Matthias's widow is in despair. Lazarus has disappeared. In a fit of
temper he threw a stone at her, then gave a wild yell and rushed away.
"It was a _small_ stone, but there is a heavy stone upon my heart,"
laments the mother; "his running away is the biggest stone he could have
thrown."

_St. Catherine's Day_, 1817.

Lazarus' sister found a letter pinned on to a stick on her father's
grave, which she often visits. It was from her brother, and told them
not to worry--he is "in the school of the Cross." And then there was
another letter to say that he was well, and thinking of them all. They
answered, imploring him to return, and fixed the note and a little cross
on the tomb. It is still there, and has never been opened.

_March_, 1818.

Berthold is gone among the wood-cutters, and has got his hut. A little
girl was born to Aga yesterday, and I was sent for to baptise it. I am
no priest, and must not steal a name from the calendar. So I called her
Forest Lily, and baptised her with the water of the priest.

_Summer_, 1818.

The first Sunday in these forests! The church is finished, and the bells
have summoned the people from the whole neighbourhood. The priest has
come from Heldenichlag to dedicate the church, and the schoolmaster to
play the organ. But some of the folk grumble because there is no inn by
the church; and I hear that the _grassteiger_ has applied for a spirit