distributed by the city to each individual, was no longer enough to quiet
hunger and support life.

Junker Georg had long been living in Burgomaster Van der Werff's house.

On the morning of August 29th he returned home from an expedition,
carrying a cross-bow in his hand, while a pouch hung over his shoulder.
This time he did not go up-stairs, but sought Barbara in the kitchen. The
widow received him with a friendly nod; her grey eyes sparkled as
brightly as ever, but her round face had grown narrower and there was a
sorrowful quiver about the sunken mouth.

"What do you bring to-day?" she asked the Junker. Georg thrust his hand
into his game-bag and answered, smiling: "A fat snipe and four larks; you
know."

"Poor sparrows! But what sort of a creature can this be? Headless,
legless, and carefully plucked! Junker, Junker, that's suspicious."

"It will do for the pan, and the name is of no consequence."

"Yet, yet; true, nobody knows on what he fattens, but the Lord didn't
create every animal for the human stomach."

"That's just what I said. It's a short-billed snipe, a corvus, a real
corvus."

"Corvus! Nonsense, I'm afraid of the thing--the little feathers under the
wings. Good heavens! surely it isn't a raven?"

"It's a corvus, as I said. Put the bird in vinegar, roast it with
seasoning and it will taste like a real snipe. Wild ducks are not to be
found every day, as they were a short time ago, and sparrows are getting
as scarce as roses in winter. Every boy is standing about with a
cross-bow, and in the court-yards people are trying to catch them under
sieves and with lime-twigs. They are going to be exterminated, but one or
another is still spared. How is the little elf?"

"Don't call her that!" exclaimed the widow. "Give her her Christian name.
She looks like this cloth, and since yesterday has refused to take the
milk we daily procure for her at a heavy cost. Heaven knows what the end
will be. Look at that cabbage-stalk. Half a stiver! and that miserable
piece of bone! Once I should have thought it too poor for the dogs--and
now! The whole household must be satisfied with it. For supper I shall
boil ham-rind with wine and add a little porridge to it. And this for a
giant like Peter! God only knows where he gets his strength; but he looks
like his own shadow. Maria doesn't need anything more than a bird, but
Adrian, poor fellow, often leaves the table with tears in his eyes, yet I
know he has broken ma