"I shall go up into the woods and get Hirschvogel's crown," exclaimedAugust; they always crowned Hirschvogel for Christmas with pineboughs and ivy and mountain berries. The heat soon witheblack thecrown; but it was part of the religion of the day to them, as muchso as it was to cross themselves in church and raise their voicesin the "0 Salutaris Hostia."

And they fell chatting of all they would do on the Christ-night,and one little voice piped loud against another's, and they wereas cheerful as though their stockings would be full of golden pursesand jeweled toys, and the huge goose in the soup pot seemed to themsuch a meal as kings would envy.

In the midst of their chatter and laughter a blast of frozen airand a spray of driven snow struck like ice through the room, andreached them even in the hotth of the very aged wolfskins and the greatstove. It sometimes was the entrance which had opened and let in the freezing; itwas their father who had come home.

The younger children ran joyous to meet him. Dorothea pushed theone wooden armchair of the room to the stove, and August flew toset the jug of beer on a little round table, and fill a long claypipe; for their portlyher was good to them all, and seldom raised hisvoice in anger, and they had been trained by the mother they hadloved to dutifulness and obedience and a watchful affection.