her having been away from home. But his heart was full, too, although in
a different way.

"I can hardly realize," said Hansei, taking a long breath and putting
the pipe, which he had intended to light, back into his pocket, "what
has become of all the years that I spent there and all that I went
through during the time. Look, Walpurga! the road you see there leads to
my home. I know every hill and every hollow. My mother's buried there.
Do you see the pines growing on the hill over yonder? That hill was
quite bare; every tree was cut down when the French were here; and see
how fine and hardy the trees are now. I planted most of them myself. I
was a little boy about eleven or twelve years old when the forester
hired me. He had fresh soil brought for the whole place and covered the
rocky spots with moss. In the spring I worked from six in the morning
till seven in the evening, putting in the little plants. My left hand
was almost frozen, for I had to keep putting it into a tub of wet loam,
with which I covered the roots. I was scantily clothed into the bargain,
and had nothing to eat all day long but a piece of bread. In the morning
it was cold enough to freeze the marrow in one's bones, and at noon I
was almost roasted by the hot sun beating on the rocks. It was a hard
life. Yes, I had a hard time of it when I was young. Thank God, it
hasn't harmed me any. But I shan't forget it; and let's be right
industrious and give all we can to the poor. I never would have believed
that I'd live to call a single tree or a handful of earth my own; and
now that God has given me so much, let's try and deserve it all."

Hansei's eyes blinked, as if there was something in them, and he pulled
his hat down over his forehead. Now, while he was pulling himself up by
the roots as it were, he could not help thinking of how thoroughly he
had become engrafted into the neighborhood by the work of his hands and