Stick to the raft

HANS IN HIS NEW SUIT.

The invalid smiled kindly on the boy. "I'm glad I help you, my dear," she replied; "it's pleasant for a sick woman to know she is some use in God's world. Yes, Hans, even I have my work to do, or my Master would call me hence. Perhaps it is to cheer and strengthen you on in your pilgrimage. But I will not sermonise to-day, but wish that you may enjoy yourself, and remember you can do so and yet stick to the Raft."

Hans reached the railway-station in good time, and before the train started some hundred and fifty young people, and children, with a sprinkling of old folks, were gathered on the platform. Among the number were Paul Ebhardt and Robert Klein. Hans had not spoken to the former since their quarrel by the river-side, and the latter had only addressed him once, and then it was to say, "How could you attack Paul? He hates you now, and will not forgive you in a hurry."

Naumburg is pleasantly situated in the valley of the Saale; it lies in the midst of vine-covered hills: for this is one of the most northerly places in Europe where the vine is cultivated, though the wine it produces is little better than vinegar. An old wall runs round part of the town, which contains some fine streets and handsome public buildings. Just without the wall is a meadow in which the Friedens Hügel, or Hill of Peace, stands, where Procopius pitched his camp, and where the children flocked to entreat him to spare their beloved city.

The fête was unusually well attended. There were sports of all kinds which lasted through the day and into which the young people entered heartily, while their parents sat under the trees and looked on.

Hans enjoyed the fun intensely. It was quite a new scene for this forest boy. He came across Paul and Robert several times, but they seemed quite as anxious as he was to avoid any intercourse; indeed, only Robert returned the nod which Hans gave when he recognised them on the platform. Nor were refreshments forgotten; various places were established in different parts of the meadow where a good supper could be had, and cherries abounded. It seemed as if all the old women in Naumburg had turned out, so many were there, with baskets full of cherries, from which they filled plates and offered them for sale at the rate of an English halfpenny per plate.

Hans had money given to him by his master for refreshment, and he very soon settled what he should eat. There was an old man who had taken up his position in a quiet corner, just within the wooden paling that ran on one side of the meadow; he sold hot sausages, and to him the lad repaired when he felt hungry.

The old man was bent with age, but looked shrewd and quite competent to execute the work he had undertaken. He had a strange sort of cooking-stove; he put twelve bricks side by side, on to a wooden table, and made a fire on them, so that the gridiron could stand on the hot embers and thus keep the sausages simmering; while some rolls and half-a-dozen plates were ranged round the bricks to be in readiness for customers.

Hans entered into conversation with him, for it so happened no other customer was waiting to be served. Thus he learnt that the old man earned his living by going about the country selling sausages.

"It's a hard life, young master," he said, "and sometimes I long for a room where I may end my days, but the money doesn't come in fast enough for that. I can just manage to get a living, and that's all. But I thank my God for His great mercy to me. If I grow downhearted, I think of my dear Jesus, who said, 'Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man hath not where to lay his head,' and that comforts me."

"You stick to the Raft, I can see," answered Hans, and then he explained what he meant by these words.

Afterwards they chatted about the different fêtes the old man had in prospect, and the latter said he expected to be at the Schutzen Fest, and that he went to it every year because he always did a brisk trade after the match was over.

"The exercise seems to give them all an appetite," he added; "and even those who don't take any part in the shooting, but only look on, get very hungry. Sometimes I stay at Kösen for several days."

On hearing this, Hans told his new friend his name, where he lived, what a good master he had, and that he was practising at the target every day, for he meant to try and win the Burgomaster's prize.

"I shall be sure to find you out at the festival," continued the boy, "and I will recommend all the people I know to buy sausages of you, for I've taken a great liking to you."

"So have I to you," replied the old man, shaking the hand that Richter held out to him. "Good-bye."

Just as Hans was saying the last words, Robert and his friend came up.

"Has that fellow been eating sausages?" asked Paul, pointing to Hans, and addressing the old man.

"Yes; and a nice, civil-spoken young lad he is."

"Smooth-tongued enough, I dare say," sneered Paul. "Give me three sausages, and my friend wants three."

The old man was so accustomed to hear rough words that he made no reply, but busied himself in preparing the sausages, while the boys sat down and watched him.

"Robert, I've a splendid idea just come into my head—how odd that I never thought of it before! I see how we can pay Hans off," said Paul. "I've been worrying and worrying to no purpose, but now I've got it, and no mistake. When the fireworks are let off, in the darkness we may thrust a squib which is fired into his hand, and that'll give him such a dose that he won't be able to shoot at the festival."

"But it will hurt him," answered Robert; "and though I want the prize, I should be ashamed to be such a coward as to injure another to gain my own end. Richter has as good a right to try and win as I have. No, no, Paul; I'm not quite such a bad fellow as that."

"I've no patience with you!" exclaimed Paul, angrily. "You may go your own way, and lose the prize. Here come the sausages; let us eat them while they are hot."

The old man had not been too much engrossed with his cooking to listen to what Paul and Robert said. He noted every word that passed, and resolved to look out for Hans and warn him to be careful not to go near any boys who had squibs, and also to tell him of the conversation he had overheard. But the customers came so fast that he was too full of business to carry out his kind intention, for the shades of evening were falling before the last one was served, and then the fireworks began, and the old man dared not venture into the crowd which had gathered at the lower end of the meadow.

When Paul found Robert so averse to his plan of revenge, he determined to part company with him, and carry out his scheme alone. So he made the excuse of wishing to see some particular friends, and promised to meet him at the station when the fireworks were over. He had been so accustomed all his life to do just what pleased him best, without heeding if it were right or wrong, that he gloried in the cleverness of his plot, only regretting that he had mentioned it to Robert.

There was a great concourse of people round the ring from whence the rockets, wheels, and other pretty devices were let off. And at the same time, a few boys began letting off squibs, though it had been strictly forbidden by the authorities.

Hans was standing at the edge of the crowd lost in wonder, for he had never seen such a display before, when he felt something thrust into his left hand which exploded almost instantaneously, but in the explosion, he was severely burnt. Just at this moment came the grand finale, which closed the evening's entertainment. And the shouting and clapping were so noisy that the report of the squib was not noticed, and it fortunately harmed no one else.

In the first few moments, Hans was bewildered, and scarcely realised what had happened; he was only conscious of sharp pain in his hand. The crowd dispersed quickly, and he knew the train would start almost immediately, so he wrapped it in his handkerchief, and, trying to bear the pain as he best could, walked to the station and jumped into the first carriage.

His condition excited the attention of his fellow-travellers, and induced many questions. Every one had some particular remedy to recommend, but poor Hans paid little heed to their words. He sat still, holding his wounded left hand with his right, and suffering too much to be able to enter into conversation.

At last he reached home, and found his master standing outside the toll-house awaiting his arrival.

