner, a sailor, grieved overthe old parents whose mainstay he had been for many years. "Oh, " sighedhe, "now hunger and want will overtake them. " Another, a fisherman, somewhat older than the rest, was the saddest of them all. He sat apartat one end of the ship, holding his head in his hand and weepingsilently. He was the father of five children. He grieved sorely when hethought what his absence would mean to them. Antonio tried to comfortthe old man with the assurance that some rescuer would be sent to savethem. All the prisoners listened to Antonio. His appearance, his friendliness, his cheerfulness, his faith, his trust brightened them all and gave themrenewed hope. Then the fisherman stood up and said: "This boy has beensent to cheer us. Let us trust as he does, and some day, perhaps, ourchains may be removed. " Then he began to sing and all the prisonersjoined in the song. CHAPTER II THE SLAVE The pirates now weighed anchor, and slowly the ship began to move. Antonio watched the mountains, the hills, the temples and the palacesgradually become smaller and smaller and finally fade from view. Then agreat pain at leaving his beloved fatherland, his sunny Italy, clutchedhis heart. Soon he was able to see nothing but the heavens and the vastexpanse of water. For several days the vessel sailed hither and thither, in search of moreprey. Suddenly the pirates spied in the distance a warship, which was inpursuit of them. The prisoners rejoiced in silence and felt buoyed bythe hope of an early rescue. The pirates lashed the prisoners to greateractivity, and made them help with the oars. Under cover of the night, the pirates made their escape. As the morning sun broke over the sea, Antonio gazed upon the waters, and saw nothing of the warship. His heart sank, and he could scarcelyrepress his tears. But suddenly he raised his voice, and said to hisfellow-prisoners, "Though our trusting prayers have not been answered, they will not pass unheeded, and our deliverance will surely come. " In less than an hour they saw in the distance the city of Algiers, glistening in the sunlight. Little by little they were able todistinguish the houses, and the Temple of the Turks, with the sign ofthe Crescent upon it. The ship anchored, the prisoners were landed, and after a short restwere led through the narrow, dirty streets to the market place. Herethey were exhibited for sale like cattle. The purchasers passed amongthe prisoners, and examined them as they would horses. In order todisplay their strength, the prisoners were obliged to lift heavy stones, placed there for that purpose. Many sales were made. The lawyer, thesailor and several others went for a good price. As Antonio could notlift the heavier stones, the buyers considered him too weak for a slaveand scornfully passed him by. A little removed from the crowd, there stood a merchant with a verywrinkled face, who seemed to be taking but little interest in the sale. After all the captives had been sold, except Antonio, the merchantstepped nearer, put on his spectacles, and surveyed Antonio from head tofoot. He examined his hands, and hesitated when he found them soft andwhite. "But, " said the merchant, speaking in Italian, "there must besomething that you have learned. " Antonio thought a moment, and notwishing to hide anything, said confidently that he could do clericalwork and could write in the Italian and French languages. "Hm, hm, " saidthe merchant, "that is something, but what else can you do?" Antonio said, "I understand Latin and Greek. " "Oh, my, such wares we cannot use here. Is there nothing else that youknow?" "Yes, " answered Antonio, "I can sing and play the guitar. " "I wish I had an instrument at hand, " said the merchant; "but supposeyou sing a song for me. " Antonio did as the old man wished, and his voice was sweet and clear. The merchant offered three gold pieces for Antonio, but as the dealerskept on raising the price, the merchant shrugged his shoulders, turnedand went on. The pirates called him back and offered him the boy for ten gold pieces. The merchant paid the price, and the boy belonged to him. It grieved Antonio to think that he had been bought like a horse or adog; but his trust and faith were so steadfast that he knew, in thefullness of time, some good would result from it. The merchant was named Jesseph. He carried on a slave business, but onlyoccasionally. Slaves who were accustomed to rough, hard work he neverdeigned to purchase; such as were young, active, refined or cleversuited his purpose best. Besides, he tried to buy at the lowest figure, and sell at a great profit. He certainly hoped to sell Antonio at a highprice. When he reached home, he said to his overseer: "See what a fine specimenI have brought. Notice his manly bearing and refined, handsome face. Seethe intelligence that beams from his eyes. All these things fill me withthe expectation of soon disposing of him profitably. "Now, " said he, turning to Antonio, "go with my overseer and buyyourself a guitar of the very best make. " Then, addressing the overseer, he said, "Be sure you pay the very least amount possible. " When they returned Jesseph bade Antonio play and sing. "Oh, that is beautiful!" cried he. "That touches the heart. You talkwell and you sing well; both are good recommendations and will certainlysecure for you a fine position. " And, thought he to himself, "will bringme a good price, too. " Jesseph did not try to sell Antonio immediately. He hoped to teach him alittle of the language, manners and customs of the Turks, so that hecould the better fill a position in a Turkish household. He gave himinstruction, and was surprised at his rapid progress. He fed him welland housed him well, and exacted from him daily labor at clerical work. Often Antonio was obliged to unpack large cases of goods; but heperformed all the work with patience, cheerfulness and obedience. CHAPTER III IN THE TURKISH FAMILY A year had slowly passed. One day Jesseph called Antonio to him andsaid: "I have some good news to impart. I have secured a very desirableposition for you, and I am certain that you will meet all therequirements. " Jesseph bade Antonio gather together his things, and provided him with asuitable outfit. At the end of the week, he conducted Antonio to aTurkish house in the heart of the city. The servant, having announcedtheir arrival, ushered them into a magnificent reception room. The master of the house, a Turk, clad in rich Turkish garments, sat upona divan, smoking a long bamboo pipe which was filled with fragranttobacco. Beside him, on a low table, stood a cup of coffee. Turning to Antonio, the Turk said, "I have been told that you are a finesinger and player. Let me hear you perform. " Modestly Antonio addressed the Turk and said: "I can sing nothing inyour language; I know only Italian songs. " "That will please me, as I understand Italian. Just sing and play whatyou know best, " said the Turk. Then Antonio, who felt himself an outcast from his own pleasant, sunnyItaly, and transported as a captive to Africa, softly lifted his voice, and sang a song of home and fatherland, with deep tenderness andsoulfulness. The Turk listened attentively, the smoke rising from his pipe, and saidas soon as the song was ended: "Bravo! your talent exceeds myexpectation. " After plying Antonio with a few more questions, he said, "I think youpossess the necessary qualifications. " Then the Turk counted out one hundred gold pieces to Jesseph and laidthem upon the table. Jesseph counted them and placed them in his leatherbag. "Your honor, " said he, turning to the Turk, "will be pleased withthis bargain, I am sure; and you, Antonio, must show by your good worksthat you are worthy the price. Live well! Adieu!" The Turk, Ashmed by name, was a rich merchant who traded extensivelywith other countries. He wished Antonio to carry on his correspondencewith French and Italian merchants, and to serve in his house. As it was now time to dine, he directed Antonio to prepare himself andthen proceed to the dining-room. [Illustration: "Now you may sing and play for us. "] Here Antonio became acquainted with the other members of the household. At the table there were four persons, Ashmed, his wife, Fatime, andtheir two children, a boy and a girl. As Ashmed's wife removed the veil which had concealed her face, Antoniowas struck by her exquisite beauty. The children, who were very wellbehaved, greeted him in a friendly way and watched him attentively. Antonio tried to do his best, and felt amply repaid when Ashmed said:"Your services this day have pleased us. Now you may sing and play forus. " As Antonio had noticed the affection which existed in this household, hesang a sweet Italian song of motherly love. "The song is beautiful, " said the girl. And the boy said, "I wish Icould sing like that. " "Very well, " said the father, "Antonio shall teach you. " The children were overjoyed, and Antonio assured the father that itwould give him great pleasure to instruct them. The music served as abond to draw them closer, and soon the children grew very fond ofAntonio. This pleased the parents, and won for Antonio their fullappreciation. CHAPTER IV THE LION Ashmed now decided to take his family, Antonio included, to visit hiscountry estate, which lay in the southwestern part of Algeria near themountains. Here he owned a large house, surrounded by a beautifulgarden. A short distance from the house stood a great number of olivetrees belonging to the estate. Many slaves were busily employedgathering the olives, which were afterwards pressed to extract the oil. Shortly after their arrival, Ashmed took his family to view the estateand to watch the laborers finishing their day's work. The sun was fastdeclining and the men, before leaving the grounds for the day, tried toextinguish a small fire which they had shortly before lighted. Theystamped on the burning material and scattered it, leaving a brand or twoto die out slowly. Ashmed and Fatime walked on to view the mountains, whose tops glowed inthe sunlight, while the valley lay in shadow. The two children enjoyedthemselves chasing insects that looked to them like flying diamonds. Suddenly there came down the mountain path a ferocious lion, withbristling mane and wide open month. All fled toward the house, pale withfright. The little girl, Almira, who could not run so fast, lost herfooting and fell helpless on the ground as the lion was approaching her. Antonio quickly seized a glowing fire-brand, swung it in circles andthus renewed the flames. With this fiery torch whirling before him, hewalked boldly in the direction of the lion. He knew that all animals fear fire. The lion stumbled, stood still, shook his mane, uttered a roar that brought a thunderous echo from themountains, then slowly retreated, always keeping his eyes fixed upon thetorch. The enraged lion again stood still, growled and roared louderthan before, and once more stood ready to spring. Antonio plucked upcourage, and steadily swung his fiery weapon before him. The lion stoodstill for the third time. Suddenly it turned, trotted up the mountainpath, and soon disappeared in the darkness of the approaching night. In the meantime the frightened child had reached her mother, who hadtried hard to save her, but had found herself too helpless to move. Almira sank into her mother's arms, overcome with the shock. The motherpressed her child's pale face close to her own, and their tears mingled. The father turned his eyes, full of gratitude, toward heaven. He drewAntonio, inwardly trembling, close to his side and pressed his hands insilent thanks. Little Aladin caressed his sister and said: "How glad Iam that you are saved. If Antonio had not been here, the lion would haveeaten you. " The father and mother praised Antonio for his heroism. But Antonio wasonly too glad to have saved Almira; and at night he thanked God for thestrength and courage which He had sent him to save a human life. CHAPTER V THE OFFER In his whole life Antonio had never slept so peacefully as he did onthis night; never had he arisen from his bed in such a happy frame ofmind as on the following morning. He walked out into the garden andgazed for a long time at the sun, just peeping over the hills; hethought it had never shone so brightly. Never had the heavens appearedso blue or the flowers more vivid. Each dewdrop, too, seemed to be morebrilliant. All nature proclaimed itself friendlier than ever. With thefragrance of the flowers, his grateful prayer ascended to heaven. As hewent about gathering blossoms for the decoration of the house, he methis master, Ashmed, who wished him a pleasant good-morning. "Come with me; I have something important to tell you, " said Ashmed. He took Antonio affectionately by the hand and led him to a pathwaylined on both sides with flowering bushes, where they walked up and downfor a few moments in deep silence. After a short pause, Ashmed said: "Iam greatly indebted to you, Antonio. You have saved my child. Eachmoment I realize your bravery more and more fully. From this hour youshall no longer be my slave, but I will look upon you as my son. Youshall share all our joys. " For a moment Antonio seemed unable to utter a word, so completely was helost in thought and overcome with emotion. Oh, the delight of being oncemore free, with the possibility of some day clasping in his arms hisloved ones, still so far away. Suddenly awaking from his reverie, Antonio thanked Ashmed again and again. Resuming their walk, Antonio talked of his childhood and his home inItaly; and so tenderly and pathetically did he speak of his parents thatAshmed's heart was deeply moved. Appreciating the confidence and love which he felt drawing him closerand closer to the Turk, Antonio continued the conversation. He vividlydescribed his home and country, and expressed a great longing to visitthe familiar scenes again, and be clasped in the arms of his parents. This awoke in Ashmed a sense of the great loss which Antonio and hisparents had suffered. As he had on the previous day almost lost his dearAlmira, he now understood much better what the loss of a child couldmean. He began to think how noble it would be to restore Antonio to hisparents. He said nothing, however, and together they walked toward home. When Antonio entered the house he found Fatime awaiting her husband. "Good Antonio!" she cried, as he entered, "you certainly performed aheroic deed yesterday. You snatched my child from death's grasp, and youdid it at the risk of your own life. " "It was no more than my duty, " said Antonio. Then Almira took his hand and said: "Antonio, how good you were to saveme"; and she kissed him again and again. Fatime then led him to talk of himself, and became intensely interestedin the tale of his home and early training. Her mother's heart went outto the boy who had saved her child. Breakfast had been long delayed. As Ashmed now entered the room, themeal was soon dispatched, and the children went with Antonio to anadjoining room, where they sang and played till dinner time. CHAPTER VI THE PLANS Ashmed and Fatime withdrew to the library, and seated themselves toenjoy a quiet half-hour in conversation. "My dear husband, " said his wife, "I wish you had come a few momentssooner, and you would have heard a sad story. It was so full of love andlonging that if I could help Antonio get back to his mother I feel thatI should be repaying him, in a measure at least, for saving my child. Oh, how much better I understand now what a mother must feel at the lossof a child. " Ashmed's face brightened as he heard these words. "How thankful I amthat you are so minded, " said he. "I feel just as you do, and I wish todiscuss the matter fully with you. " Fatime was ready with plans at once. "You have, " said she, "often spokenof taking a trip to Italy and making your residence there. What couldbetter suit your purpose than to do it now. Our treasures of gold andsilver, pearls, diamonds and other valuables we could take with us. Ourlanded estates and all your wares we could sell. Let us do so as soon aspossible, and leave Algiers forever. " Ashmed praised his wife for her cleverness, and resolved to carry outher plans immediately. After a few more months of planning, he met with unusual success indisposing of his property, real and personal, and with his wife, thechildren and Antonio soon took passage on a steamer bound for Italy. As the city of Algiers receded from view, Ashmed and his family felthappy. Antonio was the happiest boy in the world. The thought of homeand parents made the voyage seem a short one to him; and soon the cityof Salerno could be seen in the distance. When the steamer reached port, Ashmed and his family took up their quarters at a hotel, while Antoniowas permitted to seek his home and family. One evening, as Antonio's parents were seated beneath a tree at the doorof their cottage, thinking and talking of their loved boy, there cametoward them a stranger. At first they did not recognize him as theirAntonio, for he had grown taller and his complexion browner; but whenthey looked into his face, they saw there such an expression of love andtenderness, that they immediately knew their son. Oh, the great joy ofthis meeting, and the embracing and hand-shaking! Words failed them; forthey were so overcome with emotion that they could not speak; but theydrew him in triumph into the house. Antonio removed his cloak and stoodbefore them, richly clad, suitable to his station. His mother soonprepared a sumptuous meal for him, and while partaking of it, he relatedto his parents the events that had occurred during his long absence. They wept over his woes, and rejoiced over his bravery, and praised himfor his steadfastness. At the end of the week Ashmed and his family called upon Antonio'speople. Ashmed honored them as if they were his own. He knew, too, thatthey had met with many financial losses, so he had made out a deed tothem, which he handed to them, saying: "As I have been benefited throughyou and your son, whom you trained so well, and who saved my child, Ifeel that it is my duty to share my fortune with you. Here is a deedwhich represents one-fourth of my wealth. " "No--no, " answered Antonio's father. "Far be it from me to accept onepenny. True, we are not rich; but neither are we poor, and in the returnof our long-lost Antonio we feel richly repaid. We offer you ourgratitude and thank you for your protection of him, and for yourgenerosity. " "I regret that you will not accept my offer, but I trust you will notprevent me from bestowing it upon your son, Antonio. He has been so welltested that I know riches will not spoil him. Here, my dear Antonio, take this deed. " "I, " answered Antonio, "cannot accept your handsome gift, but if I may, I would beg you to use your riches in behalf of those men who were takencaptive with me on that pirate ship, particularly the young lawyer, thepoor sailor and the old fisherman, and buy their freedom for them. Thereis a society here in Salerno which devotes its time and attention to theneeds of the outcast, the lost and the captive; and as it is in greatneed of funds, I know that your donation would be most acceptable to itand be productive of much good. I beg you to use the money in this way. A greater charitable work you can never perform. " Ashmed answered: "Not only half, but all of this money, I will give as aransom for the three unfortunates you name, and for many more. " This greatly pleased Antonio, and he said: "I thank you sincerely, and Iam sure that many blessings will be sent you in return. " CHAPTER VII RESTORED TO FREEDOM After searching for a suitable place to settle, Ashmed purchased abeautiful house not far from Antonio's home. The families exchangedvisits, and their friendly relations continued for years and years. Antonio resumed his studies at the best colleges, his tuition being paidby his friend and benefactor. One day, at Eastertide, Antonio returned home for a short visit. Ashmedand his family called upon Antonio, to whom they presented a letterwhich they had just received. In it, Antonio read the greetings whichhis friend, the lawyer, extended to him, together with thanks to him andAshmed for their kind helpfulness in securing his liberty for him. On the following day, as the guests were all seated at the table, aknock announced some strangers. They were the old fisherman and theyoung sailor who had been captives with Antonio, but were now free andhad come to offer their thanks. It was a touching sight. Ashmed said, "Don't thank me, but rather this boy. He is youremancipator. " "Yes, " said the old fisherman, "this is the boy who appeared to us, likean angel, and comforted us as we sat in chains. We now lay our thanksat his feet. " Antonio waved them back and said, "Thank my dear parents, for theytaught me by word and example; and everything I have done is due totheir training. " Then Antonio's father stepped into their midst and raising his eyes toheaven, said: "All honor and praise we give to God. As always, He hasmade everything turn out for the best. He sends us great sorrows forsome good purpose; but He also sends us great joys. When a child followsthe good instructions received from good parents, makes good use of histalents, and forgets not to be grateful, he will become an instrument ofgood for the benefit of humanity. Antonio was sent to you in yourcaptivity, and through Antonio you were all led back to your liberty. Let us give thanks. " After a long silence, the conversation again became animated. The mennarrated the varied incidents in their lives, and talked about theirfuture prospects. Ashmed gave the men some ready money with which to start in business, and they promised to repay him as soon as they were able. Ashmed did notwish the money refunded, but they felt that it would be more manly to dothis. As the time for departure arrived, the men bade Antonio and Ashmedgood-bye, and were off. The next day Antonio returned to college. He continued his studies therefor several years, and was graduated with high honors. In the course of time he became an opera singer of international fame. He always maintained a dignified bearing, free from any vanity; andrecognizing his gift as coming from God, accepted the praise andacclamation of the world in all humility. He found time in his busy life to help the needy, and later became adirector of the society which we have said was organized for the rescueof the outcast. He devoted his voice, his hands, his strength and hislife to the betterment of mankind. THE ARTIST'S MASTER-PIECE CHAPTERS. I. THE GIFT. II. UNDER THE EMPEROR'S BUSH. III. No PROPHET IN HIS OWN COUNTRY. IV. THE CONDITION. V. THE FULFILMENT. [Illustration: "Hans, undaunted, stepped up to her father. "] THE ARTIST'S MASTERPIECE CHAPTER I THE GIFT A little village with its scattered glimmering lights lay in peacefuldreams. Just as a black swan draws her young under her, so the mightyCathedral rested in the midst of the low houses, which seemed to creep, like birds, under its wing. It struck twelve from the church tower, and larger and smaller clocks, near and far, carried the message onward. Dead silence again hoveredover the sleeping village. Just as dawn bathed the hills in sunlight, two stately men wanderedalong the Cathedral Square. One seemed somewhat older, with his fullgray beard. His hair, rich and abundant, curled beneath his velvet cap. He walked so majestically that one could see, at the very first glance, that he was no ordinary person, but one upon whose shoulders aninvisible weight rested. Handsome, tall and noble, just as one wouldpicture the highest type of man--a king from head to foot. Here, in the little village of Breisach, as he named it, EmperorMaximilian liked to rest from the cares of his Empire. Here, in thislittle retreat, filled with calm and quietude, he loved to wander. Fromhere he sent letters full of tender thoughts to his daughter in theNetherlands. He loved the place well, and christened it "Care-Free. " As Emperor Maximilian walked proudly, but with heavy tread, along theparapet of the Cathedral Square, his eye rested upon the gay scene athis feet. To-day the invisible world of care pressed heavily upon hisshoulders. Suddenly he stood still, and turning to his privatesecretary, he said, "I wonder who those children are who are soindustriously planting a rose-bush in the niche of the wall?" The children, a girl and a boy (the former about eight, and the lattertwelve years of age), were so engrossed in their work that they had notnoticed the approach of the Emperor, until his presence was so near thatit startled them. They turned full face upon him. Then the boy touchedthe girl and said, "It's the Emperor!" "What are you doing there?" he asked, and his artistic eye feasted onthe beauty of this charming pair. "We are planting a rose-bush, " said the boy, undaunted. The Emperor smiled, and said, "What is your name?" "Hans Le Fevre, sir. " "And the little one, is she your sister?" "No, she is Marie, our neighbor's child. " "Ah!