thing. She talked faster than German children usually do, for they
are rather slow in their speech.

"We do not own all of the river, little sister, as it is. The baby
Rhine sleeps in an icy cradle in the mountains of Switzerland. Then
it makes its way through our country, but before it reaches the sea
it flows through the low lands of Holland."

"I know all that, Hans. But we own the best of the Rhine, anyway. I
am perfectly satisfied."

"I wish I knew all the legends about the river. There are enough of
them to fill many books. Did you ever hear about the Rats' Tower
opposite the town of Bingen, Bertha?"

[Illustration: The Rats' Tower.]

"What a funny name for a tower! No. Is there a story about it,
Hans?"

"Yes, one of the boys was telling it to me yesterday while we were
getting wood in the forest. It is a good story, although my friend
said he wasn't sure it is true."

"What is the story?"

"It is about a very wicked bishop who was a miser. It happened one
time that the harvests were poor and grain was scarce. The cruel
bishop bought all the grain he could get and locked it up. He
intended to sell it for a high price, and in this way to become very