mother to the gloomy man. 'Careless of the threatening future, he enjoys the present. Does not our holy bible say, 'unless you become like little children you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven!' Therefore leave the portentous future to the wise guidance of God, and be happy with us to-night, for once, like this harmless child. Above all, be silent in my husband's presence, respecting your bad news. He has been very anxious and dejected for some days, and I shall be much grieved if anything occur to render us unhappy this evening, to which christians of all denominations look with general joy as the anniversary of their common origin.'

One of Fessel's apprentices now opened the door. 'My master directs me to say to you,' cried he, 'that you may immediately commence the distribution of the presents, before it is too late. He has yet much to do in the counting-room. Two important letters have arrived. He will come to you at the earliest moment possible.'

'That is not at all pleasant!' sighed Katharine, as the messenger disappeared. 'There can be no true family festival where the master of the house is missing. Nevertheless, my husband is right! If I delay much longer, the supper will be spoiled and everything will be in disorder.' She rang a bell which stood upon the table. A distant shout of children answered the noisy summons. She rang a second time, when the shouts came nearer, and a joyous tumult arose at the door of the room. She now put down the bell, and looked pleasedly toward the door, before which the whispering, laughing and tramping band awaited the third call.

'They must wait a little,' said Katharine, smiling, to the clergyman. 'It seasons the pleasure, and is a wholesome lesson for youth, when early taught.' The holy man nodded assent to the pedagogical artifice; but meanwhile the mother's heart began to yield, and impelled Katharine's hand toward the bell.

The third call now sounded, when the door burst open as if at the explosion of a petard, and the four children of Fessel, two vigorous boys and two lovely girls, stormed into the room, surrounding and dragging their favorite, the book-keeper, along with them. After them followed the clerks, apprentices, servants and maidens, who modestly arranged themselves in a row near the door until their places were pointed out to them.

The children precipitated themselves toward the richly laden table like a rushing stream, recognizing the portion destined for each with a searching and rapid glance. 'I will draw this against Wallenstein!' screamed the wild Martin, brandishing a little sword that he found among his presents. 'A bible and a bunch of quills,' cried the intellectual Ulrich, holding them up: 'now I will write against the papists like the noble Hutten, whose name I bear. 'Alas, the poor maidens who can never be married!' cried both of the girls, bringing two waxen nuns to their mother.

'Beloved children!' said the clergyman, pressing them all to his heart. They tore themselves from his arms and broke out in a simultaneous shout of astonishment and joy upon observing the miniature manger. Then as if beside themselves they ran, tumbling over each other, to their mother, the clergyman and Dorn, thankfully showing and praising their several presents.

'Will you not look at your christmas present, master Dorn?' asked Katharine of the book-keeper, who kept himself apart in serious silence.

He turned toward the designated place with a melancholy smile, and as he cast his eyes upon the rich present, a complete and splendid dress-suit with a full complement of the finest linen, he turned again with deep emotion to Katharine, who was pointing out their places to the rest of the household.

'This is too much, madam Katharine,' he cried. 'How may you thus favor the stranger beyond the children of your house?'

'The stranger?' asked Katharine resentfully. 'In our hearts it has been a long time since you were so, and we should much regret to have you consider yourself one. Believe me, we are sensible what a faithful companion and assistant my husband has acquired in you, and that every thing we can do for you is but honestly discharging our obligations.'

'Ah, see, master Dorn, you also have got a sword!' cried Martin, holding up this essential part of the dress of a burgher in those times, which lay by Dorn's present.

Dorn suddenly approached the boy and taking the magnificent sword from his hands gazed upon it with secret pleasure. At length he could no longer resist the desire to draw and try the temper of the blade.

'You are not angry,' asked Katharine, 'that a lady should presume to arm you? Really your old sword with its hacked hilt and notched and rusty blade, would not have become your new suit.'

'You have done well, worthy lady,' said Dorn, proving the blade by pressing its point against the floor and bending it in every direction. 'The old sword had indeed become dear to me, like an old friend who had always remained true in times of necessity and danger; but I never reflect upon the deeds I have performed with it without shuddering. It seems to me that it is possessed by an evil spirit which impels my hand to deeds of blood against my will, and I therefore do not like to touch it. This has as yet drank no blood, and, so help me God, I will preserve it unstained unless I am compelled to draw it in defence of the hearth where I, a friendless stranger, have been so hospitably received.'

'Or in defence of religion,' added the parson.

'The true religion, most worthy sir,' answered Dorn, 'needs not the aid of the sword!'

The reverend man had already opened his mouth to refute this bold proposition, when the master of the house entered with a clouded countenance, holding two open letters in his hand. He briefly greeted the parson, gently put aside the children who gathered about him in their noisy joy, and handed one of the letters to his wife.

'From your mother, at Sagan,' said he; and while she proceeded to read it with visible terror, he drew the book-keeper to a window.

'I have a sudden and disagreeable business for you,' said he to Dorn. 'The terrible Wallenstein conducts himself in his new dukedom with a tyranny almost unheard of among christians. He has determined to send all the orphan sons of burghers of Sagan to the school he has recently established at Gitschin. Those whom he has found in the place, have been forcibly sent to Bohemia. Their property and relatives are held answerable for the absent. As you already know, my mother-in-law's nephew, young Engelmann, is at present studying at the gymnasium in this city; and the tyrant has thrown his uncle and guardian into prison until the pupil shall be forthcoming. No other course remains, but to send the poor boy home as soon as possible; and, that he may, in these dangerous times, reach Sagan with safety, it is my wish that you would accompany him. When there, you may also be able to assist me in another affair. I have loaned a thousand gilders upon the two houses of the joiner Eckebrect. My debtor now informs me that the houses are among those the duke has caused to be demolished for the purpose of opening a better view for his palace. Nothing has yet been said respecting indemnification. I therefore wish you, while on the spot, to obtain all the information you can upon the subject.'

'I am very willingly at your service,' modestly answered Dorn. 'When shall I set out?'

'Did I not fear the sin of keeping you from church on christmas night,' said Fessel, 'I would beg of you to start this very evening. Sagan is distant, and old Engelmann is a very worthy man, whose release from prison I should be glad to effect as soon as possible.'

'The