--you like each other very much?" "Yes, when I'm old enough, and when I own a knife, I'm going to marryher. " The Emperor opened his eyes wide, and said, "Why do you need a knife?" "Surely, " answered the boy, earnestly, "if I have no knife I cannot cut, and if I cannot cut I can earn no money. My mother has always said thatwithout money one cannot marry. Besides, I should have to have muchmoney to enable me to marry my little friend Marie, as she is theCounselor's daughter. " "But, " questioned the Emperor, "what do you want to cut?" "Wood!" "Ha! ha! I understand. You want to be a wood-carver. Now, I rememberthat I once met two young boys, named Le Fevre. They were studying inNürnberg, with Dürer, 'The Prince of Artists. ' Were they, perhaps, yourrelatives?" "Yes, my cousins, and once I saw them carve, and I would like to learnhow, too; but my father and uncle are dead, and my mother never buys mea knife. " The Emperor thrust his hand into his pocket, and after much fumbling andjingling, pulled out a knife with an artistically carved handle. "Willthat do?" said he. The boy flushed, and one could see how beneath his coarse, torn shirthis heart beat with joy. "Yes, " stammered the boy, "it's beautiful. " "Well, take it and use it diligently, " said the Emperor. The boy took the treasure from the Emperor's hand as carefully as if itwere red hot and might burn his fingers. "I thank you many times!" was all that he could say; but in his darkeyes there beamed a fire of joy whose sparks of love and gratitudeelectrified the Emperor. "Would you like to go to your cousins in Nürnberg, and help them inplate-engraving! There's plenty of work there. " "I would like to go to Dürer in Nürnberg, but I don't want to be aplate-engraver. I would rather cut figures that look natural. " "That's right, " said the Emperor, "you will be a man, indeed; alwayshold to that which is natural and you will not fail. " At that moment the Emperor drew a leather bag from his velvet ridingjacket and gave it to the boy. "Be careful of it. Save the golden florins within; give them to no one. Remember, the Emperor has ordered that they be used toward youreducation. Study well, and when you are full-grown and able to travel, then go to Dürer, in Nürnberg. Convey to him my greetings; say to himthat, as I, while in his studio one day, held the ladder for him lest hefall, so should he now hold the ladder of fame for you, that you may beable to climb to the very top of it. Will you promise me all that, myboy?" "Yes, your majesty!" cried Hans, inspired, and, seizing the Emperor'sright hand, he shook it heartily and kissed it. Then the Emperor passedon, while the boy stood there in a dream. Marie still held tightly toher apron. Just at that moment a servant appeared who had been in search of Marie. The children ran to meet her and related their experience with theEmperor. The servant called all the townsfolk together to see the knifeand the contents of the bag, but wise Hans kept the bag closed. The next day the Emperor rode off; but for many days to come his talkwith Hans was the town topic. "Surely, it is no wonder, " said theenvious ones. "Hans always was a bold boy and knew how to talk up forhimself, so why shouldn't he know how to talk to the Emperor?" Thisspeech was decidedly undeserved; but Hans was too young to understandtheir meanness. He was absorbed in the Emperor's greatness andkindliness. CHAPTER II UNDER THE EMPEROR'S BUSH Years passed. Hans Le Fevre lost his mother and Marie hers; and closerand closer did the bond of companionship draw these children. In the evening, when her father was busy with a committee-meeting andthe housekeeper was gossiping with the neighbors, Hans and Marie wouldclimb the garden wall. Here they would sit together, while Hans cutbeautiful toys for her, such as no child of those times had. He wouldtalk with her about all the beautiful pictures and carvings he hadlately seen, and of the masters in the art of wood-carving; for now hewas attending art lectures and studying hard. Hours were spent in thisway; but often, when the opportunity offered, they would run off to theCathedral and water the rose-bush, which Hans had now christened the"Emperor's Bush. " There they loved best to linger, for there they hoped always that theEmperor would return. And often they would cry out aloud, "Your Majesty, Your Majesty, come again!" But their voices died away unanswered; for, far from them, the Emperorwas concerned with the affairs of State. The children waited for him invain. The Emperor came no more. As the time went by, the children grew, and the rose-bush grew also. Just as if the tender threads of love in their hearts had unconsciouslyentwined them as one around the roots of the little bush, it keptdrawing them to itself, there in the niche of the wall. There they foundeach other, day after day. The bush was like a true friend, who heldtheir two hands fast in his. But their true friend was not strong enoughto hold together what other people wished to separate. The lovely, highly respected Counselor's daughter was no longerpermitted to meet Hans. Her father forbade her one day, saying that Hanswas not only poor but was not even a native of the town. His ancestorswere Hollanders who had wandered into Breisach. A stranger he was, and apoor stranger at that. He was a sort of Pariah and could not be fittedinto their time-honored customs. Then, too, he did not pursue anyregular trade. "He expects to be an artist. " At that time that was asgood as to be a robber, or a tramp or a conjurer. Whatever Hans did or whatever he worked at, he kept a secret. He hadbought the little house in which he dwelt, and since his mother's deathhad lived there all alone. Nobody came or went, except a famous sculptorwho had quarreled one day with a native in Breisach and been obliged toleave the town. People said that Hans helped him get away. Ever sincethat time Hans had been in ill-repute with his rich neighbor, theCounselor. Often Hans met Marie at the "Emperor's Bush, " and these little meetingsseemed to make them like each other more than they had ever dreamed. After Hans had missed Marie for many days, he sang a little song beneathher window. The next day she met Hans at the "Emperor's Bush, " and there theypromised to be true to each others always. Then, in a moment of ecstasy, Hans cried out, "Would that the Emperor were here!" Just as if he feltthat no one but the Emperor was worthy of sharing his great joy. As the Emperor did not come, Hans cut the initials "M. " and "H. " in thebark of the rosebush, and above it a little crown. This meant "Marie, Hans and Emperor Maximilian. " The fall passed and winter came; and the children now seldom saw eachother. Hans sang so frequently beneath Marie's window that her fatherheard him one night, and in great anger threatened to punish her if shecontinued her acquaintance with this boy. One evening Hans and Marie stood for the last time under the rose-bushwhich they had planted eight years before. He was now a youth of twentyyears; she a rosebud of sixteen summers. It was a lowering day in February. The snow had melted and a light windshook the bare branches of the bush. With downcast eyes she had relatedto him all she had been forced to hear concerning him; and big tearsrolled down her cheeks. "Marie, " said the boy in deep grief, "I suppose you will finally be madeto believe that I am really a bad person?" Then she looked full upon him, and a light smile played over herfeatures as she said: "No, Hans, never, never. No one can make me doubtyou. They do not understand you, but I do. You have taught me (what theothers do not know) everything that is good and great and noble. Youhave made me what I am; just as your artistic hands have cut beautifulforms out of dead wood. " She took his big, brown hands and gentlypressed them to her lips. "I believe in you, for you worship the Supremewith your art; and the man who does that, in word or deed, cannot bewicked. " "And will you always remain true, Marie, till I have perfected myselfand my art, and can return to claim you?" "Yes, Hans, I will wait for you; and should I die before you return, itis here under this rosebush, where we have spent so many happy hours, that I wish to be buried. You must return here to rest, when wearied byyour troubles; and every rose-leaf that falls upon you will be a goodwish from me. " Her tears fell silently, and their hearts were sorely tried by the griefof parting. "Don't cry, " said Hans, "all will yet be well. I am going to Dürer, asthe Emperor bade me. I will learn all that I can; and when I feel I knowsomething, I will seek the Emperor, wherever he may be, tell him mydesires, and beg him to intercede for me with your father. " "Oh, yes, the Emperor--if he were only here, he would help us. " "Perhaps he will come again, " said Hans. "We will pray that he be sentto us, or I to him. " They sank upon their knees in the cold, soft winter grass; and it seemedto them as if a miracle would be performed, and the rose-bush be changedinto the Emperor. There--what was that? The big clock on the church struck slowly, solemnly, sadly-- The two looked up. "What is it, do you suppose? A fire--enemies, perhaps? I sense a great calamity, " said she. Just at that moment people were coming toward the church. Hans hurriedup to them, to find out what was the trouble, while Marie waited. "Where have you been, that you don't know? Why, yonder in the marketplace the notice was read--'the Emperor is dead!'" they cried. "The Emperor is dead?" There stood Hans, paralyzed. All his hopes seemed shattered. As soon asquiet reigned again, he returned to Marie, and seated himself on abench. Leaning his head in uncontrollable grief against the slender stemof the rose-bush, he moaned aloud: "Oh, my Emperor, my dear, goodEmperor, why did you leave me?" Lightly Marie touched his shoulder insympathy. The last rays of the setting sun had now departed. The last tones of thedirge had died away. Everything was still and deserted, as if therecould never again be spring. "Oh, Marie!" lamented Hans, hopelessly, "the King will never comeagain. " "Bear up, " said Marie, "for we have each other. " And as she gazed faroff in the twilight, her eyes seemed like two exiled stars, yearninglyseeking their home. As Hans gazed at her, standing there before him with her hands crossedover her breast, in all her purity and humility, a great joy lit up hiscountenance. He folded his hands, inspired. "Marie, " he whispered, "let us not despair. In this very moment I havereceived an inspiration, and if I can bring to pass that which I now seein my mind's eye, I shall be an artist who will need the help of no one--not even an Emperor. " The dawn of the next day found Hans ready to set out on his journey. Hecarried a knapsack on his back, and on his breast the little leather bagwhich the Emperor had given him, with the few florins that remained. Heclosed the door of his little house, put the key into his pocket, andwalked slowly off. Loud and clear sounded his rich, soft voice as hesang, "On the rose thorn, on the rose thorn, there my hope is hanging!" Softly in Marie's house a window was raised, and with a little whitehandkerchief she gently waved her mute farewell. Quickly mastering himself, Hans grasped his staff more firmly, and nowonly his heavy tread echoed through the streets. CHAPTER III NO PROPHET IN HIS OWN COUNTRY Year after year passed. Hans Le Fevre had not been heard from. Peoplethought of him, however, when they passed his house with the front doorfirmly locked and the shades drawn, and wondered who would next layclaim to it. Only Marie thought constantly of him, and hoped and waited longingly. Nopleading, no scolding, no threats could arouse her. She never left thehouse, unless it was to visit the rose-bush which she watered and tendedso well that it had now grown tall and stately. She knew that the sightof it would cheer his faithful heart on his return. It was the only bondbetween them. He had planted it with her, and they both loved it. It wasalmost as high as the niche where it stood, and seemed as if it wishedto stretch beyond. Marie bent it and fastened it to the wall with astring, so that its flowering top had to bend beneath the vaulted niche. These quiet acts were her only joy, her only recreation. In work andprayer she passed her days, and her fresh young cheeks began to pale. Her father noticed the change, but without pity. It was fortunate for her that his busy life took him away from home sooften. Just at this time the people of Breisach desired a new altar for theirchurch. A proclamation was accordingly sent forth to all German artiststo compete, by submitting drawings and estimates for the work. To theone who sent the best the contract would be given to carry out thedesign. Marie heard little about this, as she seldom came in contact with thepeople. She lived lonely in her little home. It was now the fifth yearsince Hans' departure, and long ago his letters had ceased to come, because her father had forbidden any correspondence. Hans had no friendsin Breisach through whom he could communicate. But such uncertaintygnaws. Marie was tired of waiting--very tired. One afternoon she seated herself at her desk and started to write herlast wish. Her father was absent, and she was unwatched. "When I die, " she wrote, "I beg you to bury me yonder beside theCathedral wall, under the rose-bush which I planted in my childhood. Should Hans Le Fevre ever return, I beg you--" she paused, for just thena song, at first soft, then louder, greeted her ears. No star ever fell from heaven, no swallow ever flew more quickly thanflew the maiden to her window, drawn by this call. In trembling tones the final words of the song died away. Her paper, herink, her pen, everything had fallen from her in her haste. As a captivebird, freed from its cage, flies forth joyously, so Marie bounded forthfrom her home. Faster and faster she went, never stopping till shereached the rose-bush. Breathless and with beating heart, she halted. There before her stood Hans Le Fevre. They seated themselves upon the bench. Long, long they sat silently. At last Hans said, "My dear, true girl, how pale you have grown. Are youill?" She shook her head. "No more, and I trust never again. But you stayedaway much too long. Couldn't you have come back sooner?" "No, my dear, I could _not_. Had I returned as a poor, strugglingcarver your father would have banished me from his door-step. We shouldthen have seen each other again, only to be parted for the second time. So I waited till I had accomplished what I set out to do. I havetraveled extensively and feasted my eyes on the beautiful works of artin great cities. I have studied under Dürer, and now my name ismentioned with honor as one of Dürer's pupils. " "Oh, Hans, do you really believe that that will soften my father'sheart?" said Marie, anxiously. "Yes, Marie, I don't think that he can fail me. I heard in Nürnberg thata new altar is to be built in this Cathedral, so I hastened here tocompete. Should I be deemed worthy to do such a piece of work, whatcould your father have against me?" Marie, however, shook her head doubtfully; but Hans was full of hope. "But see how our rose-bush has grown!" cried Hans in astonishment. "Youtended it well; but it seems almost as if the roses had taken from youall your life and strength and health. Return my darling's strength toher, " Hans said laughingly; and taking a handful of roses, he softlystroked her face with them; but her cheeks remained white. "Rejoice, my rosebud, rejoice, my darling, for the spring will soon behere; and with my care you will soon be well. " A half hour later, the beadle walked timidly into the council hall ofthe high-gabled Council House, and said, "Honored Counselor, will yougraciously pardon me, but there is a man without who pressingly begs tobe ushered into your presence. " "Who is it?" asked the Counselor. "It is Hans Le Fevre, " answered the beadle, "but he is handsomelyattired. I hardly recognized him. " This was a great surprise to all. Hans, the runaway, the tramp, whoslipped away by night--to me. "See! see! ingeniously thought out, " criedhe. "But just to design a thing is far easier than to carry it out, " saidanother. "Hans Le Fevre never did this kind of work before. " "Perhaps he has progressed, " remarked the Mayor, "and possibly he woulddo it cheaper than the renowned Master Artist. " This idea took root. "But, " said one, "it would be an unheard of thingto give such an exalted work to a simple boy like Hans Le Fevre, whomeverybody knew as a stupid child, and whom we looked upon disdainfully. The appearance of the thing alone would not justify us in selectinghim. " But this remark had its good side, too; for the gentlemen now decidedthat, in order that the work be given to the most competent, it would beadvisable to send to Dürer all the designs thus far submitted, and askhis opinion in the matter. Marie cried bitterly when she heard of the treatment Hans had received;but Hans did not yet despair. At the same time that these worthygentlemen dispatched the designs to Dürer, Hans sent a letter to hisgreat friend and teacher, in whom he had great faith. Weeks elapsed. The Counselor's attention was directed to affairs ofstate, and thus withdrawn from his daughter, who lived and bloomed withthe returning spring. Hans had opened his desolate house, for which, in the meantime, he hadcarved a beautiful front door. Notwithstanding all the depreciationexpressed for the native artist's ability, this door caused quite asensation. Dürer's answer was long delayed. At last, after four weeks, the letterarrived. Who can describe the astonishment of the assembled committee, as the contents of the letter revealed the design of the disdainfullyrejected applicant, Hans Le Fevre. Dürer wrote, "With the very best intentions, I could recommend no wisercourse for you to pursue than to use the sketch presented by my friendand pupil, Hans Le Fevre; and I will furnish security for the completeexecution of his plan. I cannot understand how a town that harbors inits midst such a genius, should look abroad for other artists. Hans LeFevre is such an honorable lad and such a great artist, that the town ofBreisach should be proud to name him as her own, and should doeverything in its power to hold him captive; for to Hans the world liesopen, and only his attachment to Breisach has moved him to return thereonce more. " Directly upon receipt of this letter, an unheard of number of villagerscrowded the narrow street. Hans, who was working quietly in his shop ranto the window to see what the noise was about. But lo! the crowd hadstopped at his house and loudly did they make the brazen knockerresound, as it struck the carved lion's head upon the door. Hans came forth, and before him stood a deputation of men in festiveattire, followed by a throng of residents. "What do you desire of me?" asked Hans, surprised. "Hans Le Fevre, " began the speaker, "the honorable Counselor makes knownto you that he has finally decided to honor your application, with theinstruction that if money be needed for the purchase of materials, application may be made to the clerk of the town. " Hans clapped his hands in glee. "Is it true--is it possible!" said he. "To whom am I indebted for this good fortune?" "The Council sends you this letter which we will now read before theseassembled people. " Hans had not noticed in his joy that his neighbor, the Counselor, had angrily closed his windows, as if the praise bestowedupon the young artist might offend his ears. After the deputation had departed, and Hans found himself alone, hedressed, put a flower in his buttonhole, and walked over to theCounselor's house; for now the moment had arrived when he could provehis worth. CHAPTER IV THE CONDITION Marie opened the door. A loud cry of joy escaped her, and she ran to herroom. Hans, undaunted, stepped up to her father. "What do you wish?" said the Counselor, with flashing eyes. "I wish first to thank you for your faith in me. " "You need not thank me, " interrupted her father. "I did not cast my votefor you. " "So?" said Hans, disappointed. "That was not kind. What did you have tosay against me?" "What, do you still ask the same old question? You well know my opinionof you. You know that I wish my daughter to marry a good and honorableman. " "Well, " said Hans, "I know a worthy man and I have come to bring himbefore you. " "Pray, who can he be?" "I, worthy Counselor. " "You? Did anyone ever hear such audacity from a beggar boy?" "Mr. Counselor, I never was a beggar. I was poor, but let that personcome before you who dares say he ever gave me a cent. My fathersupported me until his death, when my mother took up the burden. Theonly thing I ever received was the King's gift, and for that I neverbegged. The King gave it to me out of his big heart. His eye couldpierce with love the soul of humanity; and in me, a poor boy, he sensedappreciation. Truly, his money has accumulated interest. I am no beggar, Mr. Counselor, and will not tolerate such a speech. " "No, you will not tolerate it;" said he, somewhat calmed. "Where, then, is your wealth?" "Here, " said Hans Le Fevre, and he touched his head and his hands. "Ihave a thinking head and skilled hands. " "Well, what do you purpose doing?" "For the next two years I shall be busy with the altar, which will yieldme ample means to marry your daughter. " Long and wearily they argued, till Hans felt as if he could controlhimself no longer. "O, patience!" he cried, "if it were not that I regard you as somethingholy, because you are the father of Marie, I would not brook yourdisdain. A king held the ladder for Dürer, and a Counselor treats hisbeloved pupil like a rogue. Yonder is a laughing, alluring world. ThereI have enjoyed all the honors of my calling; and here, in this littledark corner of the earth, I must let myself be trodden upon. All becauseI bring a ray of sunshine and beauty that hurts your blinded eyes--inshort, because I am an artist. " "Go, then, into your artistic world. Why didn't you stay there? Why didyou bother to return to this dark corner, as you name it?" "Because I love your daughter so much, that no sacrifice I could makewould be too great. " "Did you for one moment think that I could sink so far as to allow mydaughter to marry an artist?" "Yes, considering the respect I enjoyed. " "Well, I don't care how many times the King held the ladder, or whetheror not he cleaned Dürer's shoes, I will hold to this: that as impossibleas it is for you to build within the Cathedral an altar that is yethigher than the Cathedral, just so impossible is it for you to marry mydaughter, who is so much above you in station. " "Mr. Counselor, is this your last word?" said Hans. The Counselor laughed scornfully, and said, "Carve an altar that ishigher than the church in which it is to stand. Then, and not beforethen, you may ask for my daughter. " Hans hastened from his presence and turned his steps to the rose-bush. It was a beautiful day. Shadowless the world lay before him. Splendorand glory streamed from the sky. But nature in all her beauty seemed tohim, this day, like a disinterested friend, who laughs while anothergrieves. He seated himself in the niche under the rose-bush, wheresomehow he always felt the Emperor's presence and influence, and where, too, he always found peace and hope. But what hope could ever come to him again? Could the bush uproot itselfand plead with the Counselor? Could the King, who had never returned inlife, return from death to help him? No one could help him, for had notthe Counselor taken an oath, that he would not give his daughter to him, unless he built an altar higher than the church in which it shouldstand. This, of course, was impossible. His overcharged feelings gavevent to tears, and he cried, "My Emperor, my Emperor, why did you desertme?" This time Marie was not at his side to cheer him, and tell him thatGod would not desert him. All was still, except the humming of the bees among the roses; and inthe distance the birds sang. All of a sudden something struck him in theback. He thought that maybe the Emperor had returned. But what was itbut the rosebush, which by the force of its own weight had looseneditself from the arched wall and had pressed itself outward. For thefirst time, Hans noticed that the bush had grown much higher than theniche in which it had been planted. As quick as lightning a thoughtflashed through his brain. What had the rose-bush taught him? CHAPTER V THE FULFILMENT Hans could not see Marie, for her father had sent her far away. From early morn till late at night Hans worked, without rest or quiet. Neither pleadings nor threats moved him to desist from his labors. Helived like a hermit in his workshop. Two long years had passed; and atlast Hans appeared at the Council Chamber and made known the fact thathe had accomplished the work assigned him. Great excitement reigned in Breisach. The Cathedral was locked for threedays, during which time the altar was to be placed. Many inquisitiveneighbors gathered around the Cathedral to get a glimpse of the work, ifpossible. But well-wrapped and concealed, Hans brought the pieces, oneby one, from his house--and so the excitement grew intenser everymoment. On the fourth day the altar was to be dedicated. Early in the day thepeople started for the Cathedral. Joyously the big clock resounded. Fromall sides, by foot and by wagon, the country folk swarmed to see thewonderful work, the talk of the neighborhood for the past two years. At break of day Hans had hastened to the Cathedral once more to test hiswork with his critical eye. Just then the bell pealed forth. He droppedhis hat, and with folded hands offered a short prayer. Anyone who has worked for years, in the sweat of his brow, for futureand fortune, knows how Hans felt as he stood there in his muteeloquence. His God understood it, too. Now the crowd surged into the Cathedral, and the critical moment hadarrived when the artist gave his work, executed through long, lonelydays and nights, freely to the public eye. One last look he cast uponhis creation, then he withdrew, and in anxious suspense watched theimpression it would make upon the assembled people. The morning sun sent her full rays directly upon the altar, and anexclamation of astonishment echoed from the high-vaulted roof. Joy andwonder filled each breast. There stood the altar before the people inall its glory. Was it really wood--stiff, hard wood--from which thesefigures had been carved? Were they not human? And that host of angelsthat seemed to be singing "Hallelujah, " each one so perfectly natural. All figures were life size. The entire work was entwined and crownedwith wreaths of artistically carved foliage, the center branch of whichreached upward to the arched ceiling. The untrained eye of the simple villagers could not all at once, drinkin such a work. Not one of them had ever beheld the like. They feltthere must be some magic in it. They now crowded around the artist, who, modest and deeply affected, felt every eye that beamed upon him. TheMayor stepped forward and heartily shook him by the hand. Each onefollowed his example, except the Counselor, who leaned sullenly againsta pillar. Marie, who had been permitted to return for this occasion, stood besideher father, paler than ever, but with a heavenly expression in hercharming face. "Do you not notice that one of the angels on the altar resembles Marie?"said one to the other. "True it is. " "And that another angel resembles the Emperor Maximilian?" said an oldman. Like lightning, this news flew from row to row. Marie and theEmperor had been portrayed. "Yes, my friends, " said Hans, calmly and distinctly, "I did that becauseI know of nothing more beautiful in the world than the Emperor andMarie. God made people in His image, and the sculptor, who is like acreator, has the right to choose those forms which he feels are mostlike the Image. " "Well said, " echoed from all sides. Now Hans, with bold strides, neared the bench where the Counselor satwith his daughter. "I still have something to say to you, and you must hear me. I havefully carried out your behest. Will you now keep your oath? You demandedof me what seemed impossible; namely, 'To build an altar higher than theChurch in which it should stand, ' and you solemnly vowed, that if Iaccomplished this, I should wed your daughter. Now, Mr. Counselor, lookup. The altar is exactly one foot higher than the Church, and yet itstands within the Church--I have merely bent the top of it. " The Counselor saw it and paled. He had not dreamed of such a thing. Itsickened him; but, as Counselor, in all propriety and dignity, he wouldhave to keep his word before these assembled people. A long pause ensued. Hans kept his patience. Then the Counselor arose, and taking his daughter by the hand, presented her to Hans, saying, "ACounselor should never break his word. There, take my child. You havefulfilled the condition and I keep my vow. " Two young boys hastily brought in some branches from the rose-bush, andwove wreaths for the pair. With loud approval, they crowned the masterand his bride. Humbly, Hans removed his crown, and laid it on the altar. "These roses belong to God. With them He saved me. Do you notice, Marie, " said he, as he pointed upward to the curved top of the altar, "that's what the rose-bush taught me. To you, Mr. Counselor, I would saythat one may bend and still be greater than the one who causes him tostoop. " A few weeks later, Hans and Marie were married at this altar. It was awedding the elegance of which surprised Breisach. For his work thegrateful town had paid Hans a sum of money which, for that period, was asmall fortune. Marie's father paid all the expenses which this occasion demanded. Bythis time he realized how unreasonable he had been, and did all in hispower to make amends. Besides, he now respected his artist son-in-law, and for many years he lived with the couple in peace and happiness. THE VINEYARD ON THE HILLSIDE CHAPTERS. I. MISSING. II. THE FAITHFUL DOG. III. THE FOND FOSTER-PARENTS. IV. THE ERRAND. V. THE OLD MAN. VI. THE LEGACY. VII. THE JOURNEY. [Illustration: "They reached the cradle and discovered the child init. "] THE VINEYARD ON THE HILLSIDE CHAPTER I MISSING Many years ago, in a quaint little village bordering the bank of theRhine River, there lived a hard-working farmer, named Joseph Swift, andhis industrious wife, Caroline. Their neat little white cottage stood very near the edge of the water, where on the bright, sunny days it was