"Lucie, my Lucie, wilt thou not forgive thy little Fritz?" pleaded the mother of two children whose father had been a soldier in the Prussian army, and whose bravery had been rewarded with a medal which was worn on his coat lapel.

Lucie answered, with a deep sigh, "He was so cruel, dear mother; he pushed me down so rudely on the hard floor!"

"Yes, I saw that push; but he was angry."

"And I tried so well to do what he wished; I kept the step and marched behind him, and I helped to make his cap, and I ran out to the poultry-yard for a feather which had dropped from the cock's tail—the green and blue one that eats so much corn—and I was as good a soldier as I knew how to be!"

"Well, what was the matter?"

"Why, I had my dear Rosa in my arms, and Ludwig looked over the fence, and laughed at Fritz for having a girl with a doll in his regiment, and Fritz became very cross, and said he would not play. Then I put my Rosa down, and went marching again; but that dreadful great cock came and pecked at her eyes, and I could not see her suffer; so I hid her in my apron while Fritz was not looking, and we came into the house to fill our knapsacks; then Fritz saw Rosa, and he said I was a disobedient soldier, and he pulled her out of my arms, and tossed her down and broke her, as you see—oh, my dear, my good Rosa!"

"But I think Fritz is sorry. See! he has been tied to the table a long while for punishment. Can you not forgive him?"

Lucie did not answer; her little soul seemed much disturbed.

"Come, I will tell thee a story, my Lucie, of two other children, and then, perhaps, thou wilt be more ready to let Fritz go free. Far away up in the mountains where are the chamois, and where the rocks are rough and the forests dark, lived Hans and Gretchen. They were wild as the chamois themselves, and their old grandfather could scarcely keep them by his side long enough to tell them the story of the Saviour's love, or teach them even to read. They knew the haunt of every wild creature of the woods, and many were their quarrels over a nest of young birds, or the possession of the animals they trapped. They had no kind mother; their words were often harsh, and sometimes hunger made them really cruel to each other. They were much to be pitied, for their grandfather was lame as well as old, and could do little for their support.

"One day, in an eager chase after a rabbit Gretchen gave Hans a great push, which sent him down over a rocky ledge on to some stones. She was frightened to see that he did not move, and still more frightened when she found he was moaning with pain. She ran to get help, and the neighbors came and lifted Hans and carried him home; but he never walked again: his spine was hurt. Ah! what sorrow then was Gretchen's! How she wished she had never been so unkind!

"How she missed her companion in her wild rambles, and in her search for the Edelweiss flowers which she sold to travellers, and so gained a little money! Lottie by little she learned how to be a better girl—learned to be patient with Hans, who was often very cross; and as she grew older, and could better care for the house and her old grandfather, they came to love her very much.

"But do you not think that little children who have been taught to be kind, and to love the dear Father in heaven whose Son died on the cross, should be willing to forgive when quarrels arise?"

Both little faces had grown sad, one with earnest resolve never again to be harsh with his sister, the other with tender regret. At last Lucie said, "My mother, I forgive Fritz; but what shall I do for poor Rosa?"

"Rosa shall have a new head when I have saved kreutzers to buy one," said Fritz; and so they kissed and made up.