CHAPTER II.

[THE HARTZ.]

EARLY on the following morning, Herr Brockmann, his wife, and Adelbert, with the servants who accompanied their master and mistress, were seated in a comfortable travelling carriage, and driving towards the long wished-for mountains. It was decided that they should spend a month or six weeks in the "Hartz," in order that they might thoroughly enjoy all their wonders and beauties. The weather was glorious, the air deliciously mild and balmy, and there was every sign of a long continuance of sunshine and blue sky.

Adelbert would have pressed forward without rest or pause; the large towns they passed on the journey had not the slightest attraction for him, and he would hardly vouchsafe them even the most passing attention. What interest had they for him, who had just come from Hamburg, that peerless city, with which, in his opinion, no other could compete? His heart was in the hills and vales of the "Hartz," in the babbling brooks and murmuring tree-tops, and when he first caught sight of the blue misty outline of the "Brocken" in the distance, he cried aloud with excitement, stretched out his arms longingly towards it, and sighed for wings that he might plunge at once into all its delights.

He was nearly beside himself when, in the dewy freshness of morning, he saw for the first time one of the loveliest valleys of the "Hartz," the "Selkethal," and beheld in reality that which till now had only been presented to his imagination in shadowy pictures and shapeless outline! Here was the brook that leapt, splashing like living crystal over the many-coloured pebbles in its bed. Here, right and left, rose the mountains clothed with thick forest, whose foliage was beautiful with the green freshness of spring. Here the meadows with their countless gay flowers gave forth the most delicious scent, their stems and leaves glittering with dewdrops, sparkling like diamonds in the centres of the little delicate blossoms. A soft, blue haze hung over the distant hills, while from the cool shade of the surrounding trees up rose the clear voices of the winged songsters of the forest; the whistle of the blackbird, and the sweet notes of the goldfinch and linnet sounded joyfully on the air, and the nightingale sat in the thick alder bush and told her tale of love and sorrow in deep and heart-stirring harmony, while at intervals the call of the cuckoo rang out clearly, far and wide over the mountain side.

Adelbert could no longer bear the restraint of the carriage; he sprang out, his parents followed, and the carriage came after at a distance. It was truly beautiful now that the noise of wheels no longer disturbed them. Adelbert listened and gazed in a perfect transport of delight, and often he stood still that sight and hearing might enjoy to the utmost the surrounding beauties. More softly murmured the brook, fuller and more joyfully rang the songs of the birds, and—but what is that? A distant sound of bells fell on the ear, becoming deeper and clearer as they approached, now here, now there, sounding fairy-like out of the dark pine-woods far upon the mountain side, out of the little valley below, and sometimes from the thick underwood close by the wayside.

"What is that?" asked Adelbert in hushed voice, as though spell-bound by the enchanting tones. "Can it be earthly music? Only listen, father! Listen, mother! What is it?"

His parents listened, entranced, to the unaccustomed sounds which rang out of the thicket, now clearer and louder, now scarcely heard, but always lovely, pure and harmonious. Presently a dog barked, and the powerful voice of a man was heard calling to it; the bells were quite close, and see! Out of the underwood in all directions came a numerous herd of sleek cattle; they gazed for a moment with their large, soft eyes at the strangers, and then leisurely bowed their gentle heads to crop the sweet, luxuriant grass, growing on the banks of the rivulet.

"A herd! A herd of cows with bells on leathern belts round their necks!" cried Adelbert. "Look, father! I never thought they could have sounded so wonderfully sweet and soft."

They listened to them for some time, till the herd had passed on deeper into the forest, and the music of the bells had melted into the softest tinkling, and then they resumed their wanderings in the blooming meadow, along the side of the brook, by a lonely mill, whose loud clatter awoke the echoes, and the great mill-wheel as it swung round, threw off the drops of water like myriads of diamonds.

Presently, on reaching the top of a little ascent in the path, where the valley, narrow till now, opened out on each side, Adelbert came suddenly to a standstill, gave a cry of surprise and admiration, and pointed with upraised hand to the distant heights.

"Oh father! Mother! Look yonder! How magnificent!" cried he.

And beautiful indeed was the scene that met their sight. On the top of steep slopes, clothed with thick underwood, out of which peeped here and there, rugged masses of bright red rock, there arose a stately castle, with high commending towers, on whose gilded vanes the sunbeams gleamed like stars. Nobly and proudly the grand old walls looked down from their height into the narrow green valley, shut in by rocks and hills. In the distance was the rushing mill-stream, in the surrounding bushes the birds sang with the greatest joyfulness, large butterflies of the most gorgeous colours fluttered gaily from flower to flower, and high in the air far above even the proudly raised castle-keep, floated a lordly eagle on apparently motionless wing soaring in its measured and circular flight.

"Father, what a splendid scene!" cried Adelbert, after a pause of silent admiration. "Now you will never laugh at me, and call me a foolish, imaginative dreamer again, because I longed for the 'Hartz' mountains. Could anything be more delicious than to live here, seeing each day some new beauty of nature, and breathing continually the pure mountain air?"

"Certainly," said his father, "it is good to gaze on beauties so refreshing to the sight and enlarging to the mind; but to dream away one's life in a valley like this, far from all the world, however beautiful it may be, would in time become very tedious. Besides, in the winter these mountains are covered with cold, dreary snowdrifts, instead of fresh verdure, as now. No, my child, there is a time for everything; besides, life has its claims, and it is not the beauties of nature, but a well-regulated industry, that can make one happy after all."

"For example, if I could be a huntsman or a charcoal-burner," said Adelbert, "should I not have all that could satisfy me at once? Hard work and lovely nature would go hand in hand, and each would increase the pleasures of the other."

"Very true," answered his father, "if you had been born and bred in these forests, such a life might satisfy you, but you have grown up with perfectly different surroundings, and in quite different circumstances; and I think every one ought to seek to fill well the situation in which it has pleased God to place him. Accustomed to a large busy town and many comforts, which you could not fail to miss were you deprived of them, you would soon find a lonely, toilsome life in the forest become very irksome, and you would long again for home and all its luxuries. 'Every man in his place,' dear Adelbert, and your calling seems to me to be, following in my footsteps, and carrying on my business in the distant countries of the globe. The life of a charcoal-burner would hardly do for you."

"Perhaps not," said Adelbert thoughtfully, "but I should like to try it, nevertheless."

"And it would be the same thing over again as your trial of Robinson Crusoe's life," said his mother laughing, as Herr Brockmann elevated his eyebrows, and made no answer. "Your father is right, every one should be content with his lot. The calling of a huntsman or charcoal-burner is as honourable as any other, but one should be born to it. Providence has placed you in quite another position."

Adelbert listened in silence, but was not convinced, and the next moment was dreaming again of a forest life, and thinking it the finest in the world.