beautifully reflected. On oneside of the cottage, there jutted out into the river a little hill, overgrown with grapevines which Joseph had planted, and which as aresult of training and watchfulness yielded him abundant fruit. South ofthe house there stretched a field, bordered on all sides by leafyshrubbery. This plot of ground was used by Mrs. Swift as a bleachery, and through her industry and carefulness she succeeded in making herlinen snow-white, so that all the housewives of that village andneighboring town brought her their linens to bleach. In this way Joseph Swift and his good little wife earned their dailybread and a little more to lay by for time of need. A big brown dog guarded the bleachery during the spring and summermonths; but in the early fall, when the grapes were ripening, hetransferred his attention to the vineyard. During the entire year, andparticularly in the long winter months, the house was his particularcare. The little family lived happily and contentedly in simplicity and love. These good people found their greatest joy and richest treasure uponearth in their five little children. The youngest was a baby, less thana year old. They trained them with the greatest care, and taught them towork and pray. The children had a living example of goodness anduprightness in their parents. This happy household, however, was soon toexperience a great change. A cold, hard winter had set in and covered the fields and house-topswith many blankets of snow. The river had frozen; and the people fearedthat when the ice-floes and the immense quantity of snow began to melt, the river would overflow its banks. Weeks passed and at last a thaw set in. The ice and snow began to melt. The brooks and rivulets swiftly carried the water to the great river. Joseph Swift and his family retired early one night, and lay wrapped indeep sleep. About midnight, the father's slumbers were broken by thetones of the village clock. As he became more and more awake, he heard agreat splashing of water. Hastily jumping out of his bed, he seized his clothing and rushed tofind out the cause of the disturbance. But so much water had filled thehall that for a moment it seemed as if he could go no further. Hemanaged, however, to push along. As he opened the door of the house, thewater rushed in with such force and volume that it almost tore him fromhis footing. He sprang back into the bed-room and cried: "Oh, Caroline, Caroline, help me save our children!" Caroline, half awake, tumbled out of bed and wrapped a garment aroundeach child. Then both parents made strides to reach the vineyard on thehill. The water rushed against them with such violence that they nearly sankwith their load. The night was dark, for the moon had long since goneunder and heavy clouds obscured the stars. The rain was falling intorrents and a dreadful wind raged about them. The water so filled thestreets and by-ways that the Swifts thought each moment would be theirlast. The children, half asleep, were crying loudly. From each housestill louder cries reached their ears. In the distance, lamps began to flash their lights. Hundreds of peoplecould be seen striving with all their might to reach the hill. On allsides difficulties and dangers confronted them. Near the low window of a little hut, there stood a weeping mother withher children. She passed them, one after the other, to her husband, whostood in water up to his waist and could scarcely keep an uprightposition. In another place, grown sons were carrying an invalid mother, fleeingwith difficulty on account of their heavy burden. Some brave, humane menhurried along with boats and brought them safely to the hill. Mrs. Swift, with a child on each arm, was overthrown. Her husband, equally burdened with two other children, could render her noassistance. Two stalwart men rushed toward her, however, and broughtmother, children, and father to the neighboring hill. Some men gathered sticks, and after many futile attempts at last starteda fire on the hill, so that the drenched people might dry themselves. As Mrs. Swift, breathless and in a half-dazed condition, reached thehill top, she looked at her children and uttered a loud cry: "Where ismy baby, where is my Edward?" The child--the baby--who had lain in acradle at the mother's bedside, was missing. The water had rushed into the house in such volume that the cradle hadbegun to move, and was carried along gradually by the force of thewater, till it passed out unnoticed through the open door. The motherhad tried to reach the cradle in the darkness; but, not finding it, shehad concluded that the father had taken the cradle and the baby to aplace of safety, and so she had given all her attention to the otherchildren. But now, discovering her mistake, she wrung her hands in griefand cried pitifully. She started to return to her home to seize herchild from so dreadful a fate, but the father held her in his strongarms. "Stay, " said he, "you could never reach our house safely. The water isrising too quickly and is too powerful. I will go and rescue our child. Our helpful neighbors will go with me. " "Yes, willingly, " said the two men who had just helped Mrs. Swift. Armed with long poles which they could thrust into the ground and withwhich they could steady themselves, they started forth by the light of alantern. All the people on the hill watched those three men tremblingly. At lastthe light died away in the distance. Still they looked, although theycould distinguish nothing. They only heard the dreadful rushing of thewaters, the sighing of the winds, and from time to time the crash of afalling house. Mrs. Swift waited with bated breath for the return of her husband andhis faithful assistants. An hour had passed and nothing could be heardor seen of them. Her fears increased each moment. At last the fatherreturned, with saddened countenance. One of his assistants said: "It wasimpossible to reach your house, my good woman; the water was too deep. We were in water up to our necks and were almost drowned. " Then the other man spoke up and said: "But don't give up hope, for manybrave men have been helping, all along the way. Before the water got theupper hand, they went about with lanterns, rousing the people. Perhapsthey have cared for the baby in its cradle. " Many people, laden with household goods, reached the hill from time totime, but the cradle never appeared and no one knew the whereabouts ofthe baby. After the dreadful night, the dawn at last broke forth; rain and stormsubsided; the clouds rolled away and the morning sun streaked thehorizon in flaming red. From the people gathered about the fire, there arose a dreadful cry ofdismay. By the morning light, they saw that half of their village hadbeen submerged. Mr. Swift's house, with many others, had been swept away by the flood. Many a house stood roofless and in a state of threatened collapse. People cried for the loss of their homes, but Mrs. Swift cried for theloss of her babe. "Though everything be gone, " said she, "I should carenot, had I but my child. " Poor Mr. Swift, too, was more concerned abouthis baby than about his other losses, and it was with a great effortthat he controlled his feelings. The children lamented the loss of their brother as well as that of theirbig pet dog, Rover. Meanwhile, from the neighboring towns, many people had come in boats, brought the homeless ones provisions and clothing, and offered themshelter in their own homes. This was a great comfort for theunfortunates. Mr. Swift accepted their hospitality for that night. "To-morrowmorning, " said he, "I will try to reach my brother's home, where I knowI can be housed with my family until the spring. Then I will rebuild myhome and help my neighbors build theirs. Let us not forget that if wefaithfully do our best, God will not forsake us. Perhaps this calamitymay in time bring us some blessing. " CHAPTER II THE FAITHFUL DOG Shortly after the Swifts fled, on the night of the flood, the walls oftheir house had fallen with a thud, and only the strong beams remainedstanding. By the time the house collapsed, the baby in its cradle haddrifted many miles down the river, along the banks of which much damagehad been wrought. The cradle passed a village which had been built on aneminence and had consequently escaped. The villagers who had gathered near the shore saw various householdgoods floating down the river; there a table, here a chair, yonder atrunk, and in one place even the entire roof of a house. Two daring boys ventured to stand as near the water's edge as possible, in order to see things a little better. All of a sudden one of the boyscried: "Oh, see, there is a cradle afloat in mid-stream!" The other boy, whose sight was keener, shouted: "See, a dog is swimming after it and istrying to push it toward the shore!" Several strong men standing near-by had long hooked poles, and werebusily engaged dragging things out of the river. One of them, a youngfisherman, saw the cradle and cried: "A baby must be in that cradle, because the dog would not bother about an empty cradle. Up, brothers, up, let us try to save the child. Let not the fidelity and bravery of adog put us to shame. " Notwithstanding the threatening danger of being crushed to death by therushing ice-floes, the men launched a boat and jumped into it. Theyreached the cradle and discovered the child in it. They placed cradleand babe in their boat and brought them safely to land. The people rushed forward and crowded around the cradle to look at theinfant. Among the spectators were a gentleman and his wife, named Trent. "Oh, what a beautiful child, " cried Mrs. Trent, as she bent over thebaby. "See how peacefully it sleeps, not knowing through what dangers ithas passed, not dreaming it has been saved. " Mrs. Trent had lately lost a dear little baby, so she approached herhusband and said: "Do see how this babe resembles our lost Isabel; andit seems to be of the same age. Let me take this child, and if itsparents cannot be found, I will be a mother to it. " Mr. Trent smiled pleasantly, nodded his head and said: "Well, well, takeit. Let us not be less sympathetic than these three men, and thatpitying dog. " By this time the poor dog had reached the shore, and stood shaking thewater from his coat; so that the bystanders had to rush aside to escapea good wetting. Then he began to bark with joy and wag his tail, springing first at this one, then at that one, as if to express histhanks for the baby's rescue. Mr. Trent noticed this, and said: "See how thankful this dog is, andhuman beings should never be less thankful. " He took some gold coins outof his pocket, and handed two to each of the three fishermen. Theyhesitated, not wishing to take the money. "What we have done was purelyout of love for humanity and without any thought of reward, " said they. Mr. Trent was pleased with them, and said: "Yes, I understand andrealize how very noble it is of you to refuse a reward for yourself-sacrificing services, but I must insist that you take it. " "Well, then, " said the younger fisherman, "we will accept the money andhelp our poor brothers in the neighboring villages who have suffered somany losses during this flood. " The dog had now passed through the crowd. His loud barks of joy hadawakened the babe, and it started to cry. Mrs. Trent raised the child inher arms and kissed it. It looked about as if it were seeking something. "You are looking for your mother, " said she, "but little do we knowwhere she is. Cry not, my dear, I will be your mother. " She then carried it into her house, while the two fishermen followedwith the cradle. The faithful dog did not wait for an invitation, butfollowed of his own accord. CHAPTER III THE FOND FOSTER-PARENTS Mrs. Trent hastily heated some milk, and with a small spoon she fed thefoster-child. Then she dressed it in fine clothes which had belonged toIsabel, and brought it to Mr. Trent, saying: "See what a beautiful babethis is, with its golden, curly hair, blue eyes and red cheeks. Howfresh and healthy it looks. But now we have a weighty matter to decide. We do not know the baby's name and we must call it something. Let ustake your name. " "Very well, " said Mr. Trent, "we will adopt him and call him DanielTrent. That is a very nice name. As God saved Daniel out of the lion'sden, so He saved this child from a dreadful calamity. Let us hope thatthis boy will grow to be as sensible, with as much faith in God, and asobedient to God's will, as young Daniel was. " "Let us hope it may be so, " said his wife, as she cast admiring glancesupon the babe. The faithful dog who had accompanied her now rested for awhile, as hesaw the babe in comfort and safety. After he had been fed and hadstretched himself awhile before the fire, he suddenly arose, shookhimself well, and rushed out of the house. As soon as he reached thewater's edge, he swam across the river, ran hastily up on the oppositeshore and was soon lost to view. "Have a care, my dear, " said her husband, "I fear you will soon loseyour babe. I am sure the dog has gone in quest of the child's parentsand will return here with them. " Mrs. Trent sighed. "Oh, " said she, "I understand how pained those peoplemust be. For that reason, I would willingly restore the lost babe to itsparents. Although it would be very hard for me to part with it. " After an absence of three days, just as Mr. And Mrs. Trent were seatedat the fireside, the good, faithful dog rushed into their presence andgreeted them by barking and joyfully wagging his tail. But in a fewmoments he hung his head, dropped his tail, and looked very sad; andfrom that moment on he showed no desire to leave the house. "From the dog's manner, " said Mr. Trent, "I surmise that he was notsuccessful in finding the baby's parents, who were undoubtedly lost inthe flood. Let us take good care of him, for he has so faithfullyfulfilled his duty. We, too, have a duty to perform, for we must trainand educate this child whom we have taken into our family. " Though the child's position in life was now on a higher plane, yet histraining was no different from that which his own parents would havegiven him. His new parents worked hand in hand. Daniel soon felt achildish reverence for his foster-father, and toward his foster-motherhe showed a trusting love. He grew to be a handsome boy, displaying manysplendid talents. He was a diligent scholar and stood highest among hisclassmates. He did everything in his power to give pleasure to hisfoster-parents. He regarded them as his true parents, for no one hadtold him otherwise. It had happened that when Daniel was two years oldhis foster-parents bought a house in another section of the country andmoved into it. The new neighbors looked upon Daniel as the real son ofMr. And Mrs. Trent. CHAPTER IV THE ERRAND When Daniel Trent had reached his fourteenth year, he was able to assisthis foster-father in his business. He wrote a fine hand, did much of his"father's" clerical work, and carried out all orders with exactness. One evening he was sent out on an errand to a little village on theRhine, not far from where they now resided. Daniel was pleased at theprospect of a long walk in the cool evening air. His good dog, who wasstill living and in fairly good condition for his age, accompanied him. Just as Daniel's business had been transacted, a ship came into port. The passengers crowded the gang plank and the wharf. Several boys andyoung men pressed forward and offered to show the travellers the way andto carry their baggage. At last a little boy addressed a refined, though shabbily dressed oldman, and asked if he could direct him to a hotel. "Oh, no, " said the old man, "I will remain on shipboard over night; Icouldn't pay the price of a room in a hotel. My meal will be a sandwichthat I have in this bag; and as for a drink, a glass of fresh water willappease my thirst. " Daniel listened with sympathy to the old man, who had an honest kindlook. Timidly moving a little closer to him, he said, while his facegrew red: "If you would not feel offended, I should like to give you alittle money, out of my allowance. " "My dear young man, " said the traveller, "true it is that I have neveraccepted charity, but I must admit, you have offered it to me in such afriendly, well-meaning manner that I would gladly accept it, if I could;I thank you heartily for it. May your kind thoughtfulness be rewarded. " The dog, who in the meantime had hurried to the water's edge to quenchhis thirst, hastily returned, just as Daniel was about to continue hisway. The next minute, he was leaping and springing and barking, asloudly as he could, and showing unbounded joy. The traveller cried outin astonishment: "My dog, you are my Rover. Do I find you again, afterso many years? How did you get here?" Daniel looked surprised and said: "It seems that the dog knows you verywell. Did he ever belong to you?" "Yes, truly, " said the man, "but I thought he was drowned thirteen yearsago, when the Rhine overflowed and carried my house with it. I neverexpected to see my dog again. --But, " said he, as he dried his eyes, "Isustained at that time a greater loss than could ever be retrieved. " "What was that?" asked Daniel. Then the old man told the tale of the flood and said that, in thedarkness of the night, and in the great hurry and excitement, hisyoungest child, a babe, had been left lying in its cradle. Perhaps ithad been crushed to death by the collapsing walls of his house and beenburied in the waters of the river. Daniel was deeply moved by the sad fate of this babe. Little did hedream that he was the child whom he was pitying. He tried to comfort theold man over the loss of the infant. The old man then said, "I have learned to accept my grief, as havingbeen sent from God. In the end He will prove to each life that what issent is for the best. " Daniel agreed with him, and offered him his hand in friendship. Then hebade him good-bye, saying that the lateness of the hour was the cause ofhis haste. Daniel walked on and called his dog. The faithful Rover did not wish toforsake his long-lost and newly-found master, but neither did he wish tolose Daniel. He would hurry ahead and stand in front of Daniel, barringthe way, as if he wished to stay him, and then he would run back to theold man. Daniel at last stood still. The dog lay down between them and lookedappealingly, first at one and then at the other, as if he wished to begthem to remain together. Again Daniel started, but the dog went throughthe same antics. A half hour passed in this way. At last Daniel said: "Ireally don't know what to do. I love this dog, but I would like you tohave him, too; but I can't let you take him, for he belongs to myfather. Come with me, and let him decide who shall have the dog. " They walked together along the lamp-lighted streets, and the happy dog, with leaps and barks, gave evidence of his great joy. CHAPTER V THE OLD MAN Mr. Trent and his wife had delayed the evening meal, awaiting Daniel'sreturn. Daniel led the strange man into the dining-room, where the tablewas spread with a beautiful white cloth, relieved by polished silver andfood temptingly arranged. It was a welcome sight to the travel-weary oldman. Mr. Trent was about to reprimand his son for his belated return, but hehesitated at the sight of the stranger. Daniel related the incidents ofthe evening, and they amply served to excuse him for his tardiness. Mr. Trent then asked the old man what he knew about the dog. Mr. Swift related at length the same story that he had told Daniel; andadded that his losses were great, but that the loss of his baby boy hadgiven him the greatest pain in his life. Mr. Trent and his wife both came to the conclusion, in a flash, that thebabe which they had adopted was most assuredly this man's son. Mr. Trent, a clever, as well as a careful man, wished to probe the matter tohis entire satisfaction, so he dismissed Daniel on some errand. Then hequestioned the stranger, as to his name, his place of residence, theyear and the month and all circumstances surrounding that dreadfulnight, in minutest detail. "Tell me, " said he, "did your dog wear a collar?" "O yes, " said the old man, "it was made of red leather, and engraved ona metal plate was his name Rover, and the letters J. M. S. , which standfor my name, Joseph Martin Swift. " "Now, " said Mrs. Trent, "will you describe the cradle?" "Very well, " said the man, "it was made of pine wood. The body waspainted blue and it had a red canopy. " Mr. And Mrs. Trent looked deeply into the old man's eyes, and found inhis face, looking through the wrinkles which deep sorrow and care hadchiseled there, a remarkable resemblance to their adopted son. "I have no further doubt, " said Mr. Trent, "that the son who thirteenyears ago, as a tender babe, floated in its cradle down the Rhine, wassaved from the flood, and lives today. " "How, what?" cried the man in joyful astonishment. "Oh, where is he?Where is he? Lead me to him at once. " "You have already seen him, " said Mr. Trent. "The young man who broughtyou here is your son. " "What?" cried the old man, "that handsome young lad. Could it hepossible? Oh, how miraculous!" He folded his hands and stood in silence, till his overwrought feelings broke forth in a torrent of tears. At lasthe said: "How was he saved? How did he reach this house and these goodcircumstances?" Mr. Trent related everything in a few words: how the faithfulness of thedog had been the first means toward the rescue of the infant. "We tookyour child, adopted him and brought him up. He always behaved well andhas given us great joy. As we did not know his name, we had him renamedDaniel. We never let him know that he was not our own child. We must nowdisclose this fact to him. I hear him coming and will ask you towithdraw to the next room until you recover yourself. " "Thank you, " said the highly elated father, "I should like to be alonefor a few moments, that I may offer my thanks for this great goodness. " By this time Daniel had reached the dining-room. As he missed thestranger, but still saw the dog, he asked: "Well, my dear father, didyou satisfy the old man?" "My dear boy, come seat yourself beside me, for I have something to sayto you. We, whom you have always considered as father and mother, arenot your parents. " Daniel was greatly disturbed by this news and could scarcely speak. Atlast he said: "Oh, my dear parents, what great good you have alwaysrendered me. How deep has been your love to me. All the rest of my lifeI will thank you. But, how is it that you only now divulge this greatsecret? You do not intend to cast me out, I hope?" "Certainly not, my dear Daniel, " said Mr. Trent, "but listen further. You are the child that was rescued from the river, and the stranger whomyou brought here is your father. " "This man!" cried Daniel in astonishment; "yet he appears to me to be agood, honest man. " Then Mr. Trent continued, in order to test Daniel, and said: "That maybe! But he is so poor, while you are now so rich. You don't need him. Besides, in his poor clothes, he would not be any credit to you. So Ithought I would give him a sum of money, and send him back to hisvillage. " "Oh, no, " cried Daniel, springing from his chair. "I hope you have notalready sent him to the ship. If so, let me hurry after him. I must seemy father's face again and embrace him. I trust you did not mean whatyou said. Were my father the poorest and most unfortunate man in thewhole world, I would not be ashamed of him, for he is my father. Everything that I have, I would share with him. " Daniel's own father had heard these words, in the adjoining room. Hestepped forward, rushed upon Daniel, and cried: "My son!" and Danielcried: "My father!" They embraced each other and their tears fellfreely. CHAPTER VI THE LEGACY Mrs. Trent now invited all to partake of the evening meal. Theconversation became animated, and Mr. Trent was happy to find that hisguest was such a sensible, honest man. He then asked him how he happenedto take such a long trip. Joseph Swift said that a legacy had been bequeathed to him, and that hewas on his way to a distant city to claim it. He had stopped at thenear-by port in order to break the monotony of the journey. "Before thedisaster that befell me, " continued he, "I lived in comparative comfort, but ever since I have been struggling. I was obliged to begin all overagain and build a new house and start a new business. You can easilyunderstand that I soon fell behind in money matters. The news of thislegacy was very welcome, for every little helps. Some difficulty, however, has arisen, so I decided to go personally; and whether I shallget the money or not, remains to be seen. " "I trust you have all the necessary papers and credentials with you. " "O yes, " said Joseph, drawing out a wallet containing the papers, inorder to prove his words. Mr. Trent looked them over and found them correct, but conjectured thatthe outcome would be somewhat doubtful. Besides, when he took intoconsideration the cost of the journey, living expenses, the cost of thetrial, he found that very little would remain of the legacy after all. Mr. Trent, who was as noble as he was rich, said: "Do you know what Ithink, my dear friend? The rest of this journey would be very tiresomefor you; and besides, you would have to remain there for some timebefore you could claim the money. I will give you the sum stated, andyou can give me a power of attorney so that I can get the money. I canthen instruct my business manager in that city to look after this matterfor me. " Joseph Swift was delighted with the proposition, and took the profferedmoney with the heartiest thanks; although he did not realize to its fullextent the thoughtfulness of this act. Mrs. Trent, who was as kind-hearted as her husband, inquired after theother members of Mr. Swift's family, and then said: "Now that you havebeen spared the weariness of the rest of the journey, I beg you to spenda week with us. Then Daniel may escort you home, and remain a few dayswith you, and have the pleasure of meeting his mother and sisters andbrothers face to face. " Joseph declared that he had never met such good people, in all his lifeand Daniel was overjoyed in the anticipation of seeing his mother. "I feel I must give my mother and my sisters each a gift, " said he. "Howpleased I am that I saved my money. Now I can use it for a goodpurpose. " Early the next morning, Mrs. Trent and Daniel went forth to purchase thegifts, and many a beautiful present did they bring back. Turning to Mr. Swift, she said: "Here is a handsome gold watch which Daniel bought foryou, and also the material for a new suit of clothes. I have ordered thetailor to come and take your measurements, and he promised to deliverthe suit in a week. " Poor Mr. Swift could hardly find words to express the thanks that filledhis heart. But Mr. Trent, noticing his deep emotion, said: "Never mind, Mr. Swift, let it be so. Why would God give some people more than they need, unlesshe intended they should give some of it to those who didn't have enough?Sharing with others, brings us happiness. " CHAPTER VII THE JOURNEY Early the following week Daniel and his father started on their journey. The dog accompanied them and sat on the front seat of the carriage, nextto the driver. As Mr. Swift neared his home, the linen lying in the bleachery wasplainly discernible, and the dog, recognizing the locality, leaped outof the carriage. Mrs. Swift and her daughters were wetting the linensand the two boys were busy in the vineyard. The dog ran up to his oldmistress, sprang at her joyously, and then ran to her daughters. Theywere much surprised to see the dog that they had thought dead. The sonsjoined the group, and while they stood discussing the dog's return, theyheard the toot of the tally-ho horn. Suddenly the horses