"I've had an accident, sir," he said, trying to speak cheerfully. "I'm afraid my hand is very much burnt." And then he remembered no more until he returned to consciousness, and found himself stretched on his bed, for thither Karl Schmidt had carried him in a fainting condition.

"You'll soon be better, my boy. You're a brave fellow to come home alone after such an accident," said his master. "I expect the pain was too much for you to bear. You have a nasty burn. How did it happen? But perhaps you had better not tell me until to-morrow, you look so pale. I've wrapped your hand in cotton wool; let it stay on until you see the doctor, and be very careful that the air does not get to it."

"I feel quite comfortable now, sir, and able to talk. I wish I could tell you how it happened. I only know I felt as if some one forced a squib into my hand which went off directly."

"It must have been a pure accident. I don't think any boy would be so cruel as to harm another for amusement," remarked Karl. "The authorities ought to punish the rascals who dare to let off squibs. I know this is not the first time some one has been hurt. You must show your hand to the doctor early to-morrow morning. I am afraid you will have no more shooting for many days to come."

"Won't it soon be well, sir? I did not think that I should lose the chance of the prize because of this burn."

"And don't think of it now; but go to sleep, and try to forget you have been hurt."

Next day Hans paid an early visit to the doctor, who pronounced that the hand must be put into a sling, it was so much injured, and would require care for some weeks.

The boy went slowly home, feeling thoroughly depressed and ill. The world and his prospects looked very gloomy; he could not work—for how could he push rafts over the weir with one hand? And perhaps his master would dismiss him if he did not get well quickly; and last, though not least, there was the shooting match coming on, and he would be unable to join in it, and that was a sore disappointment. In the short walk from the doctor's house to the toll-master's cottage, Hans managed to conjure up all kinds of dismal things: so is it that we often make troubles before they really exist.

Karl was in his mother's room when Richter appeared in sight. He called him from the window to come up, for Frau Schmidt was anxious to hear the doctor's opinion.

"You look as if you had all the cares of the world on your shoulders, Hans," he exclaimed, when he saw the boy's face. "What's the matter?"

Hans tried to speak in a clear, unconcerned tone, but his voice failed, and he burst into tears instead.

"Come, don't be so downhearted," said Karl. "It will only be a matter of a few weeks; you will not learn idle habits in that time. In fact, you can work all the same; we shall only change places: you must take the tolls, and will look after the rafts. Why, I used to do both in former days—levy the duty on the raft, and afterwards help it over the weir!"

"Then you will keep me on, sir, even if my hand is a long time getting well?"

"Certainly. This explains why you look so dismal; you thought I should turn you away because you could not work. Why, Hans, I hoped you knew me better."

"His faith in you has only failed for the moment," said Frau Schmidt. "Hans feels ill, and his depression of body dims his trust in you. My dear boy, it is an old, old fault—this want of faith; would that it did not run through our lives. In your walk home from the doctor's, you have lost the Raft, and in losing the Raft you have conjured up doubts and difficulties which have no foundation."

"Mother, mother, you are in a higher world than we are," replied Karl. "Poor Hans has not reached it, and I am sure I have not; nevertheless, would that we were as patient and trustful as you are. You see the boy has another cause of disappointment which you have not thought of, perhaps: he will be unable to shoot at the match."

"And I lose my lessons from you, sir," added Hans, in a doleful voice; "and I did so enjoy having them every evening."

"I hope they will be renewed some day. My dear boy, I am a stern teacher when I bid you rouse up to see your mercies, and be thankful for your many blessings," answered Frau Schmidt. "Are you only going to stick to the Raft when the sun is high and the water smooth? You must take all your disappointments in life as part of the education which is to fit you for a higher and better world."

Hans smiled through his tears as the invalid spoke. He felt ashamed of murmuring over his temporary sickness when he contrasted it with her days, weeks, months, nay, years of continuous suffering. He had only time to say, "Thank you, dear frau, for your advice," for his master exclaimed, "There are a couple of rafts in sight. We had better go down, Hans; the men are pushing along as if they are in a hurry to pay toll and pass over the weir. Can you take the money?"

"Oh yes, sir, quite well," replied the lad, hurrying away after his master.

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CHAPTER VII.

THE SECRET.

AFTER Paul had shaken off his companion, he accomplished, as we know, his cruel purpose, and according to appointment joined Robert after the fireworks were over. He was careful not to run across Hans, as he did not wish to tell his friend what he had done until the following morning; for Paul was sure that he was revenged on Hans when he heard the exclamation of intense pain which escaped him before he had time to glide away.

"Let me see you first thing to-morrow," said Paul, when he parted from Robert, just after they had passed the bridge. "I've some work to finish off, but shall be ready by ten o'clock; I want to tell you something."

"Tell me now."

"I'm afraid there are too many people about. It's a great secret. To-morrow is time enough. Good night."

Robert wondered for a few moments what secret Paul could have to tell him, but he forgot all about it when he reached home, for he had to give an account of his day spent at Naumburg to his mother and sisters, who had not ventured to the fête.

The next morning Robert was taking his coffee in the kitchen with the rest of the family, except his father, who came in before the meal was ended.

"I've been talking to Karl Schmidt," he said, "and didn't know it was so late. Did you hear of an accident which happened to young Hans last night?" he asked his son.

"No, father."

"He managed to get his left hand badly burnt by a squib; and what is very odd about the accident is that he felt the squib was pushed into his hand, and then it exploded."

Robert turned pale, and red. No one was observing him, for all eyes were fixed on the miller, so he had time to regain his self-possession; and right glad was he that a customer came to see his father on business, and he was able to make his escape.

Robert was not a bad boy at heart, nor would he ever have injured another in the cruel manner in which Paul had injured Hans. He was appalled at what he had heard, and all that was noble in his character rose up for the moment in judgment against Paul. He walked quickly away from the mill, and took the back road into the town, nor did he slacken his pace until he reached Herr Ebhardt's house. He found his friend stitching away diligently in a little parlour at the back of his father's shop.

"You're early, old fellow," said Paul, scarcely looking up from his work, "but I've nearly done, and then we'll go as far as the Hümmel-reich, for I've to take this coat home to a customer who lives on the way."

"All right; I'll wait outside until you're ready," replied Robert.

As he passed into the street again, he found himself face to face with Hans, who was going to the doctor. He looked pale and ill, very different to the bright lad of the previous day.

Robert could not help stopping him, and asking, in a concerned tone, "Is your hand very bad? I heard from my father that you met with an accident last night."

"It's very bad," answered Hans, "dreadfully burnt. Good-bye, I'm going to see the doctor."

Robert was thoroughly unhinged; though he was really innocent, he felt in some degree guilty, and he was glad when Paul joined him, for he was most anxious to hear his secret, and was sure that it had some connection with the accident that had befallen Hans.

"Now for your secret," he said to Paul.

"Wait a bit; let's get up the Hümmel-reich."