The impressions he received from the journey in the "Hartz" did not change his opinion, but only strengthened it. Favoured by the beautiful weather, the wildly romantic valleys, the distant views of the hills and open plains, appeared doubly charming, and his whole soul was filled with admiration at the wonders nature displayed.

After wandering about for a fortnight, it was determined to stay some weeks in the charming little town of Ilsenburg, and to make numerous excursions from thence into the country round, as Madame Brockmann was tired, and required rest and repose.

Here, then, Adelbert had the opportunity of revelling to the utmost in nature and its beauties, for the green boughs of the forest nodded to him quite close to the windows, and seemed often to beckon to him to come to their green bowers, and refresh himself in their cool shade. The bright little river "Ilse," with its clear crystal waters, leaped over the smooth pebbles close by the house, and its murmuring and babbling sounded in his ears like seductive voices whispering,—

"Come, child, come, and revel in my loveliness, stroll along my banks, and see how beautiful they are, and how joyful and frolicsome I am. Where the proud oak rears its head, and the beech spreads its broad branches, where the bold rocks rise rugged and bare, and the little brooks run purling down the mountain side, where the birds sing sweetest, and the flowers bloom brightest, there is my home; and there I leap and skip in joyful dance like a playful, happy child; and there you will be happy too, as you never can be in the great, wide world outside."

So the "Ilse" seemed to plead, and Adelbert listened only too willingly to the fascinating voice.

"Only wait," he whispered to the murmuring rivulet, "I will come and enjoy all the delights of your kingdom; yes, yes, I will come and wander by your side to where the bold rocks jut forth, and the proud oaks rear their heads, and perhaps even farther, till I find what I long for; only wait, and I will surely come."

And one morning, when he had risen with the sun which shone clear and bright out of the blue heavens, he could no longer resist the temptation, and came to the determination to penetrate at once into the depths of the forest. He dressed himself very quietly, so as not to awaken his parents, who slept in the adjoining room, took his walking stick, hung his satchel over his shoulder, put his straw hat on his head, ran lightly downstairs, across the court-yard, and out at the back door, telling them in the house to say, if his parents inquired for him, that he had gone a little way into the forest, and they were not to be anxious about him, for he should be back by the middle of the day.

Perhaps he really intended to be back by noon; more probably, however, he had not thought about it. All he cared for was to breathe the fresh mountain air, and drink his fill of the soft breezes. So he wandered onwards along the banks of the murmuring Ilse, as it leapt from rock to rock in its headlong course, and onwards under the shade of the grand old forest trees, which spread their green roof over his head.

The dewy breath of the morning refreshed and strengthened him, the flowers smiled at him, the green bushes on the banks whispered soft morning greetings to him, and the little birds looked at him with clear and friendly eyes, and sang "Welcome, welcome!"

An elegant little roe-deer sprang from its covert in front of him, and seeing him, was continuing its graceful flight; but as he stood quite still, it lingered, turned its head towards him, and gazed at him with its soft, liquid eyes. It seemed to know by instinct that it had nothing to fear from the bright, smart little boy. Very closely it examined him; the clean white trousers, the light blue frock with the snowy shirt collar over it, the straw hat with its gay-coloured band, and the round, rosy face underneath, with the fresh, red lips and cheeks, the large, soft blue eyes and white brow, shaded by golden curls, appeared to please the little animal. For a minute or more it remained in the same place, till at last Adelbert plucked a green branch from the nearest bush, and held it invitingly towards it. Then the deer turned away, lifted its delicate, slender little foot, and stepped slowly into the thick underwood; Adelbert followed, but that it did not approve of. One other look it gave the boy, then with two bounds it cleared the nearest bushes, and the next moment had disappeared.

"What a pity!" murmured Adelbert. "I would not have hurt the pretty little animal."

As he went farther and farther into the forest, the more beautiful it became. He really was in the midst of the woods now, as much so as even he could wish. High and steep were the mountain sides, high towered the trunks of the oaks and the beeches, and their stately heads waved in the breath of the morning breeze. The Ilse skipped joyfully along, and sprang headlong from rock to rock, bustling and foaming in mere wanton sport. All around was still and lonely, no voices were heard but those of nature; the world, with all its noise, and busy, never-resting crowds seemed to lie far away, miles and miles beyond the hills. None of its clamour penetrated into this solemn loneliness to disturb the delicious calm.

Adelbert, as he went on, was never tired of gazing, listening, and dreaming, and inhaling the fresh mountain breezes. Sometimes he stood still and listened to the song of a bird, to the tapping of a woodpecker on the trunk of a tree, to the rushing of a waterfall, or to the sound of a woodman's axe, echoing from afar through the forest glades.

"Perhaps that is a charcoal-burner, felling the trees far his kiln. How nice if I could discover him, and talk to him, and get him to tell me about his life in the beautiful wilderness! And why should I not try to find him?" continued he to himself. "The morning is not very far gone yet, I can tell by the shadows on the mountains. I must leave the little river, certainly, but I cannot help that. I shall soon find my way back to it, and then I can go home; and if not? Why, the charcoal-burner will show me the way, there is nothing to fear."

No sooner said than done. He listened intently for the blows of the axe, turned away from the course of the river, and penetrated into the wood in the direction of the sound. The blows sounded louder and louder, but the woodman must have been farther off than he imagined. Uphill and downhill he went, climbing and clambering, now down into a deep dell, over rolling stones which gave way under his feet and came rattling and clattering after him, now up a steep bank that he climbed with difficulty, often on his hands and knees, slipping and sliding, clinging to roots and shrubs, sometimes in danger of falling back again to the bottom. However, he did not mind this much, for he was strong and active, a very fair climber, and possessed a steady head.

Bravely he pushed on towards the sound of the axe, and was confident he must at last reach the spot where the woodman toiled in the lonely wilderness. All at once, a rapid mountain stream too wide for him to leap across, stopped him. He hesitated; should he go back? No; the way back seemed long and tiresome; besides, he began to feel rather tired, as well as hungry and thirsty. His thirst he was able to quench, for there was no lack of water in the brook, and it was as fresh and clear as liquid crystal. He stooped, took up the water in the hollow of his hand, and quaffed the refreshing draught; thirst was allayed, but then he was hungry too. He found a few berries on the bushes, but they did not serve to appease his appetite.

"Ah, well," thought he, "I must wade through the brook, and invite myself as guest to the charcoal-burner; even if I do get a little wet, it will soon dry in this warm sunny weather."

After searching a short time, he came to where several large stones seemed to lie smoothly under the water, and made the landing easier on the opposite bank. He sprang boldly from one to the other, and congratulated himself that the water hardly reached to his ankles; only one more spring to make and he would be over. He made it and—fell full length in the brook. His foot had slipped in springing, and the cold mountain torrent rushed pitilessly over him. Fortunately, it was not very deep, or the bottom very stony; so with a single effort, he regained his feet, and waded the rest of the distance to the opposite shore, and there he was on the other side at last, but wet through to the skin, with the water running from him in streams.