galloped up tothe door and halted. Said Mrs. Swift, "What can this mean? The driver must have made amistake. " But in an instant Mr. Swift alighted and greeted his familywarmly. Mrs. Swift's expression was very grave as she said: "What ever possessedyou to return in such a carriage; and now that I look at you, I see youare dressed in new clothes from head to foot. Even the dog, for which Isuppose you paid a good price, has a new collar. I always looked uponyou as a better business man than that, I fear now that nothing remainsof the legacy. Most likely you lost your senses when you saw so muchmoney. If you begin by spending it so lavishly it will soon be gone. " Mr. Swift laughingly replied: "Don't be so sure, my dear. Let me unpackthe things. You will see that not a penny of the legacy is missing. " Heopened the trunk which the coachman had just brought in, took out a bag, and shook the golden contents upon the table. "Oh, my, " cried his wife in glee, "so much money! I never saw that muchin all my life. It dazzles me. It seems as if I were dreaming--But, tellme, where did you get the clothing?" "O, never mind, just yet; I haven't shown you all, for I have broughtmaterial for new suits for you and all the children. " He laid out thegoods, the velvets, and the laces upon the table, which was scarcely bigenough to hold them all. "This is too much. My reason actually refuses to take it in. Do tell me, how did you get these costly things?" continued his wife. "All these things, my dear wife, have been presented to you by myfellow-passenger, " pointing his finger at Daniel, who had kept somewhataloof. [Illustration: "As I notice it now you are dressed in new clothes fromhead to foot. "] Mother and children had scarcely noticed him in their happiness, but allthe while Daniel had been enjoying their rapture. The mother looked sharply at Daniel and said: "This young man brings usall these things! Well, who is he?" Mr. Swift bent his head and folded his hands; then he spoke with devoutearnestness: "This friendly young man is your son, our child, whom wemourned as dead. A rich merchant and his good wife took him into theirhome and heart. " Daniel could no longer restrain himself. He fell on the neck of hisnew-found mother and embraced her tenderly. Then he greeted his brothersand sisters heartily. The ecstacy of moments like these is indescribable. At first, a little shyness existed between the brothers and sisters andthis long-lost brother. But as he was entirely without vanity and modestand friendly, he soon won their confidence and respect, and theyconversed with him as naturally as if they had been with him always. One morning the family mounted the hill to show Daniel the spot wherethey had spent the night of terror. "Yes, " said the father, "in the morning light, we found that our househad been swept away. In the face of all that disaster, I remembersaying: 'This dreadful calamity will yet bring us some blessing, ' and soit has happened. The people in the whole country around became moreindustrious than they had been in the time of their prosperity. Many whohad been haughty and extravagant became humble, thrifty and moderate. God awoke many people to the performance of good deeds. Many a familyquarrel was terminated; all the people became peace loving; each helpedthe other in the hour of need. "Who would have believed that we would again see our beloved child? Whowould have thought it possible that we, who once spent on this hill theworst night of our lives, would live to spend upon it the happiest day. Let us learn not to give up hope, no matter how bad the prospect mayseem, for better times will come--God will make all things right atlast. " In the course of time, when Mr. Trent knew to a certainty of Mr. Swift'shonesty, he gave him the position of treasurer in his large businessenterprises. This position was accepted, and Mr. Swift transferred hisbleachery and vineyard to the care of his eldest son. With his wife andthe other members of his family he then moved to a house adjacent to theTrents. Daniel became his foster-father's assistant, and proved himself worthyof all the care which had been bestowed upon him; and he remained agood, true, helpful son to his own and his foster-parents. [Illustration] The Damaged Picture Chapters. I. The Artist. II. The Picture. III. The Discovery. THE DAMAGED PICTURE Chapter I The Artist If one had been seeking for a man who combined all the qualities ofgoodness and greatness, one would have chosen artist Laurier. He borethe title of "Master of Arts" and his works, mostly landscapes, werefamous far and wide. He had amassed a considerable fortune, and hishouse was the handsomest building in the city, equipped with everyluxury. Besides, it was the home in which all artists, rich or poor, found welcome at all times. But conditions changed. Hard times, following quickly in the wake ofrecent wars, had made the demand for art, particularly painting, lessand less urgent, till there was no market whatever for the artist'sworks. Little by little, he had to draw upon his capital in order tosupport his family. However, he continued to paint with unabateddiligence, for he hoped with the betterment of the times to sell hispaintings; or if he should not be permitted to live so long, he wouldleave them as a heritage, for the benefit of his wife and children. Alas, the great man did not live to carry out his purpose. A contagiousdisease swept over the country, numbering him among its victims; and heintuitively felt that he would never again rise from his sick bed. One morning, following a night filled with great pain and misgivings, his dutiful wife was seated at his bedside trying to cloak the greatsorrow which she felt at his approaching death. His two little daughtersstood at the foot of his bed. The dying man looked tenderly at his wifeand children, and said: "Be comforted and weep not. True, I can bequeathyou but little; but God, the Father of the widow and orphans, will watchover you. " He then invoked God's blessing upon them, and with his lastbreath said, "In heaven we shall meet again. " His eyes closed and hepassed out of this life. Mother and daughters stood convulsed in tears. The widow now found herself in very straightened circumstances. Herhouse was so heavily mortgaged that she could no longer hold it. Thepictures which her husband had bequeathed to her were valuable as worksof art, but the widow could not realize their worth in money. Soon itbecame imperative to sell them at auction, at any price. Before the dayset for the sale, mother and daughters saw, with anguish, these workshurried off to the auction room. The house, too, fell under the hammer. The poor, miserable family left the home in which they had lived formany years in love, peace and contentment. Still, a certain pride andsatisfaction filled the widow's heart when she realized that, though herhusband had died poor, yet he owed no one a penny--that his name stoodin the community respected and revered by all the good people. The poorparticularly held him in loving memory. The widow was obliged to seek a new home in a cheap section of the city. She was an expert in all household arts, particularly in the art ofsewing. Each night found the widow busily engaged with her work, theproceeds of which kept the wolf from the door. Her two daughters, whom she had brought up with the utmost care, wereher only joy. They grew into beautiful girlhood, were modest and good, and loved their mother with all the tenderness of devoted childhood. They, too, helped with the sewing; and their combined efforts, thoughfeeble, were not without visible returns. Mother and daughters often talked about their departed father. "It givesme great pain, " said the mother, "that every picture which your fatherpainted should have been taken from us. If it were but a littlelandscape that we possessed, how happy I should be. It would enrich ourotherwise barren home and make it equal to the most beautiful salon ofthe grandest castle. " Mother and daughters rarely went anywhere, but every Sunday found themattendants at a church at the other end of the city. There, on thosesacred walls, hung a beautiful painting executed by their father. "Thisindeed is exquisite work, " said the mother, and the children fullyagreed with her sentiments. When the services were ended they all slowly wended their way throughthe city to their modest home. Sunday after Sunday, rain or shine, foundthem carrying out the same program, always returning with hearts filledwith reverence and peace. The long, weary winter nights were passed reading the books which theirfather had collected during his lifetime, and which, by the merestaccident, had not been disposed of. Thus they passed their days, quietly and contentedly, each onecheerfully doing her daily share of good deeds and good works in thisgreat vineyard of the world, where we have all been placed to do ourbest. Chapter II The Picture One day, as the mother was examining the apparel, she turned to herdaughters and said: "Children, I see that your summer frocks are reallyvery much worn and faded. As we have saved a little more than weexpected, I feel that I want to reward you for your diligence andwillingness in helping me so faithfully and uncomplainingly, by givingyou each some money, with which to buy material for a few new dresses. "She then handed each daughter a hard-earned ten dollar bill, and said:"Select what you wish, and we can make the dresses ourselves. " Both daughters were elated with this generous gift; and at once began toargue with each other as to the shade and material which would be mostdesirable, and which would also be most durable, from an economicalstandpoint. At last they started out to make the purchases. Soon theyfound themselves before a massive building, upon which was placed asign: "Auction Sale of Paintings. " Both girls, as an artist's daughters, had an inherited love for pictures. "Shall we go in?" said Lottie, the elder, to Louise--"Not to buy, ofcourse; for how could we do that? But just to look at the beautifulworks. " They stepped timidly and modestly into the great gallery where severalgentlemen and many richly gowned ladies had already assembled. Lottieand Louise remained unnoticed, standing not far from the door. The auctioneer just then raised a picture to view, and cried: "Alandscape, in a handsome gold frame, by the artist Laurier--ten dollarsfor the first bid. " "Hm, " said a portly gentleman, "this picture was certainly executed morehastily than any of his other works. It lacks a certain finish. However, I'm an ardent admirer of Laurier. I bid fifteen dollars. " The children had forgotten all about their dresses, and after a moment'swhispering and hesitation, Lottie called out with a beating heart andtrembling voice: "Seventeen dollars!" Several of the ladies and gentlemen turned to see where this gentle, timid voice had come from, and noticed the poorly clad children standingso far back that they could scarcely see the picture. When the childrenbecame conscious of the many eyes fastened upon them, they turned pale. The portly gentleman, without taking any notice of them, continued: "Igive nineteen dollars. " Then Lottie said, timidly and almost inaudibly, "Twenty dollars. " "Oh, those dear children, " said a friendly lady, "they are the artist'sdaughters; let us bid no higher, so the picture may be theirs!" Everyone was deeply affected, praised the deceased artist and father, and respected the love of his daughters. Then the auctioneer went on calling, "twenty dollars once--twice--forthe third and last time. " He then summoned Lottie, the purchaser, totake the picture. Lottie stepped forward to the long table, and laid upon it the two tendollar bills which her mother had given her. "You have made a good purchase, my child, " said the portly gentleman, "and were you not the daughter of the artist, I would not have let yououtbid me. " The assembled people wished the children luck; and taking the picture, which was not large, both sisters hurried out of the gallery. "O mother, " they cried, as they entered the neat little living room oftheir home, "we have had great good luck. The wish you have so longexpressed is at last fulfilled. See, here is a picture painted by ourbeloved father. " The mother looked at it for a long time in deep silence, and at lastbroke forth in tears of joy and homesick longing. "Yes, " said she, "the picture is his, though I cannot remember everhaving seen him work at it. But I know his art, his beautiful thoughtsand his delicate colorings. It is an exquisite landscape. Notice theevening glow over the wooded hill, behind which the sun has justdisappeared; the huts, from whose chimneys the light-blue smoke ascends;the distant village, with the old church tower which the last rays ofthe declining sun still illumine; and the rosy, hazy light which spreadsover all. It is beautiful beyond description, and stirs within mememories of the past. Such scenes have I ofttimes viewed in company withyour father. But how did you ever get this picture?" Lottie related the incidents leading up to its purchase, and said:"Louise and I are perfectly willing to wear our old clothes. " "We certainly have a treasure in the house now, in comparison with whichall the grandeur of the world counts as nothing, " said the mother. "Youare, indeed, good children, and I appreciate your self-sacrificingspirit. I consider that more acceptable than a great collection ofpaintings. The love which you have shown for your departed father andfor me affords me unbounded joy. Come now, let us hang the picture atonce. " Often all three would stand before the painting and gather from it suchjoy and strength that the work of the day seemed lightened andbrightened. "When you study with exactness the details of a beautiful landscape, "said the mother, "you will find more and more to admire at each view. Soit is with reading. We learn much that may befall us in life frombooks, and by thinking and reviewing the good and the beautiful in thelives of others we may better know how to act under the changing scenesof life. " Chapter III The Discovery With the returning spring, the mother received an urgent letter from herbest friend, a widow, who lived in the country. This friend had beenseriously ill for some time, and her life was despaired of. She wasparticularly desirous of seeing Mrs. Laurier about making a few finalarrangements. The mother made hasty preparations, and at break of day started on herjourney, her two daughters accompanying her a short distance from thehouse. The mother gave them a parting injunction to work diligently and toremain at home. "Within two or three days, I shall return, " she said. "Iknow that my friend has much to tell me, and will not hear of my goingsooner. Behave yourselves in such a manner that when I return, I may beso pleased with your conduct that my troubles will be the lighter tobear. " As the two girls returned to the house, Lottie said to her sister: "Doyou know, dear Louise, our rooms have become somewhat dingy during ourstay here. Let us, while mother is absent, have them painted. We couldlaunder the curtains and polish the floors. These bright spring daysseem to demand it. Then, when mother returns, steps into the house, andsees its whitened walls, its beautiful fresh draperies and itsbrightened aspect, what a pleasure it will give her. What do you thinkabout it?" Louise clapped her hands in joy, and said: "You always have thecleverest ideas. Yes, let us send for the painter at once. " The girls then worked industriously for two days, and everything seemedto glide along swiftly and entirely to their satisfaction. On the morning of the third day, Lottie said: "Everything is now inreadiness, and I will hasten to the market and order some things, sothat we may provide a good dinner for our mother when she returns thisevening. " "That is wise, " said Louise, as she helped Lottie put on her coat. When Lottie returned after an hour's absence, Louise rushed up to herwith red-rimmed eyes, and cried: "Oh, Lottie, I have met with a greatmisfortune. Through ignorance, I damaged the beautiful painting. Comequickly and see it. " Lottie looked at the picture, in horror. "Oh, " said Louise, "it seemed somewhat dusty to me, and I tried to washit off with soap and water. But, not until it was too late, did I noticethat the colors ran together and the beautiful painting was completelyruined. " "Completely!" said Lottie, and began to cry. But, in order to reassureher sister, she said, "Perhaps it may yet be restored by some goodartist. " As the two girls sat conferring as to the best method to pursue, themother stepped into the house. She was exceedingly delighted to find herhome in such exquisite order and newness. "You certainly are verydutiful children. But what is troubling you? What has happened that Ifind you both in tears?" "Oh, " cried Louise, "just look at the painting. I wanted to clean it. Imeant well, but met with such disappointment. Forgive me, forgive me!"and she fell at her mother's feet. The mother was greatly agitated, as she gazed at the painting. She paledand trembled. "This misfortune is indeed pitiable, " said she. "You knownot how much I would give had it not occurred. " She drew on her glassesand viewed the damaged picture scrutinizingly. "The colors, " said she, "were but water-colors, and that is why they were so easily blurred. But, it is peculiar. I see, under these water-colors, a ground work ofoil paint, and there, I see a little finger, most assuredly painted by amaster. What shall I do? I will dare, as long as the picture is damagedand past restoration, to wash it off entirely. " The mother then took a big sponge and deliberately began to wash thepainting. A hand, an arm, an angel's form appeared to view, such as onlythe greatest master could portray. Though the mother hated to destroythe work of her beloved husband, yet she worked assiduously to removeall the water-colors, and lo! a painting of extraordinary beauty andgenius met her admiring gaze. It was a historical picture of ancient times The figures stood forth inliving beauty and seemed to speak from out the canvas. "If I see rightly, " said the mother, "this is a painting by an oldmaster. On a journey, which I once took with your departed father, I sawmany paintings by this same artist. But this painting, unless I am verymuch mistaken, is classed among his best productions. It is one of thefinest in art. Nothing in this picture is without purpose and shows thestroke of a genius. "I must seek advice from Mr. Raymond--an old, true friend of your dearfather. He is a connoisseur on works of art. " So she hurriedly donnedher cape and hastened to his house. The venerable gentleman was only too glad to welcome her to his home. Hehad scarcely looked at the picture, when he cried in astonishment: "Yes, truly, this painting is by one of the earliest Italian masters. It isexquisite and sublime. And now it dawns on me how this beautiful workcame to be hidden by the brush of another artist. "During the late war, as the besiegers were drawing nearer and nearer acertain castle, the owner had his paintings and works of art concealedin the cellar. "As this picture, however, was the most valuable and the choicest of hiswonderful collection, he could not for one moment think of parting withit. So he sent for your worthy husband to paint a picture over it inwater-colors, which could be easily removed, and yet serve to concealthe picture's real value. In this way, he hoped to save it from thehands of the besiegers. "However, he did not live to see the war ended, and your dear husbandpassed away also. This twice painted picture could have remained foreverundiscovered, but it has been destined otherwise. A wonderful treasurehas been sent to save you and your children from all future want. Itonly now depends upon finding a lover of pictures, and an admirer ofgenius, who will pay the full value for this work of art. " "But, " said the good woman, "can I with a clear conscience keep in mypossession so valuable a picture, for which we paid but such a triflingsum of money?" "Of course you can, and no person can dispute your right to it. Theowner of this picture was a noble, right-living man, whom I knew well. He had no relatives and did much good to the poor. For himself he neededbut little. His only pleasure in life was buying the paintings by theold masters. Little by little, he collected quite a gallery. Thisconstituted his entire fortune. After his death, the pictures which hadbeen concealed in his home were brought forth and were sold, togetherwith this beautiful one. The late merchant, Mr. Pinole, purchased mostof them. "If you take my advice, I would suggest that you advertise in the dailypapers the fact that you have this beautiful picture for sale. Then apurchaser will surely present himself who will pay you its value. " Mrs. Laurier then asked him to undertake this responsibility, to whichhe kindly acceded. Soon the whole city was aware of Mrs. Laurier's wonderful possession, and people were filled with astonishment. Mr. Pinole's son, at whosesalesroom the picture had been sold at auction, hastened to Mrs. Laurier's house. He had, he said, not only received less than half his due, but thepicture was worth a thousand times more than she had paid for it. As shemade no attempt whatever to return the picture to him, he left herpresence in rage, and determined to sue her at once. When he presented the case to his lawyer, the latter explained that asthe picture had been sold at public auction, he could do nothing aboutit. "Besides, " said the lawyer, laughingly, "remember, your father paidstill less for it. " Disappointed and chagrined, Mr. Pinole returned to his home. Through the untiring efforts of Mr. Raymond, the picture was at lastsold to a wealthy gentleman, who paid a high price for it. The money which Mrs. Laurier realized from this sale enabled her to livewith her two daughters in comparative ease and comfort. The two girlssoon married well-to-do merchants, who succeeded in purchasing Mrs. Laurier's former house, which happened just then to be on sale. It waslarge and sufficiently commodious to admit of the two families occupyingit. The best room in the house was accorded to Mrs. Laurier. The families lived together harmoniously, and vied with each other tobrighten the declining years of the mother's peaceful life. MEMORIES AWAKENED Chapter I. The Change of Circumstances II. The Revelation MEMORIES AWAKENED Chapter I The Change of Circumstances A very wealthy and worthy merchant, named Vollmar, lived in a largecommercial city. Here he carried on a prosperous business which haddescended to him from his father. By clever management, industry andhonesty, he succeeded in enlarging it; and thereby increased his wealth. Up to the present time, Mr. Vollmar had had unusual success, butcircumstances were soon to change. One morning as the family wasbreakfasting, the postman delivered a letter containing the informationthat the ship which carried a valuable cargo belonging to Mr. Vollmarhad been lost at sea. This was a severe blow; for the greater part of his fortune was nowgone. But as luck and riches had not made him proud, so this misfortuneand loss did not make him despondent. Turning to his children, he said: "God gives and He also takes away. Hemay restore all things unto us when His wise purposes have beenfulfilled. You can see that this is true, when you review the lives ofyour grandparents and great-grandparents, whose pictures in the goldenframes grace this room so beautifully. "Your great-grandfather, Lucas Vollmar, was the richest man in the city. All that we once had and now have would not have equalled his fortune byone quarter. Owing to the 'Thirty Years' War, ' he lost all. He wasobliged to flee from the enemy. His wife did not survive the journey. Their only son, my father, was then but a tender youth, and sufferedmuch during those troublous times. "Soon this city was invaded by the enemy and plundered. Many bombs werefired into it and homes were reduced to ashes. Into this very house, which belonged to him, fell a great cannon ball which did much damagebut did not set it on fire. All the families, too, suffered the greatestmisery. Hunger and pestilence carried off many of them. "Your worthy great-grandfather sought refuge in strange lands andsuffered many hardships. He had taken as much money with him as he couldcarry, but on the way he was robbed. He earned his livelihood in variousways, and soon put his son out as an apprentice. When the lad wasfourteen years old, he was called upon to face another hardship in theloss of his father, who died in misery and poverty, although he had oncebeen the richest man in this city. "This son, my father, now alone in the world, continued as an apprenticeand made progress in his trade. At last, when the war was over and peacehad been restored, he returned to this city, poor in the world's goods, but rich in knowledge and goodness. "Through a decision of the court, this house was returned to him. Thethings that he found when he entered were empty chests and those twopictures hanging on the wall opposite. Look at them. Do you not read inthose faces kindness and true worth? Yes, my children, they were indeedgood people. "You never saw your great-grandparents, but you do remember yourgrandfather, for he often held you both on his lap. He had to work hardto build up a business, but through the help of his good wife he soonacquired wealth. "So, my children, you have now seen how from wealth one may be reducedto poverty, and how from nothing one may rise and become something. "My father showed me that no matter how rich he became, he always laidby some money for the time of need. He employed the best workers andpaid the best wages; and was a great benefactor to the poor. "His example and his teachings I have followed, or to-day we would bevery poor indeed, now that I have lost my goods at sea. We must be veryeconomical and, perhaps, in time we may retrieve our loss. " Other tradesmen, too, suffered by this shipwreck. Mr. Vollmar did whathe could to help them and, little by little, they were able to go onwith their business. But times changed, and there was little demand forMr. Vollmar's goods. Failure stared him in the face. "If I must give up my business, it will comfort me to know that when Ihave paid all my debts I shall still have a few dollars left. Myconscience will be clear when I know that no one has lost one centthrough me, and that my honor before God and man remains unspotted. " Pressed on all sides, he was almost forced to give up, but as a lastresort he made up his mind to seek aid from two friends, both very richmen. But the one said: "I am sorry that I cannot help you, for I need mymoney myself. " The other man said: "I would lend you some money, but I'mafraid I won't get it back. " This treatment at the hands of his best friends, pained him sorely, andhe returned in sadness to his home. Before entering, he seated himselfin a little bower to review the situation. The sun shone with a friendlylight; the birds sang their gladsome songs; and the flowers stood forthin all their gay coloring. "How hard it will be for me to leave this beautiful garden upon which Ihave spent so much money, and in which I have enjoyed so many happyhours. Who knows in what corner of the earth I shall be obliged to seeka new home?" He became sadder each moment, and, sinking upon his knees, he prayed forhelp. Hearing footsteps, he arose, and, looking down the footpath, hesaw an old man with snow-white hair being led by a little boy. Bothseemed very poor, but they were neatly clothed. Just then the boy said to his companion: "Here, under this tree, is anice seat. You are so tired, dear grandfather, rest here a