of us of more value than all the mountains in the universe. Jesus
created mountains; but he died for us."

"Where did you learn this, Franz?"

"From the Bible, sir."

I saw it all; the Bible was the textbook he had studied. It was this
which had given him that rare expression of face, and the words so far
above the condition of life indicated by the little hamlet where he
lived.

There was no more time, for the sun was going down, and we must go
with it; and rising, we began to make the descent.

The moon was full orbed before we reached the cottage. I was weary
beyond the power of utterance.

"If you would prefer to stop here, we can give you a comfortable bed,"
said Franz, "and Annette will have something to eat. I told her that
there was a possibility that you would like to remain."

It was the very thing I wanted, and placing my pole by the side of
Franz's in the little shed from which Annette had brought it in the
morning, I entered the cottage.

All was still and quiet. It seemed Annette had not heard us; for as
the door was opened, she rose from the bedside, where she had been
kneeling, and springing lightly to Franz hid her little tear-wet face
in his bosom. She did not perceive me, and for a moment there was