"That was an unwelcome bath," grumbled he; "I should not have thought the water could have been so cold. But what does it matter? A quick run will warm me, and I will spread my clothes at the charcoal-kiln: that will soon dry them."

He shook himself like a dog, climbed up a bank, over the top of which the sound of the axe seemed to come, and stood on the top for some moments; suddenly the blows ceased.

"The man is having his breakfast; I will look for him, he cannot be much farther off now," said Adelbert to himself.

So he went fearlessly in the direction whence, a few moments before, the sounds of the blows proceeded. He pushed hastily through bushes and shrubs, till, after nearly a quarter of an hour's scrambling, he was stopped by a thicket of brambles extending right and left, as far as he could see between the trees.

"How stupid!" said he. "But it can't be helped, I must go through, or I shall get too far out of the way."

He made an attempt to do so, but was soon obliged to desist; the hard, sharp thorns scratched his face and hands, and tore his clothes, and, before he had taken ten steps, his nice white trousers were completely spoiled, and his blouse was full of three-cornered holes.

"This won't do," murmured he, "I must try another way. If I only go a short distance round, I shall still come to the charcoal-burner at last."

He turned wearily away from the thorny bushes, went quickly a little way along the edge of the thicket, and came at last to a place where it seemed less dense, so that he could get through without further damage to his clothes or his own skin. In a short time, he left the disagreeable place behind, and turned once more in the direction in which he expected to find the woodman.

He could see nothing but forest everywhere—nothing but the trunks of countless trees, whose branches formed the most glorious leafy canopy. This was doubtless very fine, but Adelbert thought it would not be amiss if he could come across the woodman's hut. Where could the man have hidden himself? He must surely be close by, only he could not see him, because of the thick shrubs and bushes. He stood still and called as loud as he could, "Woodman! Woodman! Where are you?"

"Where are you?" answered a clear voice.

Adelbert pricked up his ears, but it was only his own voice that the echo caught up provokingly. He called again louder than before, and then listened, but no voice, save that of the echo, gave him answer. He now began to lose heart a little. Suppose he had missed the right path and had passed the cottage in the thick forest? Where should he look for it now? Whichever way he took might only lead him farther wrong. Should he turn back for good and all, and try to reach the Ilse once more? That would perhaps be the most prudent thing to do; but he did not relish the idea at all, for the way was long and disagreeable, he was very hungry, and by the time he had found the river and reached Ilsenburg, he should be starving. He had only to go forward, and by good luck he should find the woodman's cottage, or if not, he should at any rate get out of the forest and find inhabitants; there he could get help, for fortunately he was not without money, as, just before he went out, he had put his purse, containing some silver, into his pocket.

So he went on, and about a hundred paces farther on came to a clearing, and looked down into a lovely green valley, through which ran a little brook. Under a shady group of trees Adelbert could see the roof of a cottage, and still farther off, behind a slight projection of the hill, there ascended a blue smoke, rising like a thin veil over the mountain side. Adelbert was so glad; there were then inhabitants in the valley below, and he was saved! He ran quickly down the hill, found a narrow footpath, and following it, arrived at the cottage he had seen from above.

On entering, he found it empty, though with evident marks of habitation, for there was a fire on the hearth, over which a large pot was boiling. Parlour, bedroom, kitchen—all stood open, and Adelbert could walk through them.

"The birds are flown," said he, "but they cannot be far-off, some one must come soon to look after the pot on the fire; I will wait."

As he felt tired, he sat himself down on a wooden stool in the little parlour, and rested for a few minutes, and then becoming impatient, he went to the door and sent a loud "Halloa!" down the valley.

The "Halloo!" was returned, but this time it was not his own voice, but a strange one, deep and powerful, that answered him.

He went in the direction of the call, round the end of the projection he had noticed from above, and came out upon a large flat space, in the centre of which was a burning hill; it was a large kiln, as Adelbert knew at the first glance, and near it was working a tall strong man, with smoke-begrimed face and thick matted hair and beard, who handled the heavy iron shovel as though it were a hazel-wand.

"Who have we here?" cried he to Adelbert, in a friendly tone. "How came you here in the midst of the forest?"

"I have lost myself, Mr. Charcoal-burner," said Adelbert boldly, for he felt no fear, but only joy at the sight of the man, in spite of his strange and wild appearance.

He had read, that though the charcoal-burners were somewhat rough and uncivilized, yet on the whole they were honest and good people; so he went straight up to the man, and held out his hand to him, saying,—

"Good day to you, Mr. Charcoal-burner, I am very glad to see you, for I have been wandering about in the forest ever since five or six o'clock this morning, I have eaten nothing but a few berries, and now I am hungry."

"Well, who would have thought it?" said the charcoal-burner, looking at Adelbert with eyes that glanced sharply and brightly out of his weather-beaten face. "But you must wait a little while till my old woman is ready with the victuals; it won't be long, it is noon now. Sit down the while on yonder bank under the trees."

Adelbert took the hint and stretched himself comfortably on the soft mossy slope.

"What place is this, good man?" asked he.

"The 'Wolf's Hill' in the Ranschethal," said he. "Presently you must tell me how you got here, but don't bother me with your chatter now; I must mind the kiln, or the flames will break out; afterwards we will have a talk."

The man's voice sounded rough and rude, and his harsh words rather frightened Adelbert, so he sat still and watched the charcoal-burner, who went round and round the kiln, occupied sometimes in one place, sometimes in another.

Nothing further was said for about half-an-hour, when a clear voice from the cottage above called out, "Severin, Severin! Dinner is ready!"

"Very well, old woman," cried the man in answer, "I'm coming directly." Then turning towards the forest, he called loudly, "Hans!"

"Halloa, master!" came back the answer.

And after a pause, there was a sound of quick heavy footsteps, and a man came out of the nearest bushes, who was nearly as tall and strong as Severin himself, and quite as rough and smoke-begrimed.

"Go to dinner, Hans," said his master, "and when you have done, come here and look to the kiln; in an hour or two the charcoal will be ready, and you must mind it till then."

"All right, master," answered the man, who was the servant or assistant of the charcoal-burner, as he walked away with the same heavy but quick step.

"You may go with him and dine, if you can't wait," said Severin to Adelbert.

"No, I will wait and go with you, sir."

"All right, as you like; but don't say 'sir' to me, we are not accustomed to that sort of thing in the forest,—do you hear?"

Without waiting for Adelbert's reply, he took up his iron shovel and went once more to attend to the kiln. Wherever the vapour and smoke threatened to break out, there he was instantly and cleverly at work, and proved himself perfect master of his business, whilst Adelbert watched his movements with such interest, that he forgot hunger, fatigue, and everything else.

After about a quarter of an hour Hans reappeared, and Severin handed him the iron shovel saying, shortly, "Watch carefully that nothing happens." And turning to Adelbert said, "Come along, youngster, now we will go to dinner."