"It will take us a good half-hour to walk there, and I want to hear what you've got to say," urged Robert, impatiently.

"Gently, old fellow; we've plenty of time before us. It's a jolly morning for an outing. Let us get rid of the coat, and then we'll enjoy ourselves. You will be right glad to hear what I've got to tell you."

"I know what it is before you speak, and I call it a wicked shame of you to hurt a fellow as you've hurt Hans. I've a great mind to tell of you, that I have!" burst out Robert.

The boys were out of the village and walking through a field when he spoke thus angrily.

"What do you mean?" asked Paul, scowling at his companion.

"Why, I mean that I've a great mind to tell every one in Kösen that it was you who put the squib into the hand of poor Hans, and that you did it out of revenge."

There was something so resolute in Robert's face, and so different from the idle, careless expression it usually wore, that Paul felt a little afraid, for he was a coward at heart.

"Oh, Robert, how can you be so unkind! It was all for you I did it; and now you find fault with me." And his voice trembled as if he were about to cry.

"It wasn't all for me, and you know that, Paul; you hate Hans, and you made up your mind to pay him off after he tripped you up. But you've gone too far this time, and what's more, I think you've put me in such a corner that I can't shoot for the prize this year."

"Not shoot, Robert!" answered Paul, standing still in his astonishment. "You don't mean what you say. Why, I've made it an easy matter for you. Now, old fellow, shake hands, and tell me you're glad I got rid of your rival thus. He would certainly have come off conqueror, so you must thank me, for I'm a true friend to you. And, really, if I hadn't been so fond of you, I shouldn't have interfered, but suffered Hans to win."

"I'm not so sure he would have won; and I declare I'd rather he had beaten than see him look so ill."

"When did you see him?"

"A few minutes ago; he was on his way to the doctor's."

"Then he is really hurt?"

"How can you ask me that question? You know he is, Paul. It was nothing but revenge that made you push the squib into his hand; I see it in your face, you look so spiteful."

"What's come to you to-day, Robert? I tell you what it is, you may try me too far. You're my friend, and I'm your friend, but I can't stand being preached at. Now, let's forget this little difference; what is done can't be undone. And, remember, if I have acted unkindly to Hans, it was all for you, so don't blame me. I'll just run in, and leave this coat at yonder house, and then we'll go on to the Hümmel-reich, as we are so near, and be jolly for the rest of the way."

This pretty spot derives its name from the great beauty of its situation. It merely consists of a little hotel built on a flat hill-top, which commands the valley of the Saale at a point where the river makes a bend in the shape of a horse-shoe. On the opposite side are the ruins of two old castles, the Rudolsburg and the Saalech; while, as far as the eye can reach, little villages with their quaint old churches lie nestling among the trees of this highly-cultivated valley, and thus add to the picturesqueness of the scene.

Robert was not convinced, but he nevertheless accompanied Paul on to the Hümmel-reich, which was not thronged with visitors so early in the day. The friends spent a couple of hours pleasantly, for there was a target so that Robert was able to practise for the festival, and Paul stood by and praised him. They only left off in time to reach home by one o'clock, and, as Paul was going out with his father, they parted at Herr Ebhardt's door, and made no plans for the evening.

"Ain't we just as good friends as ever?" Paul asked Robert, as they entered the village.

"Oh yes," he replied.

But though Robert answered Paul in the affirmative, he was oppressed and out of spirit, and could not resist taking a stroll in the direction of the toll-house after dinner; he had no definite object in view beyond a sort of restless feeling to see Hans.

The latter was sitting outside the door with a book on his knee, looking very pale, and with his left arm in a sling. He was so absorbed in the contents of his volume that he started when Robert addressed him in these words: "I'm so sorry you're hurt. I am alone this afternoon, and thought I would come and see if I could do anything for you."

Hans was very much surprised, but Robert seemed so thoroughly in earnest that he answered: "Thank you; no one can help me bear the pain, but it is very kind of you to think of me. My master does not mind my being idle until I am better. It would be much worse if I were thrown out of my place."

"What are you reading out of? You seem to have got a queer old book there," asked Robert, by way of continuing the conversation.

"Queer outside, perhaps," replied Hans, "but the inside is all gold."

"Let me see it."

Hans opened his father's old Bible.

"Why, it's a Bible!" exclaimed Robert, in a tone of disappointment. "I thought it was something very particular."

"So it is," answered Hans; "if you will sit down, I will read you a few verses that are worth more than thousands of sovereigns."

At another time Robert would have laughed, and jeered, and perhaps run away, but he was softened towards Hans, and wanted to show him some attention, so he quietly sat down on the door-step by his side.

Hans felt sure his master would not be angry at his speaking to Robert when he told him that he had an opportunity of bidding him stick to the Raft; so he turned over the pages of his Bible to find a suitable passage to read, and in that moment he asked God to help him for Christ's sake to say something to Robert that would make him think.

"I declare it is difficult to settle what to read to you, there are so many beautiful things in this book; but, of course, you know your Bible?" said Hans.

"I can't say I'm much up to it," replied his companion.

"But you read it, or hear it read, every day, don't you?"

"No, I don't; please go on where you were reading when I came up."

"I had just got to these words: 'A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.' I will read the chapter through."

"You read splendidly," said Robert, at its conclusion. "Where did you learn?"

"In our village, and in the forest. My mother was a very good scholar, and I'm so fond of learning. My master gives me lessons every evening. Are not those grand words, 'A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another'? Oddly enough, you were in my thoughts when I first read them—I mean just before you spoke to me."

"I! How?"

"I will tell you. I have been practising hard at the target, and meant to try for the Burgomaster's prize, which you have won for the last two years. My master said that you had no rival to fear in Kösen, and that the Burgomaster wished to find another who would compete with you; for though many boys usually entered their names on the list, it was only for the pleasure of being mixed up with the fête, but with no chance of success. My master found I had a steady hand and a correct eye, so he lent me his bow and arrows, and I have been practising regularly with him every evening; and I think I had a fair chance of winning the prize. But this morning the doctor said that I should be unable to use my hand for at least three weeks, and, as you know, the Schutzen Fest comes off in eight days. I was very jealous of you this morning, and inclined to murmur and rebel because I could not use my hand. But, thank God, the feeling is passing away, for it came into my mind that if I were to encourage it, I should break Christ's new commandment, and shut out love, for love and jealousy cannot live together; and, Robert, I had rather stick to the Raft than win the prize."

Robert looked his astonishment, and Hans explained his meaning, and added: "Christ gave Himself for us—that was His love; and He asks us in return to give ourselves to Him. Will you give yourself to Him? I shall bear my pain and disappointment without murmuring if any words which I have read out of God's book make you think about Him, for I shall remember that you would not have spoken to me if you had not been sorry for my accident, and that it was because you knew I was in pain that you took the trouble to come here to see me."