little and becomforted; for the way is not much longer. " Then they both seatedthemselves. "It is a great undertaking for a man like me, blind and feeble, totravel such a distance, " said the old man. "'Tis true, oculists oftencure blind people, but I wonder if my blindness can be cured by thatdoctor of whom we have heard so much? Besides, we have so little money, and what will we live on while we're in the city? It must soon be fiftyyears since I worked as a mason there. I really know no one to whom wecould apply for aid; for all my friends have passed on to a better land. But I trust God will help us find some place to rest. " As Mr. Vollmar heard these words, he became greatly touched. "To beblind, " said he, "and not to see the blue sky, the trees, the flowers, the sun and the people--that must be hard indeed. This man's sorrows aregreater than mine. I have my two strong eyes; and should I lose my wholewealth, it would be as nothing compared to the loss of my sight. "These poor people--this blind man, this brave boy--know how to findcomfort in their sorrow by trusting in God. I will learn from them andtrust, too. " Just then Mrs. Vollmar entered the garden with her two children, and Mr. Vollmar beckoned them to join him. He related all that he had heard theold man say. "My dear husband, " said Mrs. Vollmar, "let us take them into our house. Though we are getting poorer each day, I am sure that what we do forthem will not hurt us; for, it is written: 'Be merciful and you shallobtain mercy. '" "True, " said Mr. Vollmar, "and you certainly have a bigger heart than Ihave. Let us not only give them food and shelter, but let us call in aneminent eye doctor and have him examine this man's eyes. " Just then the old man rose to depart with the boy, but Mrs. Vollmarhastened toward them, and said that they could remain with them for awhile. Thanking them for this exceeding kindness, the strangers entered thehouse, and soon the old man began to talk about himself. "My name is Armand Seld. At one time I was a builder and mason, andlived with my son in this city. I have been blind for the last sevenyears. " As he seemed very tired, Mrs. Vollmar urged him to rest. She prepared arepast for him and after he had partaken of it, she showed him to hisroom. On the following morning, Mr. Vollmar sent for the doctor. Afterexamining the old man's eyes, he said that they were both covered withcataracts, of such a nature that he could remove them. He also held outthe hope that he could cure them in a very short time. "But, " said he, "the old man must rest for three days before I canundertake the work. " After three days had elapsed the doctor returned and began theoperation. Then the eyes were bandaged and the old man was kept in adarkened room. At the end of a week, the doctor removed the bandage fromthe patient's eyes and slowly led him to the light. "I see! I see the light!" cried the old man. "I see your faces! Oh, Ithank God!" Then he folded his hands and silence filled the room; foreach one was in sympathy with the old man and thanked God for his mercy. "But now, " interrupted the doctor, "we must cover the eyes again, andlet them become accustomed to the light by degrees, and each day theywill grow stronger. I will return daily and watch their progress;meanwhile the patient must have nourishing food, in small quantities, and he must be kept very quiet in order to save his strength. " Then hebade them good-bye and Mr. Vollmar and his wife escorted the doctor tothe door. The children kept shouting: "He sees! he sees!" and tumult and joy ranriot. At last the bandages were removed for good, but the doctor warned thepatient not to strain his eyes nor look into the sunshine for anotherweek. CHAPTER II THE REVELATION Armand Seld was now able to go about the house. The first room that heentered, after his tedious stay in his own darkened bedroom, was thedining-room, where the family loved best to sit. The walls of this roomwere graced by the pictures of the Vollmar ancestors, together with alandscape by a famous master. The old man's attention was attracted to this painting. "What do I see?" he shouted. "This picture I once saw by candlelight, and I cannot forget it. " "Strange, " said Mr. Vollmar, "that it should have made such animpression upon you. " "May I ask, " continued the old man, "have you owned this picture long?Have you lived here some time?" Mr. Vollmar replied: "This house, as well as the picture, descended tome from my sainted grandparents. But why do you ask?" "I must inquire still further before I can answer. Tell me--did yourgrandfather die in this house, or did he flee to a distant countryduring the war?" "He died far from here, in a strange land. But it surprises me how youshould hit upon this question. " "Did your grandmother die first?" "Yes; but your questions disturb me. " The old man continued: "Was your own father present before yourgrandfather's death, and did he not disclose to him a very importantsecret?" "My grandfather died of a malignant fever which robbed him of hissenses. My father, then a boy, was sent for, but when he arrived hefound his father dead. " "One more question I must ask--and I know you will forgive me. Did yourfather receive a big fortune?" "My father, " continued Mr. Vollmar, "returned to this city and thishouse a poor man. He married a woman as poor as himself, but withindustry they at last became rich. " "Do you know, " continued the old man, "you look just like yourgrandfather? He, too, was about the same age as you are now, and I feel, as I talk to you, as if he were here. But listen to my story and perhapsit may be of value to you. "Shortly before this city was plundered I worked as a mason. One day myemployer, a very honest man, received word to call at once upon agentleman who wished him to do some work which was to be kept a secret. As my employer was sick, he sent me in his place, vouching for my honorand trustworthiness. "I entered the house and was ushered into a room where your grandfather(for I have no doubts but that it was he) was seated. He started, andwas indeed surprised that my employer should have sent as a substitutesuch a young man as I was then. After reading my recommendation, heordered the servants to light two candles and set them on the table overwhich this picture hung. He made me vow never to tell the secret whichhe would entrust to me, except in time of need, and then only to one ofhis descendants. He spoke the oath and I repeated it, word for word, looking up at this picture all the time. "Then he led me into the cellar, down another stairway made of stoneinto a lower cellar, where he opened a strongly bolted door. I gazedinto a hollow in the wall, where many chests were standing. 'These boxeshold all my valuables, which I wish to save, ' said he. 'Now, I want youto cement this door so cleverly that no one will discover itswhereabouts. ' "As all the tools were lying there in readiness, and the mortar had beenpreviously prepared, I started to work at once. It cost a little laborand much pains to do the work well and to hide the door, but Isucceeded, and received a gold piece for my labor. "The gentleman laid his finger on my lips, and said: 'Remember yourvow. ' "Soon after the enemy appeared. Your grandfather fled and so did I. Never again did I return to this city, nor did I think of the valuablessecreted in these walls. The sight of this picture, however, recalls tomy mind my vow. " With a sigh of relief, Armand Seld continued: "My dearMr. Vollmar, God moved your heart to help a poor, strange, blind man. Hehelped to open my eyes, so that I could behold this picture, and todisclose to you your buried riches. Thus has He rewarded you for yourkindness to me. " Mr. Vollmar had listened attentively to the old man's story, and said:"You need not thank me. I did only what was my duty. You may be rightabout the treasure, for we often wondered what could have become of allmy grandfather's wealth. "Being the wise man that he was, he would have known what havoc the warwould bring, and consequently would have collected his money andpossibly have hidden it somewhere. But where? Neither my father nor Icould ever get the slightest clue. What you have said of the littlestone stairway and the lower cellar describes exactly the place underthis house. I am more and more convinced, each moment, that mygrandfather hid his treasures there, but now the question is whetherthey are still there. Let us go, at once, and find out. " [Illustration: "The chests were opened. "] They went, arm in arm. As they reached the lower cellar, the old manshouted: "This is the place. I remember this little round spot that Ifilled with putty and covered with cement. " By means of a long crow-bar, an opening was at last made, and one stoneafter another fell to the floor. "Victory!" shouted the old man. "Here are the chests, untouched. I knowmy work. The treasure is still here. " Mr. Vollmar then called his son and a helper to his assistance, and thechests were soon opened. Bags upon bags of money, jewels unnumbered, silverware, hammered copper ornaments and some papers which had yellowedand had almost fallen to pieces--all these, met their astonished eyes. Taking the papers first, Mr. Vollmar read many important family records, besides an index of the contents of the chests, and the disposition tobe made of them. "Oh, what good luck this is! It has all been sent to us just when weneed it most, " said Mr. Vollmar. The family soon assembled to hear the good news and see the treasures. A feast followed and fun and great merriment filled the house. The careof the old man and his grandchild was willingly undertaken by theVollmars; and these good people lived together in peace and contentmentfor many years. THE INHERITANCE CHAPTERS. I. MR. ACTON AND HIS SON. II. THE UNINVITED GUEST. III. THE FLOWERING PLANT. IV. THE TWO FAMILIES. V. THE FEAST. [Illustration: "By this time they had reached the grave, which wasgraced by a flowering plant. "] THE INHERITANCE CHAPTER I MR. ACTON AND HIS SON Mr. Acton was a clever and highly respected merchant who owed much ofhis success in life to the system and exactness with which he carried onhis business. Then, too, he was so reliable, so honest, and sold hisgoods so cheaply, that everyone preferred to trade with him. His home, which he could have furnished luxuriously, was the model ofsimplicity. The only surviving member of his family was his son George, who was nowtwenty years of age. He was a sturdy, manly, upright youth; willing andobliging to his friends and kind-hearted to the poor. He reverenced Godand everything which should be held sacred in life. He was the joy ofhis father's heart. Partly on account of his father's business and partly to increase hisown knowledge and ability, George had journeyed to England, and Mr. Acton daily awaited his return. Late one afternoon, after a day of strenuous work, Mr. Acton satdreamily near the fireside, smoking his pipe. Mr. Richmond, hisbookkeeper, who had been one of his school-mates, and who on account ofhis loyalty and honesty was classed as his nearest and dearest friend, sat beside him. Together they were planning for a banquet which theywould give in honor of George's return. A knock at the door interrupted their conversation, and in response tothe pleasant "Come, " the servant entered and delivered a package ofletters. Mr. Acton broke the seals and hurriedly glanced over them, inturn. As he took one which seemed to please him, his face suddenlychanged color, and the hand which held the letter began to tremble. Mr. Richmond became startled, for he well knew that business losses, whichMr. Acton had often experienced and borne calmly, could not be the causeof this agitation. He touched him lightly on the shoulder and said, withdeep concern: "Do tell me what has happened. " "There, read it, " said Mr. Acton, with a deep sigh, as he handed him theletter. Then, sinking back in his arm chair and folding his hands, hestared blankly into the distance, his grief too deep for words. Mr. Richmond read the letter which a fellow merchant in a distant cityhad written, and which referred incidentally to the sinking of a ship inthe English Channel. Unknown to the merchant, this ship had been the oneon which George Acton was to have taken passage. This sad news stunned Mr. Richmond, but he tried to reassure his friend, and said: "Perhaps your son is among the saved, or possibly he may nothave embarked, owing to some business delay. " "You certainly do kindle a faint spark of hope in my heart, my dearRichmond, but I fear it will be extinguished. Let us lose no time ingetting all the information we can. " He rang, and said to the servantwho answered: "Go at once and send this telegram. " Then taking up theevening newspaper his eye glanced hurriedly over column after column, and finally he read that the ship Neptune had been sunk, and that elevenpersons had been rescued, but no names had been reported. Between hope and fear, the next day passed. He summoned all his courageand waited anxiously for an answer to his telegram. All the neighbors, in fact all the people of the town, held Mr. Actonand his son in the highest esteem, and they awaited the news of GeorgeActon's fate in dread suspense. At last the answer arrived: "George wasnumbered among the passengers on board, but not among those rescued. " Poor Mr. Acton was so overcome that his eyes held no tears. With dumbgrief he shut himself up in his room to find his comfort in God, alone. Several days later, there came to Mr. Acton's house an old sailor, whohad been on the ill-fated vessel, and who could give an accurate accountof the calamity. "We encountered a storm, " said the sailor, "such as I, an old sea-dog, have never experienced. It broke shortly before midnight, and in lessthan two hours it had driven us out of our course and seriously damagedour ship. Suddenly, we felt a great thud, which threw us off our feet, and a dreadful crash told us that the ship had foundered. The waterpoured into the vessel from all sides, and the ship was soon submerged. "The helmsman, seven sailors, two passengers and myself swam through thetempestuous sea toward the cliffs which had shattered our ship. Thebrave captain and all the other passengers went to their watery grave. "The loss of young George Acton, " continued the sailor, as he dried hiseyes, "was deeply lamented by us all. The sailors loved him very much, for he was always so helpful and friendly. I know positively that everyone of us would willingly have sacrificed his life, in order to savethat of your son. But there was no moment to wait; the ship went under, and we were obliged to sink or swim. [Illustration: The Helmsman. ] "I last saw him near the bow of the vessel, just as the storm wasthreatening to break. From that time on, I saw no more of him; but Ichanced to find this wallet, as I descended from the rigging;" and hepassed it over to Mr. Acton. "It contains several letters from you to your son, and a bank note ofvalue. That is why I wished to deliver it myself. " Mr. Acton took the wallet, and opened it with trembling fingers. Hefound the letters there which he had sent his son. "My good boy, " saidthe father, "kept all my letters so carefully, carried them with him, and as I would have wished, read them often!" The affectionate father whose grief had been dumb and dry, for the firsttime shed the tears that would give relief to his pent-up feelings. The sailor continued: "On the morning following the disaster, we foundourselves on the bare rocks, with nothing about us but the immeasurablesea. We found a stick and a piece of sail which had been cast upon therocks, and this we hoisted. We were taken up by the sailors of anothership and landed at Havre. " Mr. Acton had listened attentively to each word. Then, taking the moneyfrom the wallet, he presented it to the sailor, saying: "Take this foryour love to my son and for your honesty in returning the wallet to me. Lay the money by for your old age. " The sailor was astonished at this rich gift. He thanked Mr. Acton forhis generosity and then departed. Mr. Acton felt the loss of his son more and more each day, and soon hishealth began to fail. One Sunday morning, as he returned from church, hesuddenly became very ill. He hadn't the strength to remove his clothing, but sank into the nearest chair. Mr. Richmond, who had accompanied him, hoped that the illness would beslight, and buoyed his spirits with the thought that he would soonrecover. "My dear Richmond, " the merchant said, "my hopes in this world are over, and I must now set all my affairs in order. Come, seat yourself at thistable. There is pen, ink and paper. I wish to dictate to you my lastwishes. The notary can then sign and seal the instrument. "The great wealth with which God has blessed me would, in the naturalcourse, all fall to my relations. But, as I know them, this would not bethe best thing for them, but rather unfortunate. They shall each receivea suitable portion, with the understanding that the money be not wasted, but invested and bequeathed to their children. If the children do notwish to study and learn some trade, they shall not get a penny of mine. "For you, my dear Richmond, and for all my faithful assistants whohelped me amass my fortune, I shall provide generously. The worthy poorand the afflicted, I shall not forget. Come now, write quickly; I fearthe time is short. " Mr. Acton began to dictate, but suddenly he stopped and cried: "I hearmy summons. I must go. God, who has not permitted me to finish thisdeed, will in His wisdom fulfill it, and let it reach my heirs to theirbest advantage!" He paused, prayed silently and passed away. All the members of the household were grieved at their loss. Mr. Richmond spoke gently to them and said: "Our good, helpful, pious friendsleeps in peace. Richly did he sow good deeds while here on earth, andnow he has gone to the land beyond where richly he will reap. " CHAPTER II THE UNINVITED GUEST The death of Mr. Acton cast a gloom over all the people, with theexception of his relatives, who felt such unbounded joy over theunexpected inheritance, that it gave them much trouble to mask theirtrue feelings. "The inheritance is enormous!" was all they could say and think. Whenthe time came to make the division, and it was found upon investigationthat the value of the estate to be divided was only about a million, theheirs were heard to grumble at the amount. They reprimanded the worthybookkeeper, Mr. Richmond, and all the other able assistants, as if theyhad embezzled some of the money. These good, faithful men, instead ofreceiving what Mr. Acton had fully intended they should, were obliged toaccept reproaches and immediate dismissal. Soon the heirs began to quarrel among themselves, and for a time itseemed as if they would have to settle their affairs in the court. However, their eagerness to possess the money soon brought them intoaccord, and each one accepted his portion. Then, one began to build; another bought a country estate; another gaveup his business, and rode about in his carriage. Not one of them everthought of Mr. Acton, much less of erecting a monument on his grave. Mr. Acton's house, besides a large share of his money, fell to the lotof a man named Mr. Bond. He immediately had the house renovated andfurnished magnificently, and when it was completed to his satisfaction, he invited all his relatives to celebrate the event. On the appointednight, hundreds of lights illumined the house and gleamed in thecrystal, like so many colors of the rainbow. They were reflected fromthe mirrors and shone upon the highly polished silver. All the heirs of the departed Mr. Acton had responded to the invitation, and were dressed to honor the occasion. Especially happy were the wivesand daughters, whose elaborate gowns were works of art. Mr. Bond'sdaughter resembled a princess in the elegance of her attire, andstrutted about, in order to display her beautiful diamonds. After supper had been served, the guests retired to the grand salon. Theentrancing tones of the music soon led couple after couple to dance toits rhythm, and the revelry ran high. It struck twelve by the big church clock. Suddenly there flashed overthe faces of the assembled guests, consternation and horror. The musicstopped--the dancers seemed rooted to the floor. A sudden stillness, broken only by the echoing tones of the clock, or here and there a gaspof fear or an exclamation of surprise, hovered over all. In one instantthe doors had been thrown open, and there on the threshold, clad inblack, and with a countenance pale as death, stood George Acton. If he had really returned from the grave, the fear and shock that hisappearance caused could not have been greater. All present felt a shudder pass over them, as they realized thecertainty of his return. However courteous it would have been for themto have hidden their displeasure and to have extended their greetings tohim, not one came forward. The loss of their fortune was too distastefulto them; the awakening from a happy dream, from a life of joyousforgetfulness of right and duty, to a life of hard work was toorevolting for them. Mr. Bond had been obliged to seat himself to recoverhis strength. Some swooned and had to be carried out. The noble George Acton had not for one moment thought that his entrancewould have caused his relations such a shock. So he withdrew to anotherroom. Then the questions were heard: "Do we sleep or dream? Was itreally he, or was it an apparition?" The heirs could not understand how George Acton, who was considered asdead by everyone, even by the courts, could have the audacity to live, and by his unexpected return to give them such a blow; but it came aboutin a very natural way. George Acton had, on the night of the shipwreck, swung himself from thefast sinking vessel to a plank. Wind and waves soon carried him manymiles. Then the storm had subsided and a gentle wind had arisen. Hefound himself very much exhausted, for it had taken all his strength tocling to the plank. After a while he managed to seat himself upon the board. At dawn, all hecould see on every side was water and sky. Completely drenched, andfaint from hunger and cold, he passed the day. As the sun was beginning to sink, he felt that there was nothing for himbut death. He raised his eyes to heaven and prayed silently. Suddenly, in the distance he saw the smoke-stacks of a ship, lighted by the raysof the declining sun. The ship came nearer and nearer. At last, he wasspied by the captain and saved. His thanks to God and man for his rescuewere as hearty as his prayers had been fervent. When George had beenwarmed and nourished, he begged the captain to land him at the nearestport. The captain expressed his willingness to do all that lay in his power;but, said he, "This is an English warship. I dare not deviate one hair'sbreadth from my appointed course. You will be obliged, unless we meetanother vessel, to continue with us on the journey to St. Helena. " The ship reached its destination, and after a weary wait of severalmonths, George was advised to take passage on board a coaling steamer, then in port, and bound for Lisbon. "From there you can easily get toLondon, " said the captain. George accepted this good advice, but found himself in a very greatdilemma. He, the son of a rich merchant, was, what he had never thoughtpossible, without one penny. As he sat lost in thought, the captainaroused him and said: "What is it that troubles you?" George looked up at him abashed, and said: "How can I make this tripwhen I am entirely penniless?" "Is that all?" said the captain. "Well, I have provided for that. "Whereupon he counted out to the astonished George a good round sum ofmoney. "Now all I want is a receipt. " "What?" cried George. "You intend to trust me, a person of whom you knowso little, with this large amount of money! You know nothing of mycircumstances, but what I have told you. " "I know your sentiments, your thoughts, " said the captain, "and that issufficient. I would willingly give you more, if I had it to give. Butthe amount will be sufficient to carry you to your destination. Were Inot able to trust a boy like you, I should not want to deal with anyone. Now perhaps you would not mind doing a little favor for me. When youarrive in London, please deliver this money to my old mother, who needsmy help. " George promised faithfully to carry out the captain's wish. On the morning of departure, George bade the captain and his crewfarewell, and after a devious journey, he at last arrived in London. Hehurried to the home of his father's friend, at whose house he had sorecently sojourned. The merchant was speechless with astonishment when he recognized George, whom he had reckoned among the dead. But greater still was George'sgrief and despair when he learned that his kind, loving father hadpassed away. Without further delay, he transacted the business which the captain haddeputed to him, bought some clothing for himself, and sailed with thenext steamer to Havre. From there he took the train to his native town, arriving late at night. With a heavy heart, he walked through the streets to his father's house. He expected to find it quiet and gloomy, but the brightly illuminatedwindows were a painful sight. The joyous laughter and the music allwounded his saddened heart. He could not resist the temptation topresent himself, unannounced, and end this wild revelry, this dreadfuldisrespect for the dead. So, it happened that he appeared on thethreshold of the grand ball-room--an uninvited guest. CHAPTER III THE FLOWERING PLANT On the following morning, George wended his way to the cemetery to visithis father's grave. After wandering about for some time, he thought:"How strange it is that I can not find it. " At last he met a workerthere, to whom he said: "Friend, would you be so kind, as to direct meto the tomb-stone that marks the grave of the late Mr. Acton. " The old grave-digger thrust his spade into the newly, upturned sod, andsaid to George, whom he did not recognize, "Yes, I can show you thegrave, but the tomb-stone is still missing. His heirs have set up nostone, and probably will never erect one. They have forgotten the good, noble old soul. " By this time, they had reached the grave, which was graced by abeautiful hydrangea, handsomer than any plant of its kind that Georgehad ever seen. A mass of beautiful flowers crowded forward between thedark-green leaves and thousands of dew-drops hung on the plant andsparkled in the morning sun. George stood there silent, with his hands clasped tightly before him, and his head bowed in grief, while the tears fell on the grave. Thebeauty of the plant was a little comfort to him. After he had spent some moments thinking of his departed father, heturned to the grave-digger, and said: "Who planted this beautiful bush?" "Oh, that good child, Lucy, the oldest daughter of Mr. Richmond who wasthe book-keeper for the late Mr. Acton, she planted it. She was verymuch concerned because it seemed as if the good man were never to have atomb-stone. "'Oh, that we were rich' said she, 'then he certainly should have thefinest monument here in the church-yard. However, I will do what I can. I will plant this bush and, though it be not costly like a monument, yetit represents no less in good intentions. ' "She bought the bush last April and brought it here; and with the spadeI loaned her, she dug the earth with her tender hands and set it here. You see it is a long distance from yonder stream and yet, she broughtthe water that distance, to wet this plant whenever she visited thegrave. She really felt grateful to Mr. Acton for his kindness to herfather. All her people, too, loved him. " While George listened with interest to the grave-digger's recital, ayoung man from the