Adelbert sprang up, took without ceremony the black hard hand of the charcoal-burner, and walked by his side to the cottage. The man smiled good-humouredly, for the boy's bold, confident manner seemed to please him.

"My gracious, Severin, who have you got there?" cried a woman, who was standing at the door of the cottage, as they approached.

"You can see for yourself, old woman; it is a boy," replied the man, "he lost himself in the forest, is very hungry, and would like some dinner. I suppose there is enough for us and Bastel too?"

"Oh dear, yes! Even if I go without myself," said the woman good-naturedly, as she looked curiously at Adelbert; "but perhaps the young gentleman won't relish our fare, he seems to belong to gentlefolks, and is accustomed to better than he will find here."

"Never fear, old woman," said Severin, "the boy is hungry, and hunger is the best sauce, only be quick and give us what you have. Is Bastel here?"

"Yes, he has just returned from the forest, and has brought a beautiful trout with him of nearly two pounds weight; I will soon cook it for the young gentleman; but won't Bastel stare when he sees the grand visitor! Here, Bastel, Bastel! Just come here a minute, quick!"

"Yes, mother," called he from the inside of the cottage, "here I am, what do you want?"

"Why, just look; we have got a visitor, a real little gentleman," said the mother; "now mind you are civil to him."

"Oh yes, that I will," said Bastel, as he and Adelbert looked curiously at one another.

Bastel was a fine-looking lad about the same age as Adelbert, perhaps a little older, but far taller and stronger. Light-brown curly hair fell on his shoulders, his face was deeply tanned by the air and sun, his blue eyes sparkled as bright and clear as those of a hawk, the expression of his features was honest and open. His dress was the simplest imaginable,—a coarse shirt, jacket, and trousers of strong homespun linen with a cap of the same material,—was all he wore; shoes and stockings he had none. Still the boy looked nice enough, for his dress, though simple, was perfectly neat and clean, and the white shirt collar set off the sensible brown face to advantage.

"What is your name?" demanded Bastel, when the two boys had had a good look at each other.

"My name is Adelbert,— Adelbert Brockmann, of Hamburg."

"Of Hamburg! Why, that is a long way from here?"

"Yes, forty or fifty miles."

"And how is it you are so torn and scratched?" said Bastel, laughing. "There is hardly a whole place in your nice clothes; what have you been doing?"

"I fell into the brook, and got stuck in the brambles," answered Adelbert rather irritably, "that might happen to anyone; and besides, I do not come from Hamburg to-day, but only from Ilsenburg."

"Ah, yes, and got lost in the woods," said Bastel rather scornfully, "that often happens to city children, but never to me. I can always find my way, however far I wander; but of course that is because I was brought up in the woods. Now don't vex any more at having lost yourself, I will soon show you the way back to Ilsenburg, that will be fun for me."

"Come to dinner, lads, come to dinner," shouted the powerful voice of the charcoal-burner from the cottage, into which he had gone, leaving the boys to themselves.

"Come along," said Bastel, seizing Adelbert without ceremony by the arm, and leading him into the parlour to the table, which was covered with a clean coarse cloth, on which stood a large earthenware dish of dumplings, and another dish of stewed bilberries.

For Adelbert were placed a plate, knife and fork, and a bright tin spoon; Bastel and his father had only the last-named article, and ate out of the dish.

"It is quicker, and tastes just as good," said the charcoal-burner, as he remarked the astonishment in Adelbert's face. "Plates are scarce in the forest, and the potter lives along way off; but take what you want and never mind us, we shall get on very well without plates."

Adelbert did not need a second invitation, for the dumplings and bilberries looked delicious. He attacked the dishes bravely, and did not leave off till he had disposed of three of the largest dumplings, and a corresponding quantity of bilberries. After that, he ate a good slice of the pretty spotted trout, which the good woman served up most invitingly for him, and then he felt satisfied.

"How nice that was!" said he. "Many thanks, good people, for all your kindness. I have never tasted such a delicious trout as that at Ilsenburg."

"Just so," said the charcoal-burner, laughing good-naturedly. "Do you hear, old woman? I said hunger was the best sauce. Well, now, you must tell me, my boy, how you got here. What are you doing at Ilsenburg?"

"We are staying there, my parents and I, for a few weeks, because it is such a beautiful place."

"Oh, so your parents are there too; did they know, then, that you were going to wander in the forest?"

"Yes, I told the waiter to tell them so; they were asleep when I started."

"And now they are in a fine state of anxiety about you, because you have not returned, I'll be bound."

"Yes, very likely, my mother especially, she is always so anxious," answered Adelbert, not without a pang of remorse. "What can I do?" continued he, "I am very well off here, I would gladly stay for good and all, and become a charcoal-burner like you. It is so very beautiful in the green forest."

"And you are a very foolish boy, it appears to me," answered Severin drily. "With those little hands, and that delicate pink-and-white face, to become a charcoal-burner would be very fitting, certainly. Now, if you were a lad like my Bastel here, he is cut out for it, he has the proper bone and muscle, and although it is hard work, he can fell the trees, hew them in pieces, saw then and split them into logs, build up the kiln, and manage the burning as well as I can. A delicate town-bred child like you would not be fit for it; your fine clothes and little white hands and neck would soon be as black as my hands and my jacket there."

"What does that matter? I should like to try for a little while, at all events, it must be so nice to work in the shady woods, with the birds singing so sweetly up amongst the branches."

"Yes, and in the winter, when the snow is yards in depth, and icicles a foot long hang from the branches of the trees, and the sharp north-east wind cuts through clothes and skin to your very bones, and freezes the blood in your veins," said the charcoal-burner mockingly. "No, no, little boy, you do not understand that sort of thing, it is not your place, you belong to the town, and your little hands are more fit to wield the pen than the iron shovel. Now, with my Bastel it is just the contrary; he would never in his life be clever with the pen, though he can already manage the iron shovel for his old father right well. Yes, yes, 'every man in his place;' the city child belongs to the city, and the forest child to the forest. Changing them never succeeds, many people have tried it."

"I should not like the town," said Bastel; "but Adelbert is right, father, in wishing to be in the forest. Here, in the mountain valleys, it is so much more beautiful than in the narrow streets amongst the crowds of people, where one can neither move nor stir. I went once to Wernigerode, Adelbert, with father, when he took some charcoal, but I could not bear the close stifling streets, although the mountains and woods were so near; indeed, for my part, I do not care if I never see any more houses."

"Because that is your nature," said his father earnestly; "you are a forest child, and it suits you best to live in the forest. It is fitting for you, but it is not fitting for that boy, because he is a city child and has rich parents; I can tell that by his clothes, although they are torn and dirty. See, Bastel, he has a gold chain hanging out of his pocket, and very likely a gold watch at the end of it."

Bastel looked, and said curiously, "Is it true? Have you a gold watch? Oh, do show it me, I never saw such a thing in my life, although I have often heard of them."

