atrina did remember what the voice had said. She recalled the grand, majestic tones in which it had spoken of the Wartburg.

“How little can you children realize, as you play your youthful games here in its very shadow, for how many ages this same castle has been watching the play, not only of children, but of men and women grown!”

“Oh, won’t you tell us something about those men and women?” cried the boy and girl together, and there was an eager look in both their faces. All fear had vanished from Katrina, who whispered to her playmate:

“Canst thou guess, dear Fritz, whose voice it is that speaks?”

The boy shook his head.

“No, and that is the mystery of it all. It seems as though the one who spoke stood close beside me, and yet, I look all about, and can see no human being but thyself. Art thou playing me some prank, little one? But thou couldst not change thy sweet treble for deep bass.” And the boy laughed gaily at such a notion.

“Yes, my children,” the voice continued, in those same melodious accents like the notes of a distant organ, “I have seen many generations come and go. Little has taken place here without my knowledge.”

“If you’d only tell us some of the wonderful things you’ve seen, we’d be so happy,” Katrina said.

“Where shall I begin?” and the voice took on a reminiscent tone.

“At the very beginning of it all,” and, as he spoke, Fritz drew nearer to Katrina. They were filled with a curiosity to hear what the strange voice might have to tell them.

“Then you would have me to relate how the Wartburg came into existence? To do that, I must go back very far,—yes, even far beyond the time of my own presence here. Well, if you will have it so, then follow the directions that I give you. Go, both of you, and study carefully that great stone pillar near the entrance yonder. Come back, and tell me what you find carved upon its double capital.”

Hand in hand the children went. Then, after gazing long at the figure carved on the crumbling pillar, they returned and said:

“It was the queerest-looking man with a long beard, and he seemed to be springing from a rock.”

“Just so,” the voice replied. “The image you saw was that of the founder of this castle, and his name was Ludwig the Leaper.”

“Ludwig the Leaper!” Fritz exclaimed. “How did anybody ever come to have such a funny name as that?” “It is exactly what I am about to tell you,” said the voice with some impatience; “do not interrupt me. You shall hear it all in time. It was in the year 1067,” the voice went on to say, “that Ludwig, while riding through the country, came upon this beautiful hill. He saw that it was a splendid site on which to build a castle, and with joy exclaimed:

“‘Wart Berg, du sollst mir eine Berg werden.’[1]

“And very soon this stronghold was begun. A severe famine fell upon the land during the time the castle was being built, and every stone meant bread for the hungry poor who helped in its construction. Some brought the rough stone from the quarry, while others cut it into blocks and got it ready for the builders.

“After living here in happiness for several years, Ludwig committed a crime for which he was put in prison, and all of two years lay pining in an old fortress on the river Saale. But one day he made his escape by a bold leap into the river.”

“Ah, so!” cried Fritz and Katrina, clapping their hands. “Now we know why he was called Ludwig the Leaper.”

“Yes,” and, as the voice spoke, there was a low, rustling sound very much like laughter. “So your curiosity has been appeased! But after all, I must not chide you for being curious. Had it not been for my desire to know things, I should not now possess the greatest of all treasures.”

“The greatest of all treasures! I pray you tell us what the greatest treasure is?”

But before the voice could answer Fritz’s query, some one called:

“Katrina, Katrina, come at once! I need thee, child, to help me.”

“Yes, mÜtterchen, I’ll come at once.”

Fritz went with Katrina to the postern-door, where Frau Hofer stood, her white apron and a large iron spoon showing that she had been busy with preparations for their supper.

“Come in, Fritz, and break the evening bread with us; thou art always welcome at our little table.”

There was a caress in Frau Hofer’s voice; she felt warmly for this motherless boy, the son of her girlhood’s dearest friend.

“Thank thee, Tante Frieda, I can’t come in this time. It’s hard, though, to resist that odour of gingerbread,” Fritz added with a smile; “but the father will come home to-night, and I must be there to greet him.”

“Thy father will be tired from his journey, so thou must have something hot for him when he comes.”

“Yes, old Gesta promised to make one of her famous stews for him, and I’ll get out a bottle of his favourite wine.” “Did he sell all of his toys in NÜremberg?” Frau Hofer asked.

“Yes, and he has orders for all that he can make between now and Christmas.”

“Then that means thou wilt have to turn toymaker in earnest now, and help him. Thou hast already had some training in the work. It would be good to walk along the street and see a sign that read ‘Conrad Albrecht and Son, Toymakers.’”

Fritz made a wry face and shook his head.

“My tools and these fingers would never be at peace. They were not intended for each other. Look at my hands, tante; can’t you see that they are far too clumsy for such work?” And saying this, the boy held up his broad little palms and stretched his fingers wide apart.

“But,” he added with a smile, “if my work-bench were only a ship, I’d sail away to distant lands; then, if there were mountains in the way, I’d tunnel through them, and over the rivers I’d throw great bridges. And, maybe, when tired of all this,” he added, looking knowingly at Katrina, “I’d get into my ship again, and sail away and away in search of the greatest of all treasures.”

Frau Hofer raised a mocking forefinger and smiled:

“We’ll have to put an anchor on thy work-bench and hold thee, lad, or one of these fine days thou wilt really sail away and leave us.” “Not while the father lives,” and Fritz’s dark eyes took on a serious look. “But come!” he suddenly exclaimed; “I’m keeping you both out here, when there are many duties waiting for you in the home.”

Then, with one of his frank smiles, the boy lifted his cap gallantly and turned away.