Robert could scarcely bear these words, they made him inclined to tell Hans the whole truth, but the fear of Paul kept him silent, and right glad was he to see Karl Schmidt walking towards them.

"Your master is coming," he said; "I had better be off. I know he will not care to see me here, so good-bye. I dare say I shall come again soon to hear how you are getting on."

And Robert walked away in a more thoughtful mood than usual. There was something so manly and noble about Hans. He was so different to his chosen friend Paul. He felt a few pricks of conscience too when he recalled the words which Hans had spoken about the Burgomaster's prize.

"I wish Paul hadn't interfered," he muttered, "that I do, with all my heart. I would rather have been beaten fairly than win and carry about the secret knowledge that if it hadn't been for Ebhardt's cowardly behaviour to Hans, we should have tried our luck together. And to think of his saying that he didn't mind the pain if it made me stick to the Raft; that beat's all."

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CHAPTER VIII.

THE SCHUTZEN FEST.

ROBERT could not shake off the impression which Hans had produced upon him, and he did not awake in a very good humour with himself next morning. When he met Paul, he entered at once upon the subject which engrossed his thoughts, and ended by saying: "I've almost made up my mind not to shoot. I feel as if I were a great rascal to stand up before the people of Kösen and carry away the prize, knowing what I do."

Paul was very angry. "I tell you what it is, Robert," he replied, "I've had enough of this sort of thing. If you don't shoot, I declare I'll go to Hans and tell him you pushed the squib into his hand because you didn't want him to shoot against you."

"You dare not, Paul. But if you were to be so wicked, it would be easy for me to tell the truth about you."

"One against the other, my boy. My word is as good as yours; we are known as close friends in Kösen. But now, Robert, don't be stupid; I shall be all right if you will just shoot for the prize, and win it, and that will make an end of the matter. And to show you that I am sorry I have vexed you, I promise I will never tease Hans again. Don't let us fall out; we are old chums, and Kösen boys, and it wouldn't sound well if we were to give evidence against one another; nor would your parents, or even mine, care to have this affair made a matter of talk in the town."

Robert was afraid to refuse Paul's terms; and so he tried to forget that Hans had been ill-used, nor did he call on him again before the Schutzen Fest. Paul felt secretly thankful he had constrained his friend to keep silence; for, bad as he was, he did not relish the affair being sifted, so certain was he that if the truth were made public, even he would feel uncomfortable and cowed by the black looks which he knew his companions and acquaintances would cast upon him. His fear was for himself; he was not ashamed of his sin.

The market-place in Kösen consists of a clump of green trees which stand in the high street, and this was the meeting-place of those who competed for the Burgomaster's prize.

Kösen put on its gayest appearance for the fête; the day was exquisite, the sky blue, and the air still; flags were flying in all directions, and parents and children appeared in their holiday attire.

The shooting began at four o'clock. Long before that hour, there was quite a crowd in the market-place waiting for the band to come and strike up the national air, which was a signal for the twenty boys who competed for the prize to form themselves into a double column. Each of the boys carried his own bow and arrows and wore a scarlet cap wreathed with oak-leaves.

The marker led the way, dressed in a scarlet tunic, white trousers, and a cap with a plume of many colours; the band came next, then banners carried by boys, and lastly the twenty competitors for the prize. In this order they proceeded to the Burgomaster's house. He was awaiting their arrival arrayed in his robes of office; and now he took the lead, and marched away in the direction of the bridge. Instead of crossing it, the procession turned off to the right, passed the mill, and onwards until it reached the Katze—a pretty, elevated spot covered with green trees, with the Saale running a few feet below. Here many chairs and tables were ranged; and there were temporary tents erected where refreshments could be had, for most of the company remained to supper after the shooting was over.

Every one of the twenty competitors shot twelve arrows, and if the bull's-eye were hit, the marker signified the fact by dancing in front of the target, flag in hand, while at the same moment a gun fired.

Robert was quite himself; the excitement of the scene made him forget everything but his own enjoyment and importance. He did not meet Hans on the way, so he had nothing to damp his pleasure.

Paul was as close to his friend as the rules permitted, for only those who competed for the prize were allowed to enter the ring.

The boys shot better than on the previous year, but Robert shot the best, and so to him the prize was awarded. He had to come before the Burgomaster, who complimented him on his skill, and crowned him with a wreath of laurel-leaves. Afterwards, he presented a drinking-cup to him mounted in silver.

ROBERT WINS THE PRIZE.

When this ceremony was concluded, the Burgomaster returned home, and Robert became the hero of the evening. At ten o'clock the band left the orchestra in order to conduct him home, and a large concourse of young friends and acquaintances accompanied him, lighting the way with their many coloured lanterns, and shouting, "Hoch, Hoch" (Hurrah).

The music ceased when the mill was reached, and amid renewed shouts Robert entered his father's house, and the rest of his friends dispersed to their several homes, save Paul, for Robert could not spare him. He wanted to chat over the events of the day with his friend, and to express his surprise at not seeing Hans Richter.

But even Paul bade him "Good night" as soon as he found there was company in the kitchen, for he did not care to face kind Pastor Hahn who was chatting with the miller and his wife. When he caught sight of him through the open door, he whispered to Robert: "Good night, old fellow. I shall slip off, for I don't care to have a lecture from the minister to-night. Come to me in the morning."

"All hail to the conqueror!" exclaimed the pastor, as Robert entered the kitchen.

"You shot well, my boy," said his father, "better than usual, I thought."

"And you had an easy victory," added Pastor Hahn; "you had no competitor. I think you would have found your match if Hans Richter had been able to try his skill. Poor fellow! I have been so sorry for him; he set his heart on shooting for the prize. At the same time, I must say I never saw a lad take his disappointment so well. Ah, Robert, would that you had the same strong principle to guide you, that Hans has. It is such a mystery how that lad met with his accident. I confess from his account it seems to me as if some one had thrust the squib into his hand out of sheer mischief, or even revenge, and—"

"Hold up your cup, Robert," called out the miller; "you will drop your prize. My boy, you are tired out, you look deadly pale. Now your colour is returning: I thought you were going to faint. Get your supper, and go to bed at once."

"I've had enough to eat, thank you, father," answered Robert, "but I will go to bed, for I am very tired, so good night all. Good night, Pastor Hahn."

"Good night," said the pastor, taking the hand Robert stretched out to him, and holding it in his own. "You have won an earthly prize to-day; how I wish you would be as eager in striving to win a heavenly prize. God has given us many prizes, but the greatest and best is His Son, and I fear you despise this prize. The day will come when your Father in heaven will ask why you have neglected your Saviour; what answer will you give then?"

"The lad is too tired to think to-night, good pastor," said the miller; "don't damp his pleasure by a long sermon."