Adelbert drew the watch out of his pocket and handed it to Bastel, who examined it with the greatest interest, especially the delicate machinery of the interior.

"It is very pretty," said he, "but I should not know what to do with it, after all, the sun is my watch, and that always goes right."

"Just so," said his father; "I have never gone by any other in my life; but put the thing away, Adelbert, we must think of other things now. You must go back to your father and mother, and the sooner the better, for of course they do not know where you are. Listen, Bastel, you know the way to the valley of the Ilse; you must go with him, till he can find the way by himself."

"That I will do willingly, father," answered the boy, "but only look at him; he is so tired with wandering about in our hills, and it is six good miles to Ilsenburg, over hill and valley. He cannot go so far again to-day, and he cannot pass the night in the woods."

"Impossible!" cried Adelbert. "Six miles to Ilsenburg; I did not think I had walked two!"

The old man shook his head. "Well, it is rather a long way," said he. "What is to be done? We cannot leave your poor parents in suspense; the best way will be to send Hans to Ilsenburg, and I will mind the kiln the while. Yes, that will be the wisest plan, and then you can rest to-day, little boy; have a good sleep to-night, and start with Bastel by break of day to-morrow; that's how we'll manage. Take care of him this afternoon, Bastel, and amuse him as well as you can, I must be off to the kiln."

"Yes," answered Bastel, "I will go with him to the trout stream and fish, that is amusing and not tiring, perhaps we shall catch another trout for supper; I have seen one more than once, that weighs over five pounds. If we could get him, it would be capital."

"Then go and try if you can catch him," said his father, "but come home in good time, and don't get into mischief. Your parents are staying at the 'Trout' Hotel, are they not, Adelbert? Very well; Hans must go there. I will send him off at once."

Severin left the cottage to go to the kiln, and Bastel beckoned to Adelbert to accompany him.

"Come," said he, "the day is good for fishing, most likely they will bite; do you know anything about it?"

"I have never tried in my life," said Adelbert.

"Then you must learn, it is not difficult, and I will show you the way."

Adelbert thought no more of his fatigue, and Bastel, taking two rods that stood in a corner of the room, gave his companion one, and they set off.

The way led up the valley to a shady little pond, formed by the brook that ran through it; and the water in it was so beautifully clear that you could plainly see the bottom. A few large trees on the bank rose high above the low bushes, and stretched their thick roots into the water, where they formed little caves and grottoes.

"He is hiding himself in one of those holes," said Bastel; "if we can persuade him to come out, he is ours. But he is very shy, and not easily caught; however, we will see. Throw your line there by the great alder bush, and I will try my luck here; but I will show you how to do it."

Adelbert soon learnt how to manage, and when the float swam quietly on the water, Bastel left his pupil to himself.

"You have nothing to do, but to stay quite still and watch," said he. "If the float only moves a little, don't pull the line up, for it only shows that the fish is playing with the bait; but when the float is drawn under the water with a jerk, then hold fast to the rod and call me, the pulling out the fish is the hardest part, and must be understood, so don't try it by yourself, or he may pull you into the water instead of you pulling him out; if he is a great fellow, he won't stand much trifling with."

Adelbert promised to follow these instructions to the letter, and seated himself under the shade of the trees, whilst Bastel took up his post about thirty yards farther on. It was cool and quiet here in the deep valley, by the water-side. The cork floated motionless on the smooth surface of the pond, and not a single fish seemed to trouble itself about the bait.

Some time passed in silence, and at last, Adelbert began to feel sleepy. Involuntarily his eyes closed, though he still kept a firm hold on the rod. All at once, he was aroused by a jerk: the rod was torn out of his hand, and only half awake, he had but just time to prevent its being drawn quite into the water, narrowly escaping a fall into the pond himself. The float had entirely disappeared, and as he was looking for it, he saw by the pulling and tugging at the end of the line that a fish, and a large one too, had taken the bait, as was soon proved by its nearly jerking the rod out of his hand again.

"Oho," thought he, now thoroughly aroused, "it shan't get away like that."

And steadying himself with his feet against the root of a tree, he held the rod with both hands. He soon saw, however, that the fish was too strong for him, and remembered Bastel's advice, that he should call him in such a case. He was half inclined to do so, but was ashamed to cry for help, and besides, he wished to show Bastel that he was a match for a fish by himself; so he held fast, and tried by every means to bring the fish ashore, and saw to his joy that he was succeeding, but, just as he had brought his captive close to the bank, and could see plainly that it was a trout of an unusual size, it seemed as if it took its tail in its mouth, and at the same time gave such a spring, that he was obliged to let go the rod, in order that he might not be compelled to bear the fish unwilling company in its cool element.

Before he had recovered from the surprise occasioned by this mischance, rod and all were floating on the water, pulled about in all directions by the struggles of the trout to free himself.

Now he called with all his might and main, "Help, Bastel, help! Or he will get away."

"I'm coming," said Bastel, and was there in a twinkling. "Where is it? What have you done with the rod!"

"There it is, look," answered Adelbert, "the fish pulled it out of my hand into the water, and nearly dragged me in, too."

"Yes, because you did not do as I told you," said Bastel. "Well, it is lucky it ended there, and spared you a second cold bath to-day. But we must get the rod again, and the fish, too, at the end of it; he must be a fine fellow, and we must not lose him."

In a moment, he had thrown off his clothes, sprung into the water, and swum to the fishing-rod. When he reached it, he seized it with his teeth and came back to the bank. The trout tried to prevent him and to pull the rod away from him again, but he did not succeed, and Adelbert could not but admire the cleverness with which Bastel slackened the line, and drew it in again, just at the right moment. As soon as he could touch the ground, he took the rod in his hand and waded quickly to the shore, drawing the fish after him. But the capture was not effected as speedily as Adelbert expected; the fish fought for its life, and there was for a few minutes a somewhat doubtful battle before Bastel could land it; and it was only by skilfulness and dexterity that he succeeded at last, and one sharp blow put an end to the struggle.

Bastel rejoiced as he put on his clothes. "That's it," said he, "that is the trout I have been trying so long to catch, and I don't believe we should have got him to-day, if he had not been so over-cunning. He saw directly that you were not used to fishing, and as he recognised me as his old enemy, he gave me the 'go-by,' and thinking he was in no danger from you, snapped up the bait. Yes, yes, that's it. But all his cunning has not served him, we have got him at last, and a fine fellow he is, at least six pounds weight, I have never seen a larger or heavier one. But, Adelbert, you must be a soft fellow to have let the rod go."

"It might have happened to you, too," answered Adelbert sulkily, "the brute nearly pulled my arms off."

"Ah, yes, because you did not know how to manage," rejoined Bastel. "Father is right; such a dainty, town child is not fit for the forest. But come along, we will take the trout home to mother."

Bastel slung the fish on a piece of string, passed through its gills, so that he might carry it conveniently, and started homewards with Adelbert.