village happened along. He joined the group andadmired the bush. After a pause, he added; "I, too, remember Mr. Acton, everyone speaks of his goodness. It would have been better for the old, honest Mr. Richmond and his children had Mr. Acton lived a littlelonger, for then, they would have suffered no want. Nor would Mr. Richmond have been thrust out of business so shamelessly. "As one misfortune seldom comes alone, " continued the stranger, "so ithappened that Mr. Richmond had put all his savings into Mr. Acton'sbusiness, where he thought it would be well invested. The heirs accusedhim of falsifying the accounts and brought him to court. But the casewas deferred, and put on the calender for some distant date. In themeantime Mr. Richmond lost his all. "His daughter's needle is now his only support, as Mr. Richmond'sfailing sight keeps him unemployed. The other members of the family aretoo young to earn anything. " George had been deeply touched by these revelations. He picked a flowerfrom the bush, and put it into his button-hole. Then he slipped a goldencoin into the old man's hand, asked for the street and number of thehumble house where the Richmonds now resided, and turned his steps inthat direction. CHAPTER IV THE TWO FAMILIES The report that George Acton had returned was the talk of the town andhad reached the ears of the Richmond family in their out-of-the-wayhome. Mr. Richmond had gone forth in search of more facts on thesubject. He returned highly elated, with the good news confirmed, andstood in the midst of his family relating it to them. Lucy stoppedsewing and her hands dropped in her lap, for the news was such awonderful surprise to her. Mr. Richmond closed his remarks by sayingthat he regretted his inability to find George Acton anywhere, andnobody seemed to know what had become of him. To search for him in thecemetery had not occurred to anyone. Just then a knock at the door announced a visitor. The door was opened, and George stepped into their midst. Everyone was dumbfounded. The oldMr. Richmond ran forward and pressed him to his breast. Lucy and herbrothers kissed his hands and wet them with their tears. "Oh, that yourfather were with us, " was all Mr. Richmond could say. George then seated himself and learned the history of his father's lastdays. Mr. Richmond told everything as he remembered, and every eye wasmoist. He told, too, how rough, mean and cruel the heirs had been, particularly Mr. Bond. Hours passed like seconds to George, who listened breathlessly. Heassured them of his good will and promised them soon to return andbetter their condition. He then left to make a few visits and to attendto some important business. In the meantime, the affairs in Mr. Bond's household were not veryagreeable. Following the unfortunate feast and revelry, Mr. Bond and hiswife and daughter had passed the remainder of the night planning whatthey would do next. "Nothing worse could have befallen me, " said Mr. Bond, "than the returnof this boy. I would rather that this house had tumbled in on us, andkilled us all as we stood there. When I return my inheritance to GeorgeActon, I become a beggar. What we have wasted, is twice as much as weever had, and nothing will be left for us. " "Oh, " said his wife, "then we must sell our jewels and our carriages, and I must again walk to the theatres, like other ordinary people. Ishall never survive it!" "You will, most likely, never get to a place of amusement, " said Mr. Bond. "What we have spent in one night for pleasure alone, will have tosupport us for almost a year. " His daughter, who had been admiring her diamonds, then said: "Must Ireturn my diamonds, too?" "Yes, " said her father, "jewels, gold, silver, house, garden, money mustbe returned and all luxury is at an end. " Suddenly the Bonds resolved upon a plan to flatter George Acton, beg hispardon for their seeming disrespect, and invite him to a celebration inhonor of his return. As they were still devising how best to carry outthe plot, George Acton entered. They jumped to their feet, hastened togreet him and assure him that his return gave them the greatest joy andhappiness, and informed him of the feast with which they proposed tohonor him. George hesitated a moment. Then, as if it had suggested some new idea tohim, he agreed, with the understanding that he would be the host on thatoccasion, and that he would reserve the rights to invite a few of hisold friends. He also requested that the feast be postponed for twoweeks, as he wished to pass that time quietly, out of respect to hisfather. CHAPTER V THE FEAST The day that was to be crowned by a night of joy at last arrived. Latethat afternoon, George Acton called upon his friends, the Richmonds andinvited them for a walk. Lucy begged for a few moments in which tochange her dress, but George dissuaded her, saying that her simple frockof beautiful white linen could not be improved upon. After strolling leisurely for some time, they came to the cemetery. "Letus go in, " said George, "and visit my father's grave. " Lucy felt awkward, for she feared that he would consider the planting ofthe bush as audacious on her part, but she said nothing. He steppedtoward the grave and held his hat in his hand. All were silent. Only thebreeze sighed through the trees, and scattered here and there a leaf orflower upon the grave. Every eye was wet with tears. "Lucy, " said George, turning toward her, "the first bit of comfort thatcame to my heart after I learned of my father's death, was the sight ofthis bush, planted here by your hands. I always respected your high andworthy thoughts and I have learned now to respect them even more. Weremy dear father living, I would lead you to him, and say that next to himI cared most for you, and ask him to give us his benediction. But, now Ilead you to his grave, which to you as well as to me, is holy ground, and here I ask you to give me your hand, that I may care for you andprotect you while I live; and I will ask your parents for theirblessing. " Mr. Richmond, quickly recovering himself from his surprise, said: "Myboy, remember that you have millions and that my daughter is penniless. " "Your daughter's kind heart is worth more than millions. " He then brokea flower, and placing it in Lucy's hair, said: "This flower with whichLucy decorated my father's grave, represents her dower. My dear Mr. Richmond, add your blessings. " Recognizing George's earnestness, then Mr. Richmond said: "God blessyou, my children, and may He keep you as happy, as He has made us allthis day. " Silent and engrossed in deep thought, they approached George Acton'shouse. "Here, " said he, "I am expected. It grieves me that I must spendthis night in the company of relatives who have dealt so cruelly withyou, my good people, whom I love so dearly. But I must remain, for Ihave given my word; and you must all accompany me. " With Lucy at his side, followed by the Richmond family, George Actonstepped into the brilliantly illuminated room, which was gorgeouslydecked with flowers. They were greeted by soft strains of sweet music. The Bonds were all prepared with flattering speeches, but the sight ofthe Richmond family surprised them as greatly as George Acton's returnhad done, and words failed them. "They have complained to him, " whispered Mr. Bond, "and so he hasdragged them here in their shabby clothes. Such impertinence on theirpart. " George stepped forward into the ball-room and beckoned to the musiciansto stop. The guests had risen by this time, and stood about him in acircle. Mr. Bond then addressed George saying: "I know why you come with thesegood people. Probably, it is on account of the law-suit which I havebrought. It gives me great pain to think that any difference orill-feeling exists between Mr. Richmond and myself, but I shall certainlycall off the law-suit and I will pay him the money which belongs to him, this very night. " Turning to his servant, he said: "Summon mybook-keeper, at once. " "Don't bother any further about it, " said George, "for it is no longer amatter which concerns you, but me. I will see to it that Mr. Richmond'srights are restored to him. It was not for that purpose that I broughthim here. I have an entirely different object in view. Where do youthink we have been? We come, just as we are, from the grave of mybeloved father. " Mr. Bond felt embarrassed and said: "Oh, I feel very much disturbed thatthe idea of giving your father a tomb-stone has never been carried out, but the stone-cutter disappointed me so often. " Then his daughter took up the thread of the conversation and said: "Yes, we regret so much that this delay has arisen, for only two days ago Ivisited your father's grave, and thought how beautiful a monument wouldlook there, if it were chiseled from Carrara marble. " "If you were there but two days ago, " said George, "then you must havenoticed that it has a tombstone, though not of marble. How did it pleaseyou?" She paled and began to stammer: "I was--I don't know--it must have--" Then followed a painful silence which was broken by George saying: "Itis evident that you never visited the grave. However, that monument hasstood there several months. "It pains me deeply, Mr. Bond, that you did not consider my father, whoso generously enriched you, worthy of a slight token of your thanks. Letme tell you that this night my relationship to you changes. " Turning to the other members of the party, George said: "I notice inthis gathering many true friends of my father who loved me and esteemedme as a boy. I feel gratified that you have come to celebrate my return. But I must tell you that this celebration has a double purpose; for thisis the night on which I present to you my future wife--Lucy Richmond. She it was who planted the flowering bush on the grave of my father, never dreaming that it would be recognized by any one. But I think moreof that flower, than of all the riches of the world. " His friends came forward and with hearty cheers cried: "Long live GeorgeActon and his bride. " "Now, " said he, "as this house and all the fortune of which Mr. Bondstill holds the greatest share, falls again to me, I take upon myselfthe rights of host, and heartily invite all those who are my friends, tospend the rest of the night in celebration of this threefold event: Myreturn, the restoration of my fortune and Lucy to share it. " One by one, the Bond family quietly slipped out of the room. Later in the evening, during the feast, Mr. Richmond offered a toast tothe health and happiness of George and his daughter, and ended bysaying: "Noble purposes and noble thoughts are the only foundation forhappiness; and yield at all times buds and blossoms unnumbered. " HOW IT HAPPENED CHAPTERS. I. THE WOODED ISLAND II. FAR FROM HOME. III. THE SMOKE. [Illustration: "As soon as David saw that the boat was firm on the rockshe hurried out. "] HOW IT HAPPENED CHAPTER I THE WOODED ISLAND In a quaint little cottage not far from the sea-coast, David Duval firstsaw the light of day. His father, a very industrious man, supported hisfamily by making willow baskets, and his children, as they grew able, helped him considerably. David, the oldest child, was the father'sfavorite, for he showed great skill in his work, was quick and obligingand rendered his father considerable assistance. Although David gavepromise of being a great man some day, yet he had a very grave fault, and this was his headstrong will. He always wanted to have his own wayin everything, would never yield to another's rights, and his parentsfound great difficulty in teaching him to obey orders. His sisters, too, suffered much from his bad temper and from his overbearing manner. His rich uncle, Philip, gave him many invitations to dine with him. David enjoyed nothing better than to have the feasts which his uncleprovided, but they made him dissatisfied with the simple fare of his ownmodest little home. He grumbled all the while he was eating in his ownhouse, and did not think it worth while to thank God or his parents forhis food. When he was reminded of his faults, he would promise to do better, butin a little while he would fall back to his old ways. This saddened hisparents and they thought that the fond hopes which they held for hisfuture would all be blasted. His uncle would often say to him: "David, David, take care! God will yetsend you to a special school, the 'School of Experience, ' where He willdiscipline you, in order to make something good of you. " From the hill upon which David's house stood, one could see a vastexpanse of water. A little island which lay not far from the coast lentbeauty to the scene by its wealth of verdure. No one lived upon it andDavid's father visited it, from time to time, in order to gather willowbranches for his basket weaving. David, who was now strong enough to help his father row and also to cutdown the branches, often accompanied him. One night his father said tohim: "If the sky and the sea stay propitious, we will both row over tothe island in the morning. " David leaped for joy, and the prospect ofthe trip would hardly let him sleep. At dawn on the following day, as the sky began to glow and the morningstar grew paler and paler, David stood ready. He helped his mother carryfood and wraps into the little boat. It had once happened that theweather had suddenly changed, and David and his father had been obligedto remain on the island for three days, suffering much for the want offood and covering; therefore, mother took the precaution to give them apot, a pan and some matches, so that they could start a fire and cooksomething, if necessary. As everything was now in readiness for the trip, David took his strawhat, while his sister playfully pinned a feather in the ribbon. "Oh, " said his father; "get a couple of baskets, David; we'll needthem. " "What for?" asked David. "You'll find that out soon enough, " said his father, laughingly. "Don'tyou trust that I well know to what use I will put them? You do the sameto me, as many people do to their Father in heaven. They always want toknow why this or that was ordered. Do what I tell you, and in the end itwill come out all right. " David then hurried and brought back thebaskets. They both seated themselves in the boat, and pushed from the shore. Mother and daughter called after them: "A pleasant trip and a happyreturn. " David vied with his father in rowing, and it made him so warmthat he took off his coat. Soon they reached the island and made a landing, while David tied theboat to a tree stump. They hurried toward the willow trees, cut thebranches, tied them together in bundles and carried them to the littleboat. The father was delighted with David's helpfulness, and said: "Thatis right; children should help their parents as much as their strengthwill permit. " When they had gathered as many branches as were needed, the father said:"Now, let us rest a while and eat some lunch. After labor, rest issweet, and one's food tastes so much better. " When the meal was ended, the father said: "Now I want to give you another pleasure. Get thebaskets and follow me. " Soon they came to a beautiful walnut tree, whosebranches, spreading far out on all sides, were laden with nuts. Davidwas overjoyed at this sight, as he had never seen the tree before. He atonce filled his pockets with nuts and tried to crack one with his teethand get at the kernel. "Father, " said he, "why did God put the sweet nutbetween two shells, a bitter and a hard one?" "My dear boy, " said his father, "God had the wisest purpose for doingthis. He wanted to protect the sweet kernel, out of which such abeautiful tree could grow and save it from the gnawing animals. Thisteaches us how to take the bitter and hard trials of this life. As we donot despise or throw away this sweet nut, because it has a bitter and ahard shell, so we must not resent the sorrows and disagreeablesituations that come to us. The first experience we feel is that sorrowsare bitter and hard, but we must trust that the good and sweet kernelwhich they have hidden within them will come to light at last, and willbe not only of use, but also a blessing to us. " The father then climbed the tree and began to shake it. David gatheredthe nuts which rained down and put them into the baskets, which hecarried to the boat, where he emptied them, returning many times formore. "How your mother will rejoice when she sees these nuts, " said thefather, "and what shouts of joy we'll hear from your sisters when Idivide them. The thought of it pleases me now, for certainly there is nojoy greater than that of giving pleasure to others. " While David and his father were busy with their work, there crept overthe heavens heavy black clouds. Then there arose a dreadful wind storm, just as David stood in the boat emptying his last basket of nuts. Thewind bent the trees and raised the waters into high waves. All at once, a blast came, tore the boat from its moorings and took it far out tosea. David cried loudly, in horror. His frightened father hurried to theshore and saw the boy in the boat, in the far distance. The wavesincreased in size and soon the little boat could be seen, first on thecrest and then hidden in the trough. It was carried rapidly along. The father saw his boy wringing his hands, but of his cries he couldhear nothing, for the sound of the roaring waters and rushing winddrowned them. The entire sky was now enveloped in black clouds and dark night hoveredover the sea. Flashes of lightning illuminated the heavens and dreadfulcrashes of thunder filled the air. Seeing no more of his son or of theboat, the father sank disheartened under the willow tree and spent thenight alone with his grief. Meanwhile, his wife and other children were distracted with fear. As thelightning broke forth, followed by thunderous crashes, and the islandwas shrouded in rain, they prayed for the absent ones. When the stormabated, they gazed long and patiently, in the hopes of getting a signalof the returning boat. They saw and heard nothing. The mother spent thenight in sleepless anxiety. As the morning broke forth in beautiful sunshine, and still no sign ofthe little boat could be seen, the mother's fears grew greater andgreater. She ran crying to Philip, and told him her troubles. He knithis brow and shook his head. "It is strange that they have not come backyet. I'll just row over and see what has happened to them. " He steppedinto his boat lying close at anchor, and, with his assistant, rowed overto the little island. Mother and children stood watching them in anxietyand dread. At last, they saw the little boat, in the distance, returning with itsload. "Oh thanks, " cried the mother. "Philip has other passengers in theboat, besides his assistant. Now, it is all right. " She hurried down tothe shore, but as the boat neared them she cried in fright: "Where is myDavid?" The father, deathly pale, looked at her in silence. His deepgrief had made him dumb. Uncle Philip then spoke to her: "May Godcomfort you, for our David has been drowned in the sea. Poor David hadhis faults, but he was a good-hearted boy. " The mother could find no comfort and the children cried. CHAPTER II FAR FROM HOME While David was being wept over as dead, he still lived. He had had adreadful shock, riding on the tumultuous waves, far, far out to sea. Hisboat, over which the waves had dashed in fury, threatened each moment tosink. At last, after hours and hours of torture, the wind drove his boatupon the coast of a rocky island. As soon as David was sure that the boat was firm on the rocks, hehurried out, waded through the foaming, shallow water to the land andclimbed up the rocks, while his clothes dripped with rain and sea water. After he had recovered a little from his shock and fear, he gazed out athis little boat and wondered how it had been so well guided into theclefts of the rocks. A good sailor could have made no better landing. "Who steered this rudderless boat so safely into this haven? God's greatgoodness and mercy has certainly led me to this safety, and all my lifeI shall be grateful. " The storm had now been broken and the rain ceased. David thought hecould see the green island, with its trees but it seemed no bigger thana bush, that he could easily have covered with his straw hat. The land, still farther away, seemed to touch the horizon, and it looked like alittle cloud. "Oh, " cried David, "how dreadfully far I am from human help. Thisisland, on which I have been cast, cannot be seen by my people; I neversaw it when I looked out to sea. They will never think that I am hereand they will mourn me as dead. The men will go and get my father, butno one will come for me. I have often heard them say, 'for fifty milesout, there is no sign of land. '" The waters, little by little, grew calmer, so David hurried down to hisboat; but, as he was about to step into it, he noticed that it hadsprung a leak. "Oh, " cried he, "my little boat is useless now, and I ama prisoner on this rocky island. I must stay here till I die and neveragain shall I see my people. " His face grew white with fear and thetears rolled down his cheeks. As David saw starvation staring him in the face, he collected the nutsthat were in the boat, put them into the baskets and carried them tosafety, where he also placed the few utensils that had not been washedoverboard. Then he pulled his little boat as far up on the rocks as hecould get it. The fear through which he had passed had now exhausted him. He feltalmost afraid to sleep, out in the open, all alone, but he prayed hisevening prayer as he had been accustomed to, lay down beside his nutsand his few kitchen utensils, and soon was fast asleep. After a restlessnight, filled with many strange dreams of home, he was awakened by thenoise of sea birds, fluttering overhead. As he gazed before him and sawnothing but the boundless sea, he uttered a loud cry. A bevy of birds flew toward the land. "Oh, dear birds, I wish you couldcarry a message to my people and tell them that I am here. My goodfather and uncle would risk their lives to get me. " After he had breakfasted on a few nuts and a little piece of bread, hedecided to examine the island. "Perhaps I shall find some fruit treesthat will afford me nourishment till God delivers me from thiscaptivity; and maybe I shall find some people living here who will takeme to my home. " He wrapped a few pieces of bread and nuts in his handkerchief, tied thebundle to the end of a stick, slung it over his shoulder and startedforth. It was a dangerous, weary journey that gave no signs of humanlife. Nor did he see any of the narrow paths usually made by animals. Numberless trees were there, but none that bore fruit. "If I have to stay long on this island, I'll die of starvation, " saidhe, as the perspiration rolled down his cheeks. "But before hunger killsme, I know I'll die from thirst. " As he continued his way, he heard amurmuring sound, like that of water. He hurried in the direction of thesound, and found a little spring, cold and clear as crystal. He seatedhimself beside it to cool off, and then drank to his heart's content. Hehad never before noticed what a blessing from God water really is; butnow he appreciated the drink and offered his thanks for it. He proceeded on his way, and at last reached the highest point of theisland. It filled him with dread, as he saw the entire island coveredwith trees, and lying there, at his very feet and on every side--theimmeasureable sea. Now he realized that he was all alone and far fromhelp. "I will come to this point every day and watch. Perhaps a passingsteamer will pick me up and take me home. " The sun began to sink and colored the heavens with gold-rimmed rays ofpurple and red. As David stood gazing at the beauties of the sky whichhe had never before noticed, he prayed to the Creator to send him helpand guide some ship to this lonely island. Then he descended the rocksand retraced his steps. Soon he lay down under a clump of trees and fellfast asleep. When he awoke, he ate a few nuts and some bread. Each day he wandered to the rocky summit and watched for a ship. But allin vain, for on the great, wide sea no ship was to be seen. He saw thenecessity of eating sparingly, or his food would not last; so he tookhis little knife and made cuts across his bread, showing how much hecould eat daily, and only when he was very hungry. The little piece ofbread had become very hard and he had to soften it in the water from thespring. "Oh, " cried he, "how many good things I had at my father's table, that Igrumbled about and for which I never thanked God. " As he sat thinkingabout himself and all his ingratitude, he saw the fishes swimming in thewater. "I'd catch some fish, " said David, "if I only had a line. "Picking up his straw hat, he ripped out the thread, and taking the pinwith which his sister had fastened the feather, he made a hook out of itand tied the thread to it. He searched for some worms, and soon, hebegan to angle. He tried again and again, but not a nibble could he get. At last luck favored him, and soon he had three fishes. Remembering thematches which his mother had put into the tin-covered pail, he decidedto start a fire and cook his fish, adding a little salty water forseasoning. He relished this little repast more than the finest feastserved at his rich uncle's house. One morning, as he again ascended the rocky summit, he saw a large shipthat seemed no more than a mile away. Its sails were all unfurled andgilded with the rays of the bright sun. Hope filled his breast and hetrembled with fear. He watched it, as it came nearer and nearer. Suddenly, he seized a stick, and tying his red handkerchief to it, movedit to and fro like a signal of danger and distress. But before the shiphad come close enough to see the sign, it changed its direction andsailed away into the far distance. David followed its course, till itwas lost to view, and then he sank upon the ground disheartened andcried bitterly. The hours of the day that were not used in fishing, cooking, orchopping, he spent gathering shells, in which he often found pearls. Asno person had ever been there to gather them, he found them inquantities. Then, too, he found many beautiful corals in themoss-covered rocks. "If God permits me to return to my people, " said he, "I will bring them these pearls and corals, as presents. " He spent his time as best he could and often sighed for companionship. For hours he would gaze at the friendly moon, at which he had neverbefore gazed more than a second. And the twinkling stars, too, seemed tohave a new meaning for him. "The heavens truly show God's wonderfulwork, " said David. Even the delicate green moss that he had neverdeigned to notice now had its value, since it afforded him a soft bed. "I see God's finger in everything about me, " said he. "How welleverything has been ordered. " Good thoughts were now awaking in his mindand they were, like wings, carrying his heart to heaven. "Loneliness must be sent for a good reason, " thought he. "Perhaps Godsent me to this dreary, lonely place to make me see and feel what Inever understood before. " David realized now that he had never beengrateful to his parents for their care. Nor as obedient to their wishesas he should have been. "Oh, if I ever get back to my home, I will be grateful and obedient tomy parents. " He remembered, too, how disagreeable he had often been tohis sisters, and said: "Oh, how sorry I am. If God lets me return I willask their forgiveness and be a good brother to them. I never appreciatedmy home, my parents, nor my sisters. God forgive me and let me return, and I will try to repay them in kindness and love for all mynegligence. " An intense longing for his people filled David's heart; and it grewstronger every minute. Each day he watched for ships and often sightedone, but they never neared the