have been drowned.'"

"See! the children are going into the schoolhouse, Gretchen. We must not be late. Let's run," said Bertha.

The two little girls stopped talking, and hurried so fast that they entered the schoolhouse and were sitting in their seats in good order before the schoolmaster struck his bell.

CHAPTER III.
THE WICKED BISHOP

"The Rhine is the loveliest river in the world. I know it must be," said Bertha.

"Of course it is," answered her brother. "I've seen it, and I ought to know. And father thinks so, too. He says it is not only beautiful, but it is also bound into the whole history of our country. Think of the battles that have been fought on its shores, and the great generals who have crossed it!"

"Yes, and the castles, Hans! Think of the legends father and mother have told us about the beautiful princesses who have lived in the castles, and the brave knights who have fought for them! I shall be perfectly happy if I can ever sail down the Rhine and see the noted places on its shores."

"The schoolmaster has taught you all about the war with France, hasn't he, Bertha?"

"Of course. And it really seemed at one time as if France would make us Germans agree to have the Rhine divide the two countries. Just as if we would be willing to let the French own one shore of our beautiful river. I should say not!"

Bertha's cheeks grew rosier than usual at the thought of such a thing. She talked faster than German children usually do, for they are rather slow in their speech.

"We do not own all of the river, little sister, as it is. The baby Rhine sleeps in an icy cradle in the mountains of Switzerland. Then it makes its way through our country, but before it reaches the sea it flows through the low lands of Holland."

"I know all that, Hans. But we own the best of the Rhine, anyway. I am perfectly satisfied."

"I wish I knew all the legends about the river. There are enough of them to fill many books. Did you ever hear about the Rats' Tower opposite the town of Bingen, Bertha?"

"What a funny name for a tower! No. Is there a story about it, Hans?"

"Yes, one of the boys was telling it to me yesterday while we were getting wood in the forest. It is a good story, although my friend said he wasn't sure it is true."

"What is the story?"

"It is about a very wicked bishop who was a miser. It happened one time that the harvests were poor and grain was scarce. The cruel bishop bought all the grain he could get and locked it up. He intended to sell it for a high price, and in this way to become very rich.

"As the days went by, the food became scarcer and scarcer. The people began to sicken and die of hunger. They had but one thought: they must get something to eat for their children and themselves.

"They knew of the stores of grain held by the bishop. They went to him and begged for some of it, but he paid no attention to their prayers. Then they demanded that he open the doors of the storehouse and let them have the grain. It was of no use.

"At last, they gathered together, and said:

"'We will break down the door if you do not give it to us.'

"'Come to-morrow,' answered the bishop. 'Bring your friends with you. You shall have all the grain you desire.'

"The morrow came. Crowds gathered in front of the granary. The bishop unlocked the door, saying:

"'Go inside and help yourselves freely.'

"The people rushed in. Then what do you think the cruel bishop did? He ordered his servants to lock the door and set the place on fire!

"The air was soon filled with the screams of the burning people. But the bishop only laughed and danced. He said to his servants:

"'Do you hear the rats squeaking inside the granary?'

"The next day came. There were only ashes in place of the great storehouse. There seemed to be no life about the town, for the people were all dead.

"Suddenly there was a great scurrying, as a tremendous swarm of rats came rushing out of the ashes. On they came, more and more of them. They filled the streets, and even made their way into the palace.

"The wicked bishop was filled with fear. He fled from the place and hurried away over the fields. But the swarm of rats came rushing after him. He came to Bingen, where he hoped to be safe within its walls. Somehow or other, the rats made their way inside.

THE RATS' TOWER.

"There was now only one hope of safety. The bishop fled to a tower standing in the middle of the Rhine. But it was of no use! The rats swam the river and made their way up the sides of the tower. Their sharp teeth gnawed holes through the doors and windows. They entered in and came to the room where the bishop was hiding."

"Wicked fellow! They killed and ate him as he deserved, didn't they?" asked Bertha.

"There wasn't much left of him in a few minutes. But the tower still stands, and you can see it if you ever go to Bingen, although it is a crumbling old pile now."

"Rats' Tower is a good name for it. But I would rather hear about enchanted princesses and brave knights than wicked old bishops. Tell me another story, Hans."

"Oh, I can't. Listen! I hear some one coming. Who can it be?"

Hans jumped up and ran to the door, just in time to meet his Uncle Fritz, who lived in Strasburg.

The children loved him dearly. He was a young man about twenty-one years old. He came home to this little village in the Black Forest only about once a year. He had so much to tell and was so kind and cheerful, every one was glad to see him.

"Uncle Fritz! Uncle Fritz! We are so glad you've come," exclaimed Bertha, putting her arms around his neck. "And we are going to have something that you like for dinner."

"I can guess what it is. Sauerkraut and boiled pork. There is no other sauerkraut in Germany as good as that your mother makes, I do believe. I'm hungry enough to eat the whole dishful and not leave any for you children. Now what do you say to my coming? Don't you wish I had stayed in Strasburg?"

"Oh, no, no, Uncle Fritz. We would rather see you than anybody else," cried Hans. "And here comes mother. She will be just as glad as we are."

That evening, after Hans had shown his uncle around the village, and he had called on his old friends, he settled himself in the chimney-corner with the children about him.

"Talk to us about Strasburg, Uncle Fritz," begged Gretchen.

"Please tell us about the storks," said Bertha. "Are there great numbers of the birds in the city, and do they build their nests on the chimneys?"

"Yes, you can see plenty of storks flying overhead if you will come back with me," said Uncle Fritz, laughingly. "They seem to know the people love them. If a stork makes his home about any one's house, it is a sign of good fortune to the people who live there.

"'It will surely come,' they say to themselves, 'and the storks will bring it.' Do you wonder the people like the birds so much?"

"I read a story about a mother stork," said Bertha, thoughtfully. "She had a family of baby birds. They were not big enough to leave their nest, when a fire broke out in the chimney where it was built. Poor mother bird! She could