The birds sang as gaily as they did in the morning, and Adelbert listened to them with the greatest pleasure, especially to a magnificent blackbird, sitting far above their heads, on the highest branch of an oak-tree, and carolling forth from there its sweet flute-like notes.

"How lovely that is!" said he to Bastel. "How happy I should be, if I had a blackbird like that."

"Would you really like it? You can easily have it, if you would."

"You are only joking; Bastel, how could you catch it up there?"

"Oh, that's nothing," said he, quite astonished that Adelbert should doubt so simple a fact. "In ten minutes you shall have it in your hand, and afterwards I will make you a cage of willow-twigs, so that you can take it back with you to Ilsenburg to-morrow. And we will find it some food, too. I know some fine ants' nests, and blackbirds are very fond of ants' eggs. Afterwards you can give it berries, and rolls soaked in milk; we have not any rolls here, but you can get them from the baker's in Ilsenburg, father brought me several from there once. But first of all, we will take the trout to mother, and I must get out my snares."

The cottage was not far-off, so the trout was soon disposed of, and both boys hastened back to where the blackbird still sang, high amongst the branches. Bastel placed his trap, baited it and went with Adelbert behind the trunk of a tree near at hand, he then whistled a few peculiar notes; before long the blackbird left the tree, saw the bait, darted upon it, and in a moment was struggling in the net. Adelbert was beside himself with joy, and praised the skilfulness of his new friend.

"Oh, that is nothing," said Bastel, "you only wonder at it because you are a town boy, and know nothing of the forest. I know all the birds about here, and the proper traps to catch them with; there is no skill in it. But now I will make you a cage; there are plenty of willows not far from here."

They soon found them, and Bastel cut a quantity, and peeling them, in less than an hour he had woven them into such a neat cage, that Adelbert could not admire it enough; the blackbird was placed in it. Bastel gave it plenty of food, and the thing was done.

"What shall we do now?" said he. "Do you like strawberries, Adelbert?"

"Oh yes, that I do, better than anything; are there many about here? I have only seen a very few to-day."

"That is because you did not know where to look," said Bastel. "There are quantities; up above there, the ground is quite red with them. Come with me and see."

Adelbert followed willingly, and Bastel led him to a place literally strewn with ripe strawberries.

"Eat away," said he, "and I will gather for you the while."

Adelbert ate as fast as he could pluck the sweet red berries, but he was not half satisfied when Bastel, who had gone a little way off, returned bringing him his cap full of the most beautiful fruit.

"Here, catch hold," said he, "I have not had half enough, and must get myself some more."

"But how could you pick so many in such a short time?" asked Adelbert, staring with amazement.

"Oh, I am used to it," answered Bastel. "Quick eyes and quick fingers are everything; now eat as many as you want, and when you have had enough, we will go to the Conies' Hill. I must catch a couple of conies for mother to make soup to-morrow, they make a capital stew."

"Conies!" exclaimed Adelbert. "What are they? Are they birds?"

"You might as well say fish," laughed Bastel; "how silly you are! Conies are conies, that's all I know about it; they are like hares, only not so large, and we may catch them in nets and snares without the keeper's saying a word to us, but hares are forbidden."

"Oh, I know, they are rabbits, we have some at home," said Adelbert.

"All right," answered Bastel, "we call them conies here, and they make first-rate soup."

With these words, he betook himself to gathering strawberries again, and when Adelbert could eat no more, they left the strawberry-bed and went, Bastel leading the way, to the "Conies' Hill," as they called it, a barren sand-hill, in a little valley close by, and in some places quite perforated with holes.

"Do you see how they are running into their holes?" said Bastel. "But we will soon get out as many as we want."

He went to a large oak-tree, whose trunk was hollow from age, and soon came back with his arm full of little nets, and a box that he placed on the ground.

"There is a ferret in here," said he. "Carl, the keeper's son, sent it to me; but the next thing is to place the nets."

Adelbert watched everything that Bastel did. He spread his bag-like nets before several holes, which he examined carefully, so that the mouth of the net enclosed the opening, fastened them to the ground with wooden pegs, and then took the ferret, a small thin animal, hardly a foot long, with yellowish-white fur and red eyes, a pointed nose, and sharp teeth, out of the box.

"What are you going to do with the little animal?" asked Adelbert curiously.

"You'll see directly," answered Bastel, "I am going to send him into the conies' houses, and he will bring out every one of them."

"Ah, now, you want to make a fool of me, Bastel," said Adelbert rather angrily. "You need not take me for an idiot, because I am a town boy."

Bastel laughed heartily. "Now you really are a fool," cried he; "why should I tell you a lie? If you don't believe me, keep your eyes open, and you will see."

He carried the ferret to the entrance of a hole, not covered with a net, and put it down; the animal snuffed about for a minute with its long nose, and then ran into the hole and disappeared.

"He is gone," said Adelbert, "how will you get him out again?"

"He will come out of his own accord," replied Bastel, "now just watch, and you will see how he will make the conies run out."

A few moments passed in watchful silence, then a noise was heard in the rabbit-burrow, and suddenly they came out of the holes in all directions, and running into the nets, were caught in the meshes. A few, more lucky than the rest, came out of the holes where there were no nets. Like lightning, they fled for their lives in fear and trembling into the open space, as though the destroyer were behind them, and saved themselves in the thicket beyond.

Quite satisfied, Bastel took up his nets, killed the struggling rabbits with a blow on the head, and put them altogether into a bag; there were six of them in the nets.

"And now for the ferret," said Adelbert.

"Here he comes," replied Bastel, and pointed to one of the holes; "do you not see him poking his long nose out and smelling about? We will have him directly."

Laying the bag containing the rabbits on one side, he went to the ferret, pulled him out of the hole, and gently stroking his white fur, put him back into his box, and once more hid it with the nets in the hollow tree.

"There!" said he. "Now we have done enough for to-day, and will go home; the sun has already sunk behind the mountains, and it seems to me as if we should have a storm. Look at those black clouds, Adelbert; we must be quick, if we wish to reach the house with dry clothes."

The hollow sound of distant thunder proved the truth of his words; the air had become very hot and close, and it seemed likely that they would be overtaken by the storm in the forest.

"Quick, quick!" cried Bastel, as he threw the bag containing the rabbits over his shoulder. "We must run as fast as we can."

Without keeping to the path, he hastened straight to the cottage, and Adelbert followed him through thick and thin, for the threatened storm was coming up quickly, and the rolling thunder sounded nearer and nearer. Suddenly a rushing noise was heard through the forest, and the air became dark as night, although the sun was still above the horizon.

"What is that?" asked Adelbert fearfully.

"Oh, it is only the storm sighing in the tops of the trees," said Bastel. "It will be here directly, do you hear?"