"It seems to me as if it were never the right moment to speak to you of those things which make for our everlasting salvation," answered the pastor, sadly: for he was rarely permitted to enlarge on the theme he loved so well within those walls. And yet he did not cease his visits, hoping that the seed he dropped from time to time would, by the Spirit's blessing, bear fruit at last.

Robert went to bed, but not to sleep. Now that the excitement was over, and Paul away from him, he began to be uncomfortable again. He would willingly have relinquished his prize if he could have undone the cruel injury which Paul had inflicted on Hans. He tossed about his bed, wondering why he could not sleep, for he never remembered lying awake for five minutes before. But turn as he might, he got no real rest, for if he fell asleep, he dreamed of terrible things and was thankful to awake and find them unreal. He was very glad to see morning dawn, and watch the sun rise, for he did not feel quite so miserable as during the long hours of the night.

Hans was not present at the Schutzen Fest, for a very good reason. He and his master had fully determined to go, but at the last moment several rafts came along, and the men were anxious to pay duty on their wood and start forward at once. As soon as they had been attended to, another delay came: a friend from Naumburg called to see Karl; so, as his master was engaged, Hans went quietly upstairs to chat with Frau Schmidt.

"Not gone!" she said, when he entered her room. "Surely, dear boy, you are not smarting so much under your disappointment that you cannot see another win!"

"No, dear frau, but we've been so busy, and now my master's engaged, and I feel very tired. There is really no other reason why I do not go. I could see Robert win, and not be one bit jealous of him. I have had a battle to fight, nevertheless," he added, smiling, "so don't think me better than I am. It's sticking to the Raft, dear frau, that enabled me to think quietly of Robert's currying off a prize that might have been mine. I seem to understand better since this struggle has passed away how easily those who have no Raft to cling to may commit any sin to gain their ends."

"You are quite right, Hans; had you encouraged the feeling of jealousy, it might have grown so fast that it would have mastered you at last. Christ's new commandment carried out into daily life is the best cure for the indulgence of sin."

"There is an old man coming to the fest to-day," Hans said, after a pause, "in whom I am much interested; he is such a fine, manly Christian, and yet so poor. I cannot forget my talk with him, though I have never told you about it." And Hans gave Frau Schmidt an account of his conversation with the old man who sold sausages, adding, "I must try and find him out to-morrow; he told me he intended to spend a few days at Kösen."

"There is a sort of freemasonry between Christians," answered Frau Schmidt. "I hope you may find him; I should like to see him if I am tolerably well."

Hans little thought when he spoke about the old man how much he was engrossing the thoughts of the latter. Among the spectators who watched the shooting was Franz Nieper, the seller of sausages. He arranged his apparatus some little distance from the ring, but in a good position for trade. And when the attention of all was directed to the competitors for the Burgomaster's prize, he also joined the crowd and watched the progress of the match. He recognised one face inside the ring, and one just without. He would have known Robert and Paul anywhere; their countenances were impressed on his memory. He looked about in vain for another face he expected to see—a pleasant one, which had smiled on him, and given him cheery words. But though he looked again and again at the twenty boys wearing scarlet caps, he could not find it. At length he ventured to make a remark to a pretty, bright-looking girl who stood beside him looking on:

"I thought the lad who lives with the toll-master was going to try his luck," he said.

"So he was," replied the maiden, who happened to be one of the miller's daughters, "but he has had an accident and burnt his hand."

"How did it happen?"

"He was at the cherry feast at Naumburg, and some of the rough boys of the town began letting off squibs, though it is forbidden by the authorities. And in some way, I don't know how, Hans Richter got hold of a squib, which went off in his hand and hurt him dreadfully. He's getting better now, but is not well enough to shoot."

"Who's likely to win the day?"

"I don't know for certain, but I think my brother, for he's the best shot in Kösen. They do say that if Hans had been able to shoot, Robert might have lost the prize."

"Where is your brother Robert?"

"There, standing close to that large tree," replied the girl, pointing to one of the faces Franz had recognised.

"And the boy talking to him, who is he?"

"That's Paul Ebhardt, his greatest friend."

"Where do you live?"

"At the mill."

"And where does Paul Ebhardt live?"

"In the town; his father is a master tailor. But why do you ask so many questions, do you want any help? You look so very old, and seem very poor."

"Yes, young girl, I am both old and poor," replied Franz, "but I don't require help, for my Master never forgets me, and He can send me all the help I want. Thank you for answering my questions." And the old man turned away.

He walked slowly back to his wooden table, and attended to his fire, muttering, "Poor lad, poor lad, I'm so sorry for him! I wish I'd left my sausages and found him. Well, well, it can't be helped now, but old Franz must try and set wrong right."

He seated himself on his wooden stool, nor did he rise when a great noise of shouting announced that the prize was won. He made no comment when he heard Robert Klein was the victor, he merely stamped on the ground impatiently, and then he seemed to remember that such a feeling was wrong, for he said aloud: "That won't do, Franz; that's not the way to set wrong right; be a Christian, and just do the Master's work, and copy Him. Did He ever grow impatient?"

When customers came, the old man was calm as before, and served them with the care he generally exercised. But all the time, he was thinking, and the results of his meditations were comprised in these words, which fell from his lips before he lay down upon a heap of straw in an out-house: "To-morrow morning, the first thing you do, Franz, must be to go to the toll-house and ask to see the toll-master."

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CHAPTER IX.

WRONG SET RIGHT.

THE next morning, Hans started off early to make some purchases in the town, and find out if the old man who sold sausages had arrived on the previous day. He had been absent more than an hour when Franz Nieper reached the toll-keeper's house.

"Is Hans Richter at home?" he asked of Karl Schmidt, who was sitting in the parlour making up his books.

"No; he is gone over to the town. I expect him back every minute; in fact, I can't think why he is so long away. Do you want him?"

"I presume my business is with you as much as with him," answered Franz. "Did he tell you he bought sausages at Naumburg of an old man?"

"Yes, to be sure he did; and one of his errands this morning is to try and find him, for he expects he came to Kösen yesterday."

"I am that old man. I want to greet the lad once more; and I have something important to say to him, and to you too, for I suppose I'm speaking to the toll-master."

"Yes, I am Karl Schmidt, but I do not quite understand what you have of importance to say to me, seeing we are strangers to one another, and Hans only knows you because he bought your sausages and had a chat with you while he ate them."

"I wish to set wrong right, master," replied old Franz, emphatically. "The lad has been cruelly wronged."

"How?" asked Karl, feeling and looking sorely puzzled.

"It's a long story, master, and I am an old man. I can only tell it my own way. Will you listen to all I have to say?"

"Certainly I will. Sit down, my friend, for you look tired, and don't hurry yourself."

Old Franz took the chair that Karl offered him, and began his story by speaking first of his interview with Hans, and how much he liked the boy. Then he repeated the substance of the conversation which passed between Paul and Robert, and alluded to his own determination of trying to find Hans out in order to tell him to take care of himself; and how his customers came and prevented him from carrying out his intention. He further spoke of missing Hans among the twenty boys with scarlet caps on the previous day, and that he made inquiry of the miller's daughter, and learnt the sad truth.