island. At last he came to the conclusionthat the coast was rocky and dangerous, and so no ship would ever comenear it. With this sad thought, he was retracing his steps one day, carrying somewood to his little retreat. But what a terror seized him. He saw in thedirection of his little retreat thick, black, clouds of smoke ascendingto the heavens, and two red flaming brands of fire, like two churchspires. David had often heard of islands that were volcanic and sentforth fire, and now he thought that this was one. He threw his wood tothe ground and with palpitating heart drew closer and closer: but all hecould see was smoke and flames. The crackling of the fire filled himwith more fear. At last he saw that it was not from the earth that thefire issued. He realized that the wind had blown the flames of hislittle fire, which he always kept lighted, against some bushes and hadset them on fire. Almost everything he owned was being destroyed and twoimmense trees were being consumed. When he considered, above all, the loss of his little fishing line thatmeant so much to him, he cried aloud: "Oh, what a misfortune this is!Now, I'll die of hunger. I often heard my father say that frommisfortune, fortune sometimes grows, but, when I look at this damage, itdoesn't seem possible that any luck could come from it. "Oh, how good it is to live with people. How easily one can help theinjury to another. Oh, if ever I have the luck to get back to my family, how willingly will I help them in times of need. But who will help me, apoor, lost boy, on this lonely island? I am like a poor bird driven fromher nest. " A mighty painful longing for his father's house again seizedhim. "If only a ship would come and take me back, " he said. CHAPTER III THE SMOKE His people too, were mourning through these weary, weary weeks. One daythe father said to the mother: "I need some willow branches and althoughit is very painful for me to go to that island, still, there is no otherplace where I can get them. " "Then you must not go alone, " said the mother. "Take the children withyou. They will be a help and a comfort to you. " Soon they were all readyand rowed over to the island. After landing, they sat under a tree for awhile. "This poplar tree, " said the father, "is the very one under which Davidand I sat the last day we were here. And over in that direction, "pointing toward the island, "he was carried in his little boat. " Tearsstood in the father's eyes; the boy, Andreas, turned his head to wipe atear; while the girls cried. "Let us go now and gather nuts, " said the father, to cheer them again. They soon filled their baskets and were about to return to the boat, when the boy said: "Dear father, let us go to the top of the hill andget a view. I've never been up there. " "Oh, yes, " begged the girls, "dolet us go. " The father consented and they all mounted the hill. It was a beautifulday. The sky was cloudless and the air was so clear and dry, that onecould see distinctly far out into the distance. Suddenly Andreasshouted: "Father, what is that I see? Isn't smoke coming up out of thewater?" The father looked in the direction pointed, and seeing smoke, said: "I don't know what it is. I fear it is a steamer on fire. Itseems, " continued he, shading his eyes, "that I see a dark spot, out ofwhich the smoke is ascending. Don't you see it?" "Oh, yes, " cried the girls, "and it has two sharp points at the top. " "I see it, too, " cried Andreas. "One point is higher than the other. "' "That is no ship, " said the father, "for a ship would have a differentshape, and wouldn't look so big from such a great distance. It must bean island, but I am sure I never heard of it. People must live there, orhow could smoke arise from it. " "Oh, my, " cried one of the girls, "wouldn't it be wonderful if our dearDavid lived there. " "Maybe so, " cried Andreas. "Nothing is impossible with God, " said the father. "We must leavenothing undone in our search for him. We will ask Uncle Philip's adviceand get him to help us. Let us retrace our steps, now, for it is timefor us to return. " Little did they know how truly they had prophesied, for the smoke whichthey saw was ascending from the fire on the rocky island--the same thathad cost David many tears of anguish and fear. When they reached home, they told the mother their happy conjecture atonce, and a faint ray of hope filled her heart. The neighbors were now called together, but their ideas on the subjectwere varied. "Nonsense, " cried one. "How did that island get there. I never heardabout it in my life. It must be a burning ship. " "No, " cried another, who always thought he knew better than anybodyelse, "that's no ship, but a volcano sending out its fire. I have oftenheard that such islands appear over night. We would come to a niceplace, if we should sail near such a fire-brand. " "It's either a ship or a volcano, " said a third; "but for a hundreddollars I wouldn't go over there in such little boats as we have. " "If you'll pay me, " said a fourth, "I will go, but not otherwise. " The old, honest Uncle Philip raised his quiet voice, and said: "Brother, I will go with you. Here is my hand on it. David was my beloved nephew. It may not be certain that he lives, hardly probable, but stillpossible. Therefore it is worth the trouble of undertaking the dangeroustrip; and God, who gives us courage to go ahead, will also see usthrough. " Peter, a young, strong lad, shouted: "I will go too. I have often riskedmy life for a fish, so I'll risk it now to save a human life, if I can. I want no money, for as long as I live I would be happy in the thoughtthat I had helped to save David, and this thought would be a sufficientreward. " "God give us all this joy, " said Uncle Philip. "If wind and weathercontinue favorable, we will set sail at daybreak. " The other mendeparted, shaking their heads and predicting misfortune. Peter and Uncle Philip remained and discussed the matter a littlefurther. "I will take my sail boat and furnish the food, " said Philip. The following morning proved perfect and a light wind was blowing. Mother and daughter accompanied the men to the boat landing, and said:"God grant that you may return safely, bringing our David with you. " The men unfurled the sails and pushed off from the land, passing thegreen island and going in the direction of the smoke. Nearer and nearer, did they come, and at last Peter cried: "It is really an island. Let ushelp with the oars. " Suddenly Uncle Philip shouted: "Stop, and furl thesails. There are many dangerous rocks in the sea. We must be verycareful or we will founder. " By means of the rudder and much care and pains, they at last made alanding. Peter was the first to leap on shore, and cried: "Now we havereached the island and perhaps we shall find David. Whatever is begun inGod's name and out of love to humanity, will succeed. " The other two men now stepped out and fastened the boat securely. UnclePhilip looked at the rocks, shook his head and said: "This isn't a niceplace to live. " They began to search the island and climbed over the rocks and deepclefts. At last they reached a little trodden path which led them toDavid's retreat. Peter hurried ahead. David had passed a sleepless night in fear and sadness. As the morningsun shone over all, a little lightness had crept into his heart, and hesank upon his knees and prayed. As David was kneeling, the three men came behind him. But he was soabsorbed that he heard no steps. Peter saw him first, and said to the others: "See, there is a hermit, maybe he can direct us. Brother, can you tell us?"--he had no time tofinish his question, for David had risen to his feet. He recognized hisfather, and cried: "Oh, my father! my father!" Then a silence broke overthem, for neither had the power to speak. At last they controlled their emotion and thanked God in one voice, forbringing them together. David then greeted his uncle and Peter andgathering up his belongings, hastened with them to the boat. On the homeward trip, David related all his adventures, and shed tearsof joy. Even his father had to dry his eyes several times. "You werevery wise, and helped yourself wonderfully. Necessity awakened yourunderstanding, " said Peter. "Don't you remember?" said his uncle, "what I once said to you that Godwould send you to a special school? That's where you've been. In theschool of Experience. In this school you learned to know God, to pray toHim, to love Him, and to thank Him for his blessings. What I find mostwonderful of all in your story is about the smoke which arose from yourisland. What is more trivial than smoke, yet the smoke was like a signfrom heaven, that this was an island upon which some one lived. That wasGod's finger. " All silently gave thanks for the sign. "I thought, " said David, "that the fire was the worst thing that couldhave happened to me, but now I see it was my greatest fortune. " Then Uncle Philip said: "Our beloved ones at home are watching andwaiting for our return. " So, Peter quickly busied himself with a stickupon which he fastened some ribbons. "What are you going to do with that?" asked David. "I promised your sisters if we succeeded in finding you, to raise thisbanner. How they will rejoice when they see it. " Then and there hefastened it to the prow of the ship. Each moment brought them nearer home and David's heart beat high withhope, for on the shore his mother and sisters and all the villagers, bigand little, were gathered. As David stepped on land, a cry of joy arosefrom the people; but the mother's joy at seeing her David was so intensethat she wept. Men and women, boys and girls, shook his hand and wished him a thousandtimes welcome. David's mother wanted to hear his story and was about todrag him home but the people wouldn't let her. "We want to hear it too, "and they led him to a big linden tree and bade him step upon the seatand tell his story. All pressed around him. All eyes were on him. Whenit was still, David began. He told them of his dangers, trials andsuffering, and said, in the end, that these had taught him the thingswhich he had never learned before. "I am grateful to God for mydeliverance and for the joy of being with you all again. " Thanking them for their interest in him and bidding them good-bye forthe present, he entered his father's house, where a hearty meal wasspread before him. When the meal was over, David opened his little bundle and displayed hispearls and corals and said: "I have brought you all a present from myisland. " All stood in astonishment and admired them. "My, my, " cried Uncle Philip, examining them closely, "you have broughtsome valuable things. These pearls and corals will yield much money, forsome of them are very large. Now you have helped your father out of allhis debts and trouble. " "No, no, " said his father, "we will share them with Peter and yourself. You shared the dangers of this trip with me, and you shall also sharethe treasures. Philip, you take first choice, and then Peter next. " Two of the men who had offered to go on the trip for money, now enteredthe room and wished they had gone for nothing. "For such a reward asthat, " they said, "it would have been worth while. " "Go, go, you poor, miserable wretches, " cried Philip, "you wouldn't movea hand or foot to help a fellow man in trouble without being paid forit. It serves you right that you get nothing, " "I wish none of this money, " continued Philip, "I have enough and ask nomore. But Peter must take his share, for the spirit which he showed gaveall of us courage, and he must be rewarded. Besides, he needs it. " Deeply touched, Peter took the reward with thanks. Then the grateful parents again urged Philip to take the pearls, but hereplied: "Let it be, as I said before. The pearls and corals are theleast that David brought back with him; for he has gathered unto himselfcostlier treasures: 'Love for God and to humanity. ' These are pricelesspearls. " Turning to David, he said: "Not only have you found these treasures forus, but you have brought good fortune to our little community. Forpearls and corals can now be gathered by the men of this village, andoffered for sale. This will furnish a comfortable living for many ofthem. So, you have become a public benefactor. " The little household soon resumed its usual routine and David enteredinto the life and spirit of his home. He became a model of virtue forthe village youths, and the joy, staff and crown of his parent's life. He grew to be a noble, pious man, full of love and helpfulness to hisfellow men; and his memory remains blessed. FROM ROYAL PALACE TO LOWLY HUT Chapter I. The Suburbs II. The Retreat III. The Prison IV. The Purchase V. Reunited FROM ROYAL PALACE TO LOWLY HUT CHAPTER I THE SUBURBS During those unhappy times when the Empire of France was overthrown anda number of the richest people were plunged into the deepest misery, avery wealthy family, named Berlow, lived in a palace in Paris. Count Berlow was a high-minded, honorable man, and his wife was good andcharitable. Their two children, Albert and Marguerite, were the exactcounterpart of their parents. Just as those revolutionary times broke forth, Count Berlow, with hisfamily, moved from Paris to his mansion in the suburbs. Here he livedquietly, surrounded by orchards of fruitful trees, free from the turmoilof the noisy city. His family rejoiced at having him constantly in theirmidst and he was glad at the opportunity of being the instructor of hischildren, particularly in music. One gloomy winter evening, the family was gathered in the brilliantlylighted music room. Count Berlow had composed a pretty little poem, andhad fitted it to music. Albert had with difficulty mastered the playingof it, but Marguerite could sing the song remarkably well. The childrenhad practised this piece faithfully and diligently and purposed tosurprise their mother by singing and playing it that very evening. Afterthe Count and Countess had sung several operatic selections, the fatherturned to his children, saying: "Let us hear what you can do. " Albertseated himself at the piano and played, while Marguerite modestly sangin a sweet tone. The Countess was delighted over this, their first song. She embracedboth the children affectionately, and praised them for their efforts andthe pleasure which they had afforded her. Suddenly, the door was thrust open, and armed soldiers crowded into theroom. The leader presented an order in which the Count was declared afriend of the King and an enemy of freedom and equality, and inconsequence he was to be conducted to prison. Although the Countess, weeping and lamenting, threw her arms about her husband's neck to holdand guard him, and his children clung to his knees, the soldiers rudelytore him from their embrace. The cries of the mother and children wereheart-rending. The unhappy wife did everything in her power to save her dear husband. She hastened to the city and appeared before the magistrate, to provethe Count's innocence. She called upon all her neighbors to beartestimony to her husband's quiet, retiring life, and to the fact that hehad taken no share in the affairs of his country, and had talked with noone concerning them. But everything was in vain, and she was informedthat in a few days her husband would be sentenced to death. After an absence of several days, the Countess returned to her countryseat and found her home occupied by soldiers, who had ransacked it andreduced it to a common tavern to which admittance was denied her. Hertwo children were nowhere to be found, and all her servants had beendriven away. It was late at night, and she knew not what to do next. As she turned, she met Richard, her old, true and faithful servant, whosaid to her: "My dear, good Countess Berlow, you, too, stand in dangerof suspicion this very minute, for you have been heard to speak of theinjustice and cruelty of the government. There is no escape for you, except by secret flight. You cannot save your husband, and your presencehere will only bring trouble upon your own head. Your children are bothin one of the out-houses with my wife. Follow me there. My brother, John, the old fisherman, has been notified, and I will take you to himto-night. He will conduct you and your children across the river tosafety. In this way you will at least save your lives. " She entered Richard's house, but there a new trouble awaited her, forMarguerite had become suddenly ill from the fright and the shock, andlay unconscious, sick with a high fever. The Countess wished to nurseher child back to health, but the doctor would not hear of it, andadvised her immediate flight. Richard and his good wife promised to carefor the sick child, as if it were their own. Countess Berlow knelt beside the bedside of her beloved daughter, andsaid: "If I must bow to this decree, I leave her in your care, my goodpeople, and ask God in His mercy to watch over her and restore her to mein His good time. " She paused for a moment, then rose quickly from herknees, kissed her unconscious child, took her son by the hand, andtrembling and swaying, hastened out of the house, without one backwardlook. CHAPTER II THE RETREAT Richard now conducted the Countess and her son to John, the fisherman, who quickly rowed them over the river to safety. As there was no time torest, with the help of a guide, the fisherman's friend, she hastened onwith her son to find the hut which Richard had suggested. After days and weeks of journeying hither and thither, over hills andthrough valleys, they found that their strength was almost exhausted. Atlast they came to a little low hut in a thickly wooded country. Theguide pointed to it with his staff, saying: "That is the hut; there livethe old shepherd and his wife who will harbor you. " Countess Berlow sighed, and followed the narrow path to the hut. The old shepherd, who had been expecting her, came forward with apleasant smile and welcoming, outstretched hands. To show his greatrespect for her, he had dressed himself in a gray suit. Around his neckhe had tied a red handkerchief, and he wore a nice, green hat with alittle bent feather at its side. "Greetings to you, noble lady, " said he. "I consider it a great honor toprotect you and your son. This is my wife, and between us we will do allin our power to make you feel contented. " So saying, he turned to his wife, who repeated his greetings, andinvited all to partake of her simple meal, which consisted of bread andmilk and a few apples. The good shepherdess then conducted the Countess to a room which openedon an adjoining room. These two rooms were to serve as bedrooms. Thelarger one was meagerly furnished, and its only window looked out uponthe forest and two high mountain tops. Countess Berlow was thankful for having been guided to this humbleretreat. She cared for her own rooms daily and spent the remaining timein knitting, sewing or reading. But her greatest anxiety was to findamusement for her son, Albert. She undertook to continue hisinstruction, but she was at a loss for books. One morning, as she sat musing over her wants, she was aroused from herreverie by the ringing of the near-by church bell. The good, oldshepherdess came running into the room saying that the clergyman fromover the hill would hold services in the chapel that day. CountessBerlow, with her son, hastened at once to attend. The clergyman delivered a short sermon, every word of which touched thehearts of his earnest listeners. After the services, the Countess soughtthe clergyman and engaged him in conversation. She found him to be athoughtful, devout, kind-hearted old man. He showed great interest inAlbert. He promised to supply the much needed books for his use, andoffered to give the boy two hours' instruction each day, provided Albertwould take the trouble to journey over the hills to his house. Albert promised to come, overjoyed at the prospect of continuing hisstudies under such an able teacher. He could scarcely wait each day forthe hour when, with his books under his arm, he would set out over thehills, whistling lively tunes and keeping step to his music. On rainy days, when the roads were heavy and ofttimes dangerous, he wasobliged to forego his visits. His mother would then suggest somerecreation for him, for she well knew that all work and no play wouldtend to make him dull. In this locality, large numbers of canary birds were raised and sold andsent far and wide to other countries. Even the old shepherd had many ofthese birds. Albert begged his mother to purchase one of them for him. "Marguerite always had one, " said he, "and I would dearly love to ownone, too. It would remind us of her and our own dear home. " His mother agreed, and Albert chose a bird that closely resembled theone belonging to his sister. The bird with its beautiful yellow plumage, its clear, brilliant, coal-black eyes, afforded Albert much pleasure. Soon the bird became tame, flew upon Albert's outstretched finger andate seeds from his lips. Whenever Albert wrote, the bird would alight on his penholder and peckhis fingers. Though he enjoyed the bird's presence and tricks, yet hewas obliged at times to cage him, in order to carry on his workundisturbed. Later, when the bird began to sing, Albert could not praiseit enough. "You must teach it to whistle nice songs, " said the old shepherd oneday. Albert thought the old man was joking. He did not yet know that one canteach a bird to imitate. The old man then brought out a flute andpresented it to him. "Oh, what a fine flute! How glad I am to own one, " said Albert. The old shepherd took the flute, played a waltz upon it, and showedAlbert how to use the stops, Albert was pleased with the light, cleartones of the flute, and as he had talent for music and had a good ear, he soon mastered the difficulties of the instrument. Often he played tirelessly for the bird and always a song which hisfather had taught him. After striving for hours and days and weeks toteach the bird, lo! his wonderful patience was rewarded. The bird beganto sing the song, and sang it through without a mistake. [Illustration: "Soon the bird became tame and flew upon Albert'soutstretched finger. "] Albert leaped with joy and thanks. He praised the bird, over and overagain, and rewarded it with lettuce, apple and hemp seed. The littleflute and the little bird helped Albert and his mother to while awaymany an hour. As the months rolled along, the sorrows of the Countess still layheavily on her heart. Many a night she spent in tears and sleeplessness, and many a day was sad and dreary. She tried very hard to cloak her woe, and hide it from her son. In her unselfishness, she choked back hertears and grief, filled each day with work, and gave strict attention toher son's comfort, instruction and diversions. She always had a pleasantword and smile for the old shepherd and his wife, whose life, thoughlonely, was spent in the satisfaction of right living and lending ahelping hand. The joy that comes from doing one's best is the onlylasting joy, for every other pleasure fades and passes away. Countess Berlow tried in every way to get news of the Count, but she hadnot been very successful, although some news was printed in the dailypapers. The thoughtful old clergyman sent her a copy of the news, onceeach week, as he did not receive it any oftener. One night Albert returned carrying the paper, and said: "The goodclergyman did not have time to read it through, but he noticed from thehead lines, that the paper contains much good news. " The Countess took it and read anxiously. Finding the news somewhatencouraging, she built hopes that soon she might return to her muchloved home; but, alas, in the very last column of the paper, she readthat many noblemen were to be sentenced to death for their loyalty tothe king. In the list, she found the name of her worthy husband, CountBerlow. She reeled as if struck by a thunder-bolt, the paper fell fromher hands and she sank in a swoon. A few minutes passed before the good shepherdess came in response toAlbert's cry, and brought the Countess back to consciousness. She had tobe carried to her bed, and it seemed as if she would never recover. PoorAlbert, who rarely left her bedside for a moment, began to fail and fadeday by day. The old shepherd often said, shaking his head at the same time: "Thecoming fall will surely scatter its leaves upon the grave of theCountess, and her poor son will doubtless never see the spring. " CHAPTER III THE PRISON The faithful old Richard had waited on that memorable day of the flightfor the return of his brother John, the fisherman. He was elated when heheard of the safety of the Countess. Richard's greatest trouble now washow to save his master, the good Count Berlow. He considered it veryunjust and cruel that an honest and right-living citizen should besentenced to death for loyalty to his king. On the following morning, Richard hurried to the city where his son, Robert, served in the National Guard. With help he hoped to gain ameeting with this good-natured, intelligent boy, who from time to timeacted as sentinel before the prison. He would try to secure his son'said in releasing the Count, so unjustly imprisoned. At last theopportunity presented itself, and father and son had a hasty talk overthe situation. Robert found no chance, however, and gave up hope ofsaving the Count. At last the day arrived when the Count's sentence was to be carried out. Sleepless and sad, with his head resting on his hands, the Count sat inhis lonely cell. The warden had not considered it worth while to bringhim a light, and heavy darkness enveloped him. He thought of his wifeand his children. Not for himself did he suffer so much, but for thosewho were so dear to him. He knew not where they were, and he was greatlytroubled about their condition. While the noble Count sat lost in these thoughts, a loud shouting arosein the corridors. Soldiers ran here and there, crying: "Save yourselves, if you can. Fire! Fire!" This reached the Count's ears. All at once thedoor of his cell was thrown wide open. Thick volumes of smoke and dustpoured in and dreadful flashes of light illumined his dark cell. A youngsoldier stood before him, and cried: "Save yourself!" Through the carelessness of a drunken servant, a fire had started in thebuilding. The soldiers had torn off their coats and weapons and hadhurried to put it out. Robert had seized the first opportunity thatafforded itself, had taken the clothing and weapons of a soldier, andhad hastened to the Count with them, saying to himself: "The only chanceto save him is to dress him as a soldier. " "Hurry, put on these clothes, " said Robert. He helped the Count pull onthe coat, placed the hat on his head, buckled on his knapsack, and gavehim a musket. The Count's face had not been shaved during hisimprisonment, so that this gave him the wild appearance which allsoldiers had at that time. "Now, " said Robert, "hasten down the steps and out of the front door. With this outfit, I trust you will easily get through the crowdunnoticed. Then go directly to John, the fisherman, and there you willmeet my father. " Count Berlow knew exactly how to act his part. Earnestly, as if he hadsome urgent business to transact, he hurried down the steps and shoutedin haughty tones to the men who were carrying buckets, "Aside, aside!"At last he reached the street without being detected. With quick stridesand fast-beating heart, he made his way to the city gate and continuedon, as Robert had taken care to give him the pass-word. At midnight, he reached the fisherman's hut. He knocked at the window. The fisherman came to the door, but stepped back frightened at seeing asoldier who might wish to arrest him or his brother. He based his fearson the fact that they had both made many enemies on account of theirfidelity to the Berlow family. When John recognized the Count, he raisedhis hands and exclaimed, "Oh, it's you, Count Berlow; how happy I am tobe able to help you!" Richard, who had waited and watched there for thelast ten nights, rushed into the room and shouted: "Oh, my master!" andboth embraced and wept. The first question which the Count asked was for his wife and children. Richard quickly related the details of their flight and the illness ofMarguerite, who had now recovered and was sleeping in the adjoiningroom. The noise, however, had awakened her, and recognizing her father'svoice, she rushed into the room. With great joy she hurried into hisoutstretched arms. He kissed her rosy cheeks and looked at her long andtenderly. The Count decided to continue his flight that very night from the landwhich once had been to him a paradise but was now only a murderers' den. On the same boat that had safely carried his wife and son, he now tookpassage. The old fisherman led the way and Richard followed last. Thenight was clear and the heavens bright with stars. Suddenly they heardsounds of shooting, and voices shouting: "Halt! Halt!