Adelbert listened, and the roaring and rushing came swelling up from the distance, ever louder and louder, like the sound of the surf that the wind hurls against the rocks. And now it broke immediately above the two boys; the tall heads of the trees bent like weak reeds, the boughs cracked and strained, and clouds of leaves were whirled through the air. At the same time, the thunder rolled and crashed with threefold fury, and woke the echoes from valley and cliff, whilst the lightning flashed with dazzling brightness out of the dark clouds.

Adelbert was pale as death; he had never seen such a storm in his life; mountains and hills seemed to be whirled round by the fury of the storm, as if the end of the world were come. Awe-struck and frightened, he remained rooted to the spot.

"What are you stopping for?" cried Bastel to him. "Run, I say, the rain will come down like a waterspout directly. There! The first drops are beginning to fall; luckily, we have not much farther to go."

As Adelbert could not regain his courage directly, Bastel took him by the arm and dragged him unceremoniously along. "We can hardly see or hear," said he, "but yonder lies the cottage."

The sight of the sheltering roof reanimated Adelbert's failing courage, and he hastened on at Bastel's side, and by great efforts they reached the door just in the nick of time, for hardly had they passed the threshold, when the rain came down in torrents, and the very foundations of the earth were shaken by the fearful claps of thunder and the raging storm.

"Thank Heaven, we escaped it by a hair's breadth," said Bastel to his parents, who had been watching rather anxiously for the boy's return, as he stopped into the parlour and shook the rain-drops off him. "That is a bad storm, father."

"Yes, indeed; I am all the more glad now that I sent Hans to Ilsenburg," answered the charcoal-burner. "Your parents would be in sad anxiety, if they did not know you were safely housed, Adelbert; you must see now how foolish it was to wander into the forest in such a thoughtless manner."

Adelbert nodded, and looked very penitent; besides, he did not feel quite easy, for the storm, the lightning, and the claps of thunder raged faster than ever, and the rain fell in streams. At home in his father's house in Hamburg, where there was a lightning-conductor, he always felt secure, but here, in the forest, it seemed very dangerous, and, to tell the truth, he was afraid. The life of a charcoal-burner did not seem so desirable as he had before thought, and he began to see its disadvantages.

After the storm had raged for an hour or more, the thunder subsided into distant grumbling, though the rain did not stop, but pattered continually on the leaves of the trees.

"It is over," said the old woodman, as he looked out for a moment into the dark night, "at least, the thunder is, and now we can think about supper; how does the trout get on, mother?"

"It will be ready in a minute," answered the woman, hastening actively into the kitchen.

They talked a little at supper, but Adelbert soon felt so dead tired that he closed his eyes.

"The dustman has come," said Master Severin laughing, "take him to bed, mother, and let him sleep, he must be tired, for he left home betimes this morning."

Adelbert threw himself on the bed prepared for him, and was instantly so fast asleep that the crashing thunder itself would not have awakened him.

On the following morning, the cloudless blue sky smiled again on the newly-refreshed earth, but the ground was so saturated with wet, and the brooks so swollen by the rain, that it was impossible for Adelbert to go all the way to Ilsenburg.

"You must wait till the middle of the day," said Master Severin, "by that time the water will have subsided and the ground dried up, then you can go, my lads. In the meantime come with me, you must help me to split logs to build up a fresh kiln, Bastel, as Hans has not come back yet; the weather has kept him, I daresay."

"Yes, father," said Bastel willingly.

And Adelbert also asked to be allowed to help with the work. "It will be great fun to be a charcoal-burner for a little while," said he.

"You!" said Severin, laughing. "Hardly, I should think; but try it by all means, you will soon be tired of your extraordinary fancy."

After the simple breakfast, consisting only of goat's milk, with bread and cheese, both the boys accompanied the charcoal-burner to the kiln.

Severin pointed out to each of them a great heap of wood already sawn into logs, that had to be split, and provided them with the necessary tools, axes, and mallets. Bastel set to work bravely, and Adelbert took great pains to follow his example; he chopped and chopped with all his might at the logs, without being able to hew a single one in pieces; whilst Bastel had already quite a heap of split logs lying round him.

Adelbert was ashamed of his awkwardness, and redoubled his efforts, but gained nothing save tired arms, wounded fingers, and blistered hands.

At last, quite discouraged, he threw down the axe.

"It won't do," he sighed, as he wiped the perspiration from his face. "I see now, Severin, that you are right,—I am not fit for a charcoal-burner; and besides, I only like the forest in fine weather; after all, I think I prefer a town life."

"I thought you would be cured of your fancy before you were an hour older," said the charcoal-burner, laughing heartily. "Yes, yes, 'every man in his place.' You are about as likely to make a charcoal-burner as an oak-tree to turn into a birch. Providence has ordered it so. The good God gives to each one different talents and powers; and every one should be brought up and trained in his proper sphere, or he will be good for nothing.

"Bastel there, I am thinking, will be a first-rate charcoal-burner one of these days, and doubtless Heaven will also mark out your path in life; you will discover all in good time what you are fit for. One cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, or a sow's ear out of a silk purse, though both are useful in their way; that is an old saying, but a very true one.

"Now, let alone the axe, and amuse yourself some other way, if you can. Up yonder you will find lots of strawberries, go and get some, they are ripe and sweet, and when Bastel has done what he is about, he shall come and help you."

Adelbert followed the old man's advice, and betook himself to the strawberry-bed. Whilst he was gathering the luscious fruit and putting it in a little basket that Bastel had given him, he thought over the words of the simple-minded but sensible charcoal-burner, and was more and more convinced, that with his plain, straightforward common sense, he had hit the right nail on the head.

"I am a very foolish boy, with all my ridiculous whims and fancies," he argued, rather ashamed. "I have annoyed my dear father and mother with them, and will try to make up for it in the future. From this time, I will be guided by my father, he will know what is best for me, and I will give up all other nonsense after this; that's what I'll do."

Two hours passed quickly whilst he was thus engaged, and he was in the act of coming back to the kiln with his basket full of the most beautiful strawberries, when the sound of a well-known voice filled him with surprise and delight.

"Adelbert, Adelbert! Where are you?"

"Here I am, mother," cried he joyfully.

And bounding down the slope, he threw himself into the outstretched arms of his mother, who overwhelmed him with kisses and tender reproaches; whilst his father said a few words, to which Adelbert listened very attentively and humbly.

"Forgive me, my dear father and mother, for all my past follies," he cried, full of repentance, "I see now how silly and absurd I have made myself with all my ridiculous whims and fancies; this honest man, who so kindly received me into his house, when I was wandering like a fool in the forest, has opened my eyes; only forgive me this once, and as long as I live, I will never try again to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear."

His father laughed, whilst his mother once more pressed her son to her heart.

"Make a silk purse out of a sow's ear!" cried Herr Brockmann. "What does that mean?"

"Come to Master Severin, father; he will explain it all to you."