"It needs no words of mine to tell you," he said, in conclusion, "how that lad met with his accident, and I really think the boy, or boys, who had to do with it ought to be punished, or some one else will be served in like manner."

Karl was extremely angry. "I thought Paul was a very bad fellow," he replied, "but scarcely so bad as this proves him to be. I wonder if Robert was persuaded to be a party to the cowardly action, or whether he maintained his refusal. At any rate, he knew when Hans was hurt that it was no accident, but foul play, and certainly he should have refused to accept the Burgomaster's prize; an honourable boy would have quietly withdrawn from the contest. I scarcely know how to move in this matter."

"Try and set the wrong right, master," reiterated old Franz. "The prize is given now, so I suppose it can't be taken away, but the miller's son has not won it fairly."

"No; for I am almost sure Hans would have come off conqueror had he been able to take his place. The grave question to be settled now is, how to prove that Paul deliberately thrust the squib into Richter's hand. But here comes Hans; he is the one who has the best right to decide what steps we should take. Let us consult with him."

"I'm so glad to see you once more!" exclaimed the boy, shaking old Franz warmly by the hand. "I've just come from the town, and I looked about for you everywhere. I was sorry to miss seeing you yesterday. I have had an accident, and that prevented me from shooting, but I'm getting better, and I hope very soon to be able to use my hand again and do all my work."

"Your old friend came to see me about your so-called accident," said Karl. "I think we have found out how it happened."

"Yes, young lad. I ought to have saved you from it, but my customers came so quickly I could not leave them to find you. I overheard the tailor's son propose to the miller's boy that you should have a fired squib pushed into your hand. I must give credit where credit is due, and say that the miller's boy was up in arms when his friend proposed this; but one or both of them did the deed, or your hand would not have been hurt."

"Paul fired the squib, and thrust it into my hand," answered Hans, quietly; "Robert had nothing to do with it."

"How do you know this?" asked Karl.

"Because I left Robert half-an-hour ago, and he gave me a full account of the whole thing."

"Robert told you all about it!" exclaimed Karl. "I wonder he was not too ashamed for that."

"It is because he is so repentant, master; and he has promised me to give up Paul's friendship and turn over a new leaf."

"He has promised that a hundred times before," said Karl.

"But I believe he is in earnest this time. I am sure if he will keep away from Paul's influence, he will be a better fellow."

"Still, I fear it is all talk with him; he is not to be trusted."

"Let us try him once more, master."

"But what did he say to you?"

"I should like to tell you, if you will agree not to let his confession go further until we have decided what it is best to do," said Hans, looking first at Karl Schmidt, and then at the old man.

"Certainly, I will keep my counsel," replied his master.

"And so will I; indeed, I only want to set wrong right, my boy. And if you, who are injured, are satisfied, I ought to be," remarked Franz.

"I crossed the river in your boat, master," said Hans, smiling at the old man, "and went directly to the mill to order the flour. As I came out, I met Robert, so I stopped and asked him how he enjoyed himself yesterday, and I congratulated him on winning the prize, adding, 'I was not miserable about it, for I lived down my first feelings of vexation; they were nearly gone when you came to see me the day after my accident, so I was able to be glad that the sun shone, and it was so still and bright.' To my astonishment, Robert burst out:

"'Oh, Hans, don't talk to me like that; I'm the most unhappy fellow living.'

"'What's the matter?' I asked. And seeing that he looked ready to cry, I said, 'Come along with me and have a talk.'

"So we walked by the side of the river until we found a nook where we could sit down and be quite out of the way of any one who chanced to pass by.

"'Now, tell me why you are unhappy,' I asked, 'for I must confess you look wretched and ill; let me be your friend.'

"When I said this, he gave a great sob, and then he began to laugh, and then he cried, and it was some time before I could get him to speak out. At last he told me what it was that weighed on his mind. He said that Paul Ebhardt had disliked me from the very first time he saw me, but since the day we had quarrelled by the river-side, he had hated me, and watched for an opportunity of paying me off. Then he spoke of the conversation that my old friend there overheard, and he assured me he had no idea Paul would carry out his cruel purpose.

"'I give you my word,' he continued, 'that, careless as I am, I should never have been such a dastard as to hurt you. I have been wretched ever since I heard that you were injured. I went home miserable after you had spoken to me about sticking to the Raft, and had read to me out of the Bible. The next morning I fell out with Paul about you, but we made it up again, and I tried to forget you, because I was afraid of him. But last night I could not sleep for thinking, so I made up my mind to tell you all about it, and I want you to show that you forgive me by taking the prize I won yesterday.'

"'I am glad you have told me this, but I don't want your prize,' I answered. 'You may be happy again, Robert, for I forgive you entirely, though I scarcely know what I have to forgive; and, now, will you do me a very great favour?'

"'What is it?' he asked 'I will do anything to prove to you that I would not have had you injured; and if only you would take my prize, I should think we were quits.'

"'I don't want to be quits with you in that manner,' I replied; 'we shall be quits, and true friends, if you will "stick to the Raft," for then you will learn to love good company, and work, and study. Oh, will you come to Jesus?'

"'I wish I could, if it would make me as happy as you are, Hans,' he answered; 'but I am bound to Paul, for I am afraid of him. I hardly dare think how angry he will be with me when he learns what I have done.'

"'Avoid him for the present, or at least until I have consulted my master,' I said. 'Will you begin a new life at once by asking your father to give you work at the mill, and will you pray to God, Robert, to help you?'

"'I never prayed in my life, Hans,' he replied.

"'Then begin at once, to-day,' I urged. 'There will be no real change in you unless you change towards God. He says to you, "My son, give Me thine heart." Oh! Do not withhold it from Him.'

"We parted then. Robert went to the mill, and I made my way to the village. And all the way, I've been thinking how it will be best to act; and really, master, if you do not object, I should like to go and see Paul and try and win him over."

"Well done, my boy!" exclaimed Franz Nieper. "That's the way to set wrong right; and depend upon it, you are showing the same mercy to Paul that God shows to us. You have hit the nail on the head. It's the Raft that has done this; it is your faith and trust in your Saviour, and clinging fast to His teaching, that enables you to love your enemy."

"Yes, Hans," remarked his master, "you have found the best way of taking your revenge on Paul. But whether he will receive your advances cordially and be sorry for what he has done, is more than I can tell. At any rate, I wish you God speed on your errand. Go to him at once, my boy—that is, if you are not too tired—for it is better for you to see him before he meets Robert. But remember, if you come back and tell me that Paul has refused to hear you, and added insult to injury, I must act for you."

"I'll accompany you as far as the village," said Franz Nieper, "for I ought not to lose a day's trade."