--Halt, halt!--Youare deserters!" It so happened that when the fire in the prison had been extinguished, the soldiers had carefully searched each cell, to find if anyone hadescaped. To their great astonishment, they found the cell of CountBerlow empty. The soldier who had lost his uniform cried loudly withrage: "He has flown with my clothing and my weapons. Up and follow him!"The pursuers soon found a clue to the Count's route. [Illustration: "On the same boat that had safely carried his wife andson he now took passage. "] The poor Count and Richard were almost stupefied when they heard thedistant shouting, but they seized the oars all the more firmly and rowedwith every muscle strained to the utmost. Soon the soldiers reached theshore and began to fire upon the occupants of the boat. Marguerite creptunder the seat, while the men tried to dodge the bullets. One bulletpierced the Count's hat, two pierced Richard's oar. The little boat, which was scarcely an inch above the water, rocked and rolled and almostcapsized, but the occupants escaped without injury and finally reachedthe opposite shore in safety. Count Berlow was thankful for his escape, and so were Richard andMarguerite. They seated themselves on an overturned tree trunk, torecover a little strength. When they had rested a little, the Countquickly threw off his uniform and donned some old clothes belonging toRichard. With a staff in his hand and a bundle on his back, Richard nowled the way, while the Count and Marguerite followed. In order to allayall suspicion, Richard took a roundabout course through thethickly-wooded country. CHAPTER IV THE PURCHASE Count Barlow's greatest desire was to see his wife and son. "I shall nothave a restful moment, " said he to Richard, "until I shall have foundthem. You tell me they are safe in a shepherd's lowly hut, but how shallwe reach them? My daughter cannot go on foot, and I have not the meansto ride there. " Then Richard drew out of his bundle a bag of gold. "You are not as pooras you think, my noble master, " said he. "This money is all yours. "Count Berlow stared first at the gold and then at his faithful servant. "You see, " said Richard, "while you were rich, you paid me well andpresented me with large gifts of money. Many people, too, weregenerously aided by you. During the time you were imprisoned, I set outto gather in as much money from these people as I could possibly movethem to give you. 'Tis true we often find people who never feel gratefulfor any good they receive, but I must confess that these grateful soulsnot only returned all you ever gave them, but out of love and deepthankfulness added much more thereto. " Count Berlow counted the money. "It is a very, very large amount, " saidhe, and raised his eyes in thanks to heaven. "But how long can even thislast us?" "We will economize, " said Richard, "in every possible way, but let mefirst of all purchase a horse and wagon, " This was soon accomplished. The wagon was provided with a canvas covering, which served to shieldthe occupants from view, and also to protect them from the sun and rain. They rode for days and days, and the way was long and dreary. Owing tothe rough handling which the Count had received in the prison, theterror which his death sentence had caused him, the sorrow and fear ofhis flight, and the weariness of the journey, he soon became very muchweakened and was forced to stop at a little village and rest for awhile. Richard hired a few rooms and bought the food. As he was well trained inall household duties, he took upon himself the care of their temporaryhome. Marguerite helped, as best she could, and from morning till nightperformed each task willingly, always wearing a sunny smile. Count Berlow was confined to his bed for many weeks, and it was a longtime before he could sit up, even for a little while. Marguerite caredfor her father, read to him, cheered him, and thus made the time passpleasantly. Her father returned his thanks with every evidence of loveand contentment. Marguerite's birthday was now at hand. When she awoke one morning, shefound the window-sills filled with potted geraniums, her favoriteflowers, and a beautiful canary bird hanging above them in a prettygolden cage. The bird exactly resembled the one which she had had athome. She thanked her father in the tenderest tones for his selection. "Take these simple gifts, my child, for at present I can give you nomore. " Richard now served dinner and all seemed once more to be bright andhappy. When the meal was ended, the Count drank to the health of hisdaughter and his absent wife and son. "I wonder, my child, " said he toMarguerite, "where your mother and brother are this day, and how theyare celebrating your birthday? What has befallen them? I always had ahappy heart; but now I often have many troubled hours. I fear--I fear. " Marguerite threw her arms about her father's neck and tried to reassurehim. "Be comforted, dear father, " said she. "We shall be broughttogether again, for surely God cares for us. " "Yes, that is true, " he said, and dried his eyes. All was silent. It was a deep, solemn, soul-stirring moment. All at once the canary bird began to sing a song--the song which fatherand daughter recognized at once as the one which the Count had composedand taught his children. No one else had ever heard it or played it. Marguerite clapped her hands and shouted: "What can this mean! That isthe first piece that you taught us, dear father. " All gazed at the birdin astonishment. The bird repeated the song, twice, thrice. "It is oursong. No note is missing. " "This is truly wonderful, " said the Count. "Certainly no one could havetaught that song to the bird but my boy Albert; but how? I do not know. Now, Richard, where did you get this bird?" Richard then related how he had purchased the canary on the precedingnight from a bird fancier in the village. "Hasten to the village and possibly he may be able to tell you moreabout the bird. " Richard ran to the village, and was gone what seemed an interminabletime. At last he returned with the information that the fancier hadbought the bird from a little boy who lived with his mother, many milesbeyond, and who had trained this little bird to sing and whistle. Thefancier described the boy and mother so well that all were unanimous intheir decision that this was the boy and mother for whom they wereseeking. CHAPTER V REUNITED Preparations were now made for a hasty departure, for the Count seemedsuddenly stronger. Richard packed their belongings and placed them inthe wagon. The bird was hung from a hook fastened in the top of thevehicle. Everything was soon in readiness. On the following morning they started off. The Count and Marguerite wereregaled on the journey by the sweet song of the canary. It cheered themand seemed to make the time pass all the more quickly. After a journeyof twenty miles, they reached the village, at sunset. They repaired at once to the clergyman's house, where they learned thatthe Countess and Albert Berlow lived in the shepherd's lowly hut, somemiles distant. "The Countess holds her husband as dead, " said theclergyman, "and no joy can now penetrate her heart. Her health hasfailed and it seems as if she would not last very long. " Count Berlow asked how she could have received such incorrect news. Theclergyman then brought out a package of newspapers, searched for onesheet, and laid it before the Count. He read that, on such a day, and atsuch an hour, Count Berlow, with twenty others, had been hung. "Strangeit is, " said the Count, "either they forgot to cross my name from thelist, or else they did not wish to, in the hope that in that way theywould not be answerable for my escape. " It pained the Count sorely that this false news had brought muchsuffering to the Countess, for death seemed almost to have enrolled her, too. The clergyman advised them to proceed slowly and cautiously, lestthe joyful news of the Count's return should be too great a shock toher. Intending to follow the good clergyman's advice, they continued theirjourney. Soon they reached the summit of a wooded hill, and from thedistance they discerned the low hut with its flat, thatch-covered roofand smoking chimney. Richard then went hurriedly ahead. Countess Berlow, dressed in black, sat knitting at the fireside, thelight of which illuminated the room, which had been slowly filling withthe shadows of the approaching twilight. Albert sat at her side, readingfrom her favorite volume. As she saw her faithful servant enter, sheuttered a loud cry and her work fell from her hands. She hastened towardhim, and with a thousand exclamations of joy and pain, she greeted himheartily, as if he were her dear father. Albert, too, was deeplyaffected. Countess Berlow then pointed to a chair which Albert had drawn close tothe fire, and said: "My good, true friend, be seated. So we see each, other again. Over the death of my dear husband let us draw a veil. Thememory of it is too painful for me. But tell me, how is my daughter! Didshe die, as the doctor said she might?" Richard then explained that the doctor had diagnosed the case as moreserious than it really was, in order at that time to hurry the mother'sflight; and that Marguerite had very shortly after recovered and hadremained well ever since. The Countess was greatly pleased with thisreport, and her eyes gleamed with joy. "But, " said she earnestly, and with a clouded brow, "why did you notbring her with you? Why did you not tear her from the unhappyfatherland where no hour of her life could be safe? How could you leavewithout her--you hard, cruel man? Why did you not--" she could say nomore, for the door opened, and Marguerite rushed to her mother andembraced and kissed her as if nothing could ever again tear themasunder. Albert joined them and gladder tears were never shed than thosewhich the Countess wept in her exceeding happiness. Alas, the joy soon melted into yearning. "Oh, that my dear, true husbandstill lived, " said the Countess, as she looked to heaven, "for then mymeasure of joy would be full. Now, my dear children, you are poor andfatherless. The sight of you fills the heart of your oppressed motherwith pain. For what can I, a poor, lonely widow, do for you?" Then Richard interrupted the conversation with the glad news of theCount's rescue. The Countess proved herself more self-controlled thanRichard had anticipated, for the great joy of having seen her trueservant, the greater joy of again clasping her daughter in her arms wasfor this woman the preparation for the greatest of joys--the joy ofagain seeing the husband whom she had mourned as dead. The Count had long stood, with palpitating heart, waiting before thedoor of the hut, where each word had fallen distinctly on his ear. Richard's last words had scarcely been uttered when the Countess cried:"He lives; he has been saved from the hands of his oppressors. " TheCount then opened the door, and overcome with emotion, fell at the feetof the Countess. Timid and fearful, as if she half doubted that he really lived, shegazed at him long and steadily as the light of the fire irradiated hisface. She could scarcely express her rapture. Then after a long pauseshe said: "Oh, the joy of again seeing my loved ones for whom I havewept so long!" Father and mother, son and daughter, and faithful servant spent apeaceful, joyous evening in the little, lowly hut. The old shepherd andhis good wife shared in the contentment which filled their little hometo overflowing. On the following morning, there was brought into this lowly hut anotherguest who had rendered such helpful service in the speedy reuniting ofthe separated family--the little canary bird. Albert was delighted to see his bird again, for during his mother'sillness he had found it impossible to care properly for it, and hadreluctantly disposed of it at the fancier's in a distant village. Count Berlow then related at length the circumstances which had broughtthe bird into his possession and how it had helped to give him theneeded hope and strength to continue the journey which had ended sosuccessfully in their reunion. Albert joined in the conversation, and said, "Wasn't it a happy thoughtto teach the bird that particular song, when I knew so many songs? Butthen, you see, it was the song nearest and dearest to my heart. It wasmy father's song. Little did I think, when I had to part with my pet, that it would be taken from me only to restore my father and sister tome. " "So we see, " said the Count, "how through a little trial we may find agreat joy. I trust that through our losses we all have gained inhumility and sympathy, which have a lasting worth; and perhaps God willreturn to us our past fortune, just as he has returned your canary toyou. " Count Berlow was obliged to spend the winter under the roof of thislowly hut, and Richard was housed in a neighboring one. The canary bird was hung in the same place it had graced before it wassold to the fancier. Marguerite cared for it daily and never neglectedto give it proper food and water. Often, when the family was gathered together around the friendlyfireside, on a cold winter's evening, the bird would begin to sing thesong so acceptable to them. The children and the parents would join inthe chorus, and they found therein comfort and hope. The noble family was forced to live for some time in these same narrowquarters; but at last they were permitted to return to their fatherland, where they again came into possession of their property. The Count andCountess rejoiced in being wealthy once more, for now they could returnin measure full and overflowing, the goodness and kindness of thefriends who had proven themselves in the hour of need. The good, faithful Richard, with his kind wife and their clever, honestson; John, the brave old fisherman; and the helpful shepherd andshepherdess, together with the devout clergyman, were among the first toreceive this reward--the expression of gratitude and love from a familyof loyal members. THE UGLY TRINKET CHAPTERS. I. THE OPEN DOOR. II. THE TEST. III. REVERSES. [Illustration: "Nursed her foster-mother with the tenderest care. "] THE UGLY TRINKET CHAPTER I THE OPEN DOOR Respected and beloved by all her neighbors, Mrs. Linden, a rich widow, lived a solitary life in her grand, old castle. One day some urgent business called her to the city of Antwerp. Here shewas detained longer than she had expected, and during her stay shevisited the principal points of interest, among them an old cathedral, famed far and wide for its beauty. With deep reverence, she entered this time-honored house of worship. Itshigh, vaulted roof, its long rows of stately columns, its beautifullypainted windows, the altar in the distance, and the twilight and thestillness of the holy place filled her with admiration and awe. In herheart arose a feeling of the nearness of God, and she knelt and prayed. Then she passed slowly on, stopping often to study the wonderfulpaintings by the old masters, and the inscriptions upon tablets placedon the walls in memory of notable men and women long since passed away. Suddenly she stopped and read a tablet. It had been placed there inhonor of a pious woman who had suffered much in her life, but had alwaysstriven to do good; and these words were written there: "She rests fromher cares, and her good deeds live after her. " Mrs. Linden then and there resolved that as long as she lived she wouldbear all her troubles and trials patiently, and do good to all, so faras lay within her power. As she neared the altar of this grand cathedral, she noticed a littlegirl eight years of age, clad in black, who was kneeling there andpraying fervently. Her eyes were riveted on her hands, tightly claspedbefore her, so she noticed nothing of Mrs. Linden's presence. Tears wererolling down her cheeks and her face had a look of sorrow and reverence. Mrs. Linden was at once moved to pity. She did not wish to disturb her, but as the child arose, she said softly: "You seem sad, my little one!Why do you cry?" "I lost my father a year ago, and a few days ago they buried my mother, "said the child, as the tears rolled the faster. "And for what did you pray so earnestly?" asked Mrs. Linden. "I asked for help. 'Tis true I have some relatives in the city, and Iwould like one of them to take me. The clergyman says that it is theirduty, but they do not want the trouble. I can't blame them, for theyhave children enough of their own. " "Poor child, " said Mrs. Linden, "no wonder you feel sad. " "Truly, I was much sadder when I entered this cathedral, " said the girl, "but all at once I feel much better. " These words pressed on Mrs. Linden's heart and she said, in a motherlyway, "I think that God has answered your prayer. Come with me. " "But where? For I must return to my house. " "Let us go to the clergyman. I know him well, and I will ask hisadvice, " continued Mrs. Linden. Then she offered her hand to the child, and led the way. The aged clergyman arose with astonishment from his chair, as he saw thewoman enter with this child. Mrs. Linden explained to him how and where she had met the little one, at the same time asking the girl to step aside while she engaged the oldman in quiet conversation. "I have decided to adopt this little girl and be a mother to her. My owndear children died when they were infants and my heart tells me that Icould give the love that I had for my own to this little orphan; but Iwould like you to advise me further. Do you think that my care would begiven in vain?" "No, " said the clergyman, "a greater deed of charity you could not do;nor could you easily find such a good, well-mannered child. Her parentswere right-living people, and they gave this, their only daughter, agood training. Never will I forget her mother's last words: 'Father, Iknow that Thou wilt care for my little one, and send her anothermother. ' Her words are now being fulfilled. You have been sent to dothis. " The old clergyman then called the little girl into the room, and said:"Amy, this good, kind woman wishes to be your mother. Do you want to gowith her and be a good daughter to her!" "Yes, yes, " said Amy, and cried for joy. "That is right, " said the clergyman. "Be to this gracious woman, the newmother whom God has sent to you, as good and obedient a child as youwere to your own mother. Remember that trouble and sorrow may come intoyour life, as they must come into every life; but if you pray with thesame trust in God as you prayed to-day, help will surely be sent in thesame way. " Her relatives were then summoned and acquainted with the fact, and notone of them objected; instead, they were very much pleased. When Mrs. Linden said that she would take the child just as she stoodthere, and that they could have all of her clothing for their ownchildren, they were more than delighted. But Amy begged to keep just a few books which her mother had given her, and which she cherished; and this wish was granted. On the next morning, Mrs. Linden and Amy started for the castle home. The servant, who had expected them, had everything in readiness. Afterthe evening meal had been served, Mrs. Linden showed Amy to her room. Amy was charmed with her home and her new mother. With tears of thanksshe prayed, and soon was fast asleep. When she awoke, she found the sunstreaming into the room. She walked to the window and gazed out into thelovely, sunny grounds and wooded walks surrounding the castle. In thedistance, she could see the spire of the grand cathedral. After a few days, Mrs. Linden sent Amy to school. When she returned eachafternoon, she helped in the garden and in the kitchen as much as heryears would permit; for Mrs. Linden wished to train her to a useful, industrious life. Often, when the opportunity offered, she taught her tosew and knit and care for the house, something she thought that everygirl should learn. Under the guidance of such a kind, loving woman, Amygrew to girlhood, simple and modest. CHAPTER II THE TEST Ten years passed by, filled with joy and happiness. Then suddenly Mrs. Linden became dangerously ill. Amy nursed her foster-mother with the tenderest care and bestowed asmuch love upon her as if she were her own mother. She entered the sickroom noiselessly; spoke in soft, gentle tones; opened and closed thedoors without the least sound, so that Mrs. Linden preferred to have Amyrather than a nurse. Often Amy would sit in the darkened room and watch over her chargeduring the long, weary hours of the night. Days and weeks passed, andthe invalid grew no better; still Amy nursed her with the same untiringpatience and care. Mrs. Linden was very thankful that she had taken Amy into her home andheart, and realized it more and more each day, and said: "My dear Amy, you do so much for me. A daughter could do no more. God will reward you. I, too, will not forget you; and you shall see that I am notungrateful. " Amy bade her speak no more about it. Mrs. Linden said no more on the subject. After a lingering illness, shebecame very weak, and at last passed away. Amy cried as bitterly at this loss as she had done at the loss of herown mother. In the course of the week, many of Mrs. Linden's rich relatives weresummoned to the house, where her will was to be read. The lawyerunfolded the document, and Amy was greatly surprised to learn that herfoster-mother had bequeathed to her five thousand dollars, with theinstructions to choose from her treasures the costliest, as aremembrance. The rich relatives were not pleased with this bequest, nor did they wishAmy to take any of the rings, pearls or jewels. Amy had never beencovetous; and when she was told to select, she said: "It is not at allnecessary for me to have a valuable remembrance. The smallest piece willsuffice. Knowing that it comes from such a good woman, it will havegreat value in my eyes. It is more than enough that she has bequeathedto me such a large sum of money which I have not earned. Therefore, Ichoose the old, tarnished, clumsy locket which she held in her hand andwet with her tears as she bade me good-bye. This will be the mostprecious treasure for me, and I know her blessing will go with it. " One of the onlookers laughed and said to Amy: "What a silly girl. Whydidn't you take the diamond ring? That ugly old locket, what good isthat! How ridiculous for you to choose such a worthless thing!" But Amy was more than satisfied and perfectly contented; while the richrelatives quarreled over the distribution of the other trinkets and hadmore disappointment out of it than pleasure. The relative to whom the castle had been bequeathed gave orders to Amyto find a new home. This she had in a measure expected, of course, butshe did not know just where to go. At last the old gardener and hisgood, kind wife offered to share their home with her. She thanked themheartily and gladly accepted. Amy now invested her money in a business house in the city, and althoughher income was not large, still she had enough for her simple wants. One year went by in quietude and peace, in the simple surroundings ofthe old gardener's home. But as the new occupants of the castle nolonger wished the services of a man as old as he was, he received ordersto leave. This meant to give up his life-long work and the home whichhad become so dear to him. "Be comforted, " said Amy, "for I will collect my money and buy a littlehouse near the city. Then I will take in some sewing, and we can allthree still live together contentedly. " They soon found a house whichsuited them exactly. As Amy had not been able to get her money from the merchant, they wereobliged, for the time being, to borrow it from another man, to whom shepromised payment when her money fell due. The house was bought and renovated to suit them. It was small andsimple, but ample for their wants. Amy kept the home bright andcomfortable; flowers graced the windows, and the old people basked inthe sunshine of her smiles and helpfulness. Although they could see the castle in the distance, where they had spentso many years of their lives, and from which they had all three been sorudely cast, they never longed to return; for their little home wasfilled with happiness and contentment. As joy and sorrow, however, mustchange places with each other now and then here upon earth, so thislittle household was called upon to meet an unwelcome friend, "Trouble. " CHAPTER III REVERSES One morning, after almost a year's sojourn in the little home, the newswas brought that the large business house in the city where Amy hadinvested her money had failed, and that the whole amount was lost toher. The time was almost due to pay the debt on the house. Where wouldthe money come from, now that they could no longer give security? Sad, troubled days had dawned for them. On the eve of the day when the payment on the house was due, Amy went upto the attic, where she could be alone and cry out her grief, and pray. In her anxiety and nervousness, she clutched the old, ugly locket thathung from a chain--the little reminder of the time of her joys, hersorrows, her patience, her trust and her gratitude, while she lived withher good foster-mother. In one moment of intense feeling, she pressed the locket tightly in anagony of grief. Lo! as she unfolded her hand in utter helplessness, thelocket fell apart. Into her lap rolled one little stone after another. When she took them up to look at them, she discovered that each stonewas a diamond, seemingly of great worth. She raised her thankful eyes to heaven and poured out her gratefulheart. She paused, then gathering her treasure in her hands, shehastened with joyous steps to acquaint her two companions of herwonderful discovery. The good, old people were overcome with joy, and thanked God, again andagain. Then the old man said: "With the money that these jewels willbring you, you can pay for the house and still have enough left to keepyou comfortably. " Early the next morning, Amy hurried to the clergyman, her very bestfriend, to show him the jewels and tell him how accidentally she hadfound them. "May I, " said she, "keep these costly jewels or must I return them toMrs. Linden's heirs? I think they are the most valuable of all thetrinkets that she left. " "No, " said he, "the jewels belong to you. Mrs. Linden intended them foryou, I am sure, when she gave you the right to choose first, and takethe best. When you selected the least attractive trinket, youunknowingly chose a treasure which to you was only valuable because wornby the one whom you hold dearest. God sent you this secret treasure; andit is worth many thousand dollars, at least. Take it, sell it, and enjoythe benefits which you derive therefrom. But always keep the locket, asa memento of Mrs. Linden and her great benevolence. "