Herr Brockmann turned to the old charcoal-burner, shook him warmly by the hand, and entered into conversation with him, in which he appeared soon to become much interested. Adelbert in the meantime told his mother all that had passed since they parted, and she looked at Bastel in the most friendly manner, as Adelbert praised his conduct, and told gratefully of all his kindness.

"We are much indebted to you, my dear boy," said she, "you must come back to Ilsenburg with us, and remain as long as we stay. But you, naughty Adelbert, what sorrow and anxiety you have caused us! If your kind host had not sent the messenger, we should not have closed our eyes all night, especially after the dreadful storm in the evening. Early this morning, we started from Ilsenburg with donkeys and horses, as the messenger told us there was no carriage-road up here into the forest. And now come and dress yourself properly, for at present you are not fit to be seen. My goodness, Adelbert, what a sight you are!—Ragged and dirty as the veriest little beggar-boy. Luckily we have brought linen and clean clothes, and all that is necessary; come, be quick and change your things, that you may look like a decent boy again."

Adelbert accompanied his mother to the cottage, one of the baggage-horses was unloaded, and he soon reappeared clean and tidy, as he had been when he started the morning before from Ilsenburg.

Bastel looked at him admiringly, but the old charcoal-burner said, laughing,—

"There now, that fine gentleman is just fit to burn charcoal, that is the sort of thing we are used to up here in the forest; eh, Bastel?"

They all laughed, Bastel included, but Adelbert hung down his head ashamed.

"It serves me right to be laughed at and made fun of," said he, "I have deserved it, but it shall not happen again; 'every man in his place,' you have said, Master Severin, and I shall remember that."

"It will be the best thing you can do," said his father drily. "But now we will let bygones be bygones, and hope that experience has at last taught you wisdom. Let us talk of something else. We have only an hour or two to stay here."

So they chatted away whilst they ate the good things which Adelbert's parents had brought from Ilsenburg. Afterwards, they had a full account of all the little adventures that had befallen Adelbert during his wanderings in the forest. And Herr Brockmann listened with marked attention to all that he said of the kind-hearted hospitality of his host, and of Bastel's good nature.

"I see we are much indebted to our new friends," said he, "and it will give me the greatest pleasure if I can be of use to them. Tell me candidly, Master Severin, what I can do for you; speak freely, for I am rich, and would gladly do what I could to help an honest man like you."

The charcoal-burner looked embarrassed, and was obliged to consider whether he had anything to wish for; at last he said, "If I had land and gold, what good would it do me in the end? I am no longer young, and have learnt nothing but how to burn my charcoal. Certainly, if the tar-boiling and potash-works, and all the rest of it, which make the woods so valuable to the Count up yonder, belonged to me, I know all about that, and could go on in the old way: but I am too old to learn anything new, and I am content to earn my daily bread in my accustomed manner, till it please the good God to close my eyes. That's how it is, sir, and you must not take it amiss, and I thank you heartily for your kindness, but I will remain here as I always have been, sir."

Herr Brockmann shook his head, glanced at Bastel, and whispered a few words to his wife, to which she replied with a nod of approval.

"Well, well," said he, turning again to Severin, "perhaps you are right not to alter the style of living to which you have been so long accustomed. But there is your son Bastel; he is young, and, from what I have seen and heard, possesses a good understanding and a clear head, it is a pity he should be buried here in the forest; let me take him back with me to Hamburg. I will keep him and send him to school with my son, and some day I will make a merchant of him."

"That requires a good deal of consideration," said Severin, in answer to this well-meant proposition. "If I felt sure that it was for the boy's advantage, I would not say a word against it. But you see, sir, Bastel is a forest flower, and forest flowers belong to the woods, and very seldom thrive in the close air of the city. There are exceptions, I daresay, and perhaps this may be one, as you are kind enough to interest yourself in the boy, sir, but it must be considered. What do you think about it yourself, Bastel? And you, mother? You have a voice in the matter too."

Bastel's eyes sparkled and his cheeks glowed. Adelbert had already told him many strange and wonderful things of the life and customs in the great city, and he longed to become acquainted with all the grandeur he described.

"I should like to try it, father," said he, after a little consideration.

Master Severin had not apparently expected such an answer, for he was not a little astonished.

"What!" said he. "Have you forgotten going to Wernigerode, Bastel, and how you could not get away quick enough to come back to the woods and mountains?"

"Yes, yes, father, I remember quite well," answered the boy rather embarrassed; "but, after all that Adelbert has told me, I see it is quite different in Hamburg: the large ships in the harbour, the magnificent houses, and the great wide sea. All that and much more besides, not to be found in Wernigerode, I should like to see and become acquainted with."

Master Severin shook his head. "I do not think you will like it," said he; "but I will not stand in your light, Bastel. That be far from me. And you, mother, what do you think?"

"I don't know, I don't know," answered the simple-minded woman; "let me alone and don't ask me, it is always hard for a mother to part with her child. But if it is for Bastel's good, then the yearning mother's heart must be still. Do what you please, you two, only don't ask me."

"The parting is not for ever, my good woman," answered Madame Brockmann, in a friendly tone. "Bastel will come home again after a time, and then you will be pleased to find him a clever and accomplished young man."

"But will he wear as fine clothes as Adelbert?" asked the mother anxiously. "And live in your grand house, and eat at your table?"

"Certainly he will," said Herr Brockmann interposing; "I promise you he shall be treated in everything as my own son; you may rely upon that and it will not be to his loss."

"Well, be it so then," said the woman with a sigh, "his welfare comes first of all. I will not hinder you, Bastel, only you must not quite forget the old home in the woods, and the poor old father and mother."

"Oh no, mother, no fear of that," cried Bastel in heartfelt tones; "and besides, I can always come back if I do not like Hamburg. Is it not so, Herr Brockmann? You will not compel me to stay?"

"With regard to that, you will always have your own way; and should it be the case, I shall make it my business to see that you return safely and comfortably. So do not be anxious, good people, I have Bastel's welfare in view, and I do not think you will ever repent having trusted your boy to our care."

"Very well, so be it then," exclaimed Master Severin, "I will say nothing more against it; nevertheless, I stick to what I have always said, 'Every man in his place,' and wild flowers belong to the woods. But I see Bastel wishes it, and you, sir, mean it so kindly, therefore it shall be so: take him with you, and let him try how he likes the great wide world. If the worst come to the worst, he has always one sure refuge,—his old home and his parents' hearts."

So it was decided that Bastel should leave his native woods and mountains, and be launched on the broad stream of public life.

Herr Brockmann did not wish to delay his departure, so the hour of separation soon arrived. Some tears were shed, but as they had both agreed to Bastel's determination, his parents restrained their feelings as much as possible, for they said to themselves, "It is for his good."

The next night Bastel slept for the first time in his life under a strange roof, and in as soft and luxurious a bed as he had never even seen before. So the wild flower was transplanted from its native woodland soil to the cultivated gardens of civilization. The future will show how it throve.