"You must have something to eat first, and then see my mother," exclaimed Schmidt, adding, "she will like to thank you for coming here when I tell her why you paid us a visit."

So Franz Nieper remained at the toll-house, and Hans Richter went alone to the master tailor's house in search of Paul.

CHAPTER X.

THE INTERVIEW.

PAUL wondered why Robert did not come, and he was on the point of going in search of his friend when he saw Hans standing in the doorway of his father's shop. His was the last face in the world he wished to see, and to have him there boded no good. Paul would have liked to make his escape, but he could not do this very well, for Hans came up close to him and said, "I want to speak to you."

"What do you want? What have you to say to me?" he stammered out.

"A great deal. Let us go into some room where we can talk quietly."

"There's no place in this house. Father has only gone on an errand into the village. He will be back in a few minutes, and then he'll want the parlour for his work. People may come in here at any moment to give orders, so I can't say that we shall be quite alone. But I'm sure mother doesn't want us upstairs, so if you have anything to say, you must say it at once, and take the chance of being interrupted."

"Let us go into the fields, or by the river-side beyond the town. I don't mind where we go, so that I can talk to you quietly."

"I suppose you want to fight me again. No, I'm not going into the fields or anywhere with you."

"I mean to speak to you, Paul," said Hans, firmly. "And if you will not give me an opportunity of saying what I have to say to you alone, why, you must listen to it in your father's shop, and it's not my fault if any one overhears our conversation."

Paul began to quake. He felt sure that Richter had something important to communicate, for he showed it in his determined manner. But as he would not appear to be afraid, he exclaimed, in a loud, coarse voice, "I can't think what you want with me; I hate you, and you hate me, so the less we have to say to one another the better."

Hans touched his arm, and replied, "This hurt of mine was no accident; the squib was pushed into my hand deliberately. You know the name of the boy who did it, and so do I. Let me have a quiet talk with you. If you refuse me, my master will be very angry, and I fear he will tell your father. I am sure it is better for us to be friends than enemies. But if you won't hear me, and persist in treating me so rudely, I shall have to go back home, and I don't know what turn matters will take."

"Let your master come to my father and talk to him, if he likes; I don't care. If Robert has been telling lies of me, he shall be well paid off for it, that he shall! I suppose you mean me to understand that I hurt your hand?"

"Yes, you did. But oh, Paul, I really am not here to blame you, but to forgive you. Don't go on being so wicked, but do remember you must stand before God one day, and answer to Him if you persist in living in sin. Stop before it is too late, and give up your bad habits, and try and live a nobler life."

"What stuff you are talking! Just leave off preaching, and give up the name of the fellow who told you I hurt your hand. Do you know I will make you answer for accusing me falsely, for neither you nor any one else can prove that I did it! Name the fellow, I say."

"I shall not," answered Hans.

"Because you dare not. But, just to show you how wrong you are in suspecting me, I will tell you who did the deed. Robert hurt you because he was afraid you would win the prize away from him."

"Robert did not hurt me, and did not know that you intended to carry out your wicked thought; when you proposed to injure me, he refused to be a party to such a cowardly act."

"Robert has told of me," said Paul, forgetting in his passion that he betrayed the truth and confessed his guilt. "He shall smart for this, he shall rue the day that he turned tell-tale. And as for you, I detest you. I can't think of any name to call you which is bad enough to show how much I hate you. Go and tell everybody in Kösen that I hurt you for the purpose; I don't care. I only wish your hand had been blown off, or so bad that you could not use it again."

What more Paul would have added, it is hard to say. He stopped suddenly, for he saw his father. Herr Ebhardt had listened to nearly all the conversation between his son and Hans. He had entered the parlour by the back of the house, and hearing voices in the shop had opened the door softly, and thus overheard what passed. He now came forward, and asked Hans, "What is all this ado about? Tell me of what you accuse my son."

"I had much rather have spoken to Paul alone," answered Hans, respectfully. "I came to him in the spirit of love, and hoped he would have received me more kindly."

"The spirit of love!" echoed the master tailor, scornfully. "None of that cant here, please. What has my son done to you? It sounded to me very much as if he had hurt your hand on purpose. Is that what you accuse him of? Answer me at once, yes or no."

"Yes," said Hans.

"And you are guilty, Paul. I know it by the last words I heard you speak; your passion got the better of you, young gentleman. You shall be well punished for this. And you, young fellow, had better go home, and if you meet any acquaintances by the way, and ask for their pity by telling them how badly you have been treated, say to them that Ebhardt, the master tailor of Kösen, condemns his son for committing such a cowardly act as to stab you in the dark. I go in for fair play, and not foul play. Will it satisfy you to know that that boy of mine has had his reward in the shape of a punishment he will remember as long as he lives?"

"No, it will not, Herr Ebhardt," answered Hans, boldly. "I did not come here to provoke you to be hard upon your son. I came to forgive him, and I ask you to unsay what you have said. I do not wish him to be punished and, what is more, if I can help it, he shall go free."

"How can you help it?"

"Not by force, because you are stronger than either Paul or I; and you can thrash us both if you like. But will you hear me out without sneering at me?"

"Yes; speak up, lad. I don't think you are quite such a sneak as I took you for at first."

"I came here to forgive Paul, because I am a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ, and as He forgave His enemies, so I wish to forgive mine. If I forgive him of my own free will, I don't think you need punish him. But there is one thing I will ask you to obtain for me, that is, his promise not to abuse Robert Klein, nor fight him, nor serve him out in any way."

Paul had stood by in sullen silence, and now his father turned to him, and said, "Do you hear what Hans asks? Give me your word that you will not touch Robert, and I will let you go free."

There was only one person in the world whom Paul feared, that was his father, and he had good reason to be afraid of him. He was a powerful man with a violent temper, who was very often partially intoxicated, and then he cared for no one, but dealt out his blows freely on whoever ventured to contradict or offend him.

"I will promise not to touch Robert, father," answered Paul, in a very different way to what he had spoken when addressing Hans. He was so glad to escape punishment that he would have pledged his word to anything that was required of him.

"And mind," added his father, "you will keep your promise this time, or my name is not Ebhardt. Do you hear me, sir?"

"Yes, I do," whimpered Paul.

"And now I hope you are satisfied. I wish you good morning," said the master tailor, waving his hand as if to dismiss his visitor.

So Hans was obliged to leave the shop, for he was afraid to make another effort to soften Paul's heart, lest his father should grow impatient and visit his anger on his son in a summary manner.

He was glad to reach home without meeting any of his acquaintances, for he was in no mood to indulge in every-day chat. He was chafed in spirit and disappointed at the rebuff he had received at the hands of Paul, and also annoyed at the rough manner in which he had been addressed by the master tailor.

Old Franz had not left the toll-keeper's cottage. He had just come downstairs after seeing Frau Schmidt.

"Well, what success have you had?" asked Karl.

"Poor enough," answered Hans, sighing. "Oh, master, I had such a beautiful plan in my head. Paul was to be so sorry, he was to turn over a new leaf and promise to reform, but it has all gone to the winds. I have gained nothing by my visit to him, except a promise that he will not fight Robert." And Hans gave an account of his interview with Herr Ebhardt and Paul.

"Well, well, you've done all you could; you've tried to carry out the Master's new commandment," said old Franz. "You can't make him sorry, you can't change his heart, my boy, but there is One who can. While there is life there is hope; so hope on, and pray that something will happen that will induce the lad to arise and go to his Father and say, 'I have sinned against heaven, and before Thee.'"

"And in the meantime let Robert be your care," added Karl; "for if he will no longer idle his time away, I do not mind his coming here. There seems better material to work upon in him, and you may be sure that he and Paul will never be friends again. The master tailor will take care of that. Depend upon it, this affair will be known in Kösen; indeed, it ought to be, and I think I should do well if I went to the Burgomaster, for he is certain to hear a garbled account from some one."

"No, no, sir; please don't do that. Let it rest now," said Richter. "My hand will be quite well in another week, and then the affair will die out. I shall be so sorry to keep up ill-will between Paul and Robert."

"Then you do not wish me to go and see Herr Ebhardt?"

"No, no, sir; it will only make Paul hate me the more; and I do want to win him over to be my friend at last."

"I don't think you will do that, but at any rate, the less said the soonest mended. I think you have right on your side," replied Karl. "But you must be prepared to hear more about it, for the miller is not a man to keep a secret, and he is sure to be told all the facts of the case by Robert. Must you go?" he added, addressing Franz Nieper, who made a movement towards the door.

"Yes, I have to say good-bye. I leave Kösen first thing to-morrow. There is a great fair in Halle soon, and as the weather is warm, I mean to take my time and move along slowly, for I did a good trade yesterday. I intended to stay longer, but somehow I feel unhinged, and more inclined to push on than to linger here."

"Good-bye," said Hans; "I hope we shall meet again one of these days."

"If we don't meet here, we shall meet yonder," replied the old man, pointing up to the blue sky, "for we all three have our faces turned in one direction. May it be our greatest joy so long as God spares our lives to do as yon man is doing who is just coming in sight—you see I have not forgotten our first conversation—'stick to the Raft.' Farewell."

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CHAPTER XI.

THE POOL OF BETHESDA.

ROBERT went directly to his father after he left Hans. The miller was writing a letter in his counting-house; he looked up with a troubled expression on his face when he saw his son enter, for Robert rarely came there unless he wanted to borrow or beg money, or to tell him of some mischief he had done.

"What is the matter now?" he said, impatiently.

"I am come to ask you to give me some work to do," stammered out Robert. "Father, I know you will say that I only bring you into trouble, and lose the business if I have anything to do with it, but I really am in earnest this time. I will tell you why." And the boy gave a detailed account of all that had occurred.

"Hans Richter is a noble fellow," exclaimed the miller. "I liked that boy from the first: he has a fine face, and looks as if he could not do a mean trick. And if he makes you a better lad, Robert, I shall indeed owe him a debt of gratitude."

"I think I've got hold of the secret of his goodness. Father, I'm beginning to believe there is something true in religion, and that it is because Hans loves God he is such a noble fellow. I mean to try and see if I can follow his example, and serve my God, too. Why should we not all turn over a new leaf, and go and hear Pastor Hahn preach on Sunday?"

"I can't quite do that, my boy, for I'm satisfied with the life I lead, and I don't care to be made gloomy by too much religion. I often think Pastor Hahn calls me to account without good reason, for I harm no one, pay my debts, don't drink, and am a good husband and father."

"I fancy Hans would say that was not enough; he told me the other day that I must give myself to Christ, and cling to Him as the men do to the raft when it shoots the weir, for that Christ died on the cross to save us from our sins. But I can't remember all he said, for I know so little about these things. I will soon know more, though, for Hans will teach me; and I mean to go with him to Pastor Hahn's Bible-class. I do very much wish I had read my Bible before this."

The miller felt uncomfortable; he could not but remember that if he had been a God-fearing man, the Bible would have been an honoured book. As it was, neither he nor his wife nor his children cared for its sacred pages.

"I'm not going to stop you from going to the Bible-class, or church," he answered, hurriedly; "you may do just as you like. And now tell me, Robert," he added, more quietly, "are you really anxious to give up your idle habits, and work?"

"Yes, father. I dare say it will be hard at first, but you must bear with me. I don't think really I'm such a very bad fellow at heart. But I've been under Paul; he has managed me, and I have not had pluck enough to shake him off."

"This is good hearing for me, and will make your mother very happy. You see, lad—to go back to what you said about our going to hear Pastor Hahn—we've been very comfortable all these years, and enjoyed our Sunday holidays right merrily, and I think it would make our neighbours chatter if we took to church-going now. As to the Bible, I don't so much mind hearing it read."

"Let me learn a little more from Hans first, father, and then by degrees we'll begin to read together; now tell me how I can help you."

"There's no lack of work, my boy. Trade has never been better. I wish you would keep my books for me; you write a good hand. But can I depend upon your being correct?"

"Try me, father. It's no use for me to talk about what I want to do; just see if I do it."

So Robert was installed as his father's bookkeeper. And he applied himself so diligently to the task that the miller hoped he really was going to reform and be a man of business at last. When the rest of the men left off work, Robert made himself neat and clean and set out to the toll-keeper's cottage, for he wanted to know if Hans had seen or heard anything of Paul.

He received a kind welcome from Karl Schmidt, who told him he hoped he would yet be a great comfort to his father. "But don't trust in yourself, Robert," he said. "'Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.'"

When Hans and Robert were left alone, the former made light of his interview with Herr Ebhardt and his son, save when he spoke of the promise Paul had given him.

"Mind, Robert," he said, "that you never come to an open quarrel with your former friend. If Paul breaks his word, his father will treat him so violently that I do not like to think of what the consequences might be; avoid crossing his path, if possible, for the present."

"I will; indeed, I will, Hans. It shall not be my fault if we fall out, but it will be rather difficult to avoid Paul."

"Not so difficult as you think. It is some little distance from the mill to the master tailor's house at the far end of the village. If you become a man of business, you will have no time to idle away, and be less likely to meet Paul."

"Hans, I want to ask you a question," said Robert: "is it enough for us to live good lives—I mean, is that what you call 'sticking to the Raft'?"

"No, no, Robert, 'sticking to the Raft' is quite another sort of life. Instead of depending on yourself, you depend on the finished work of your Saviour, who shed His most precious blood on the cross for sinners. You feel how utterly impossible it is to do, or to say, or to think anything that is right, so you cast your care on Christ, and believe in Him as the only Saviour, and you yield yourself to Him broken-hearted for your sin, and say, 'Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief.'"