ot exactly knowing what to make of
it.

"What do you say to this new misfortune?" asked the giant, mournfully.

"At all events, you must go to your son at once," was Anton's reply.

"Of course I must," said the porter; "this blow comes heavily upon me
just now; the day after to-morrow I shall be fifty."

The meaning of the letter now flashed upon Anton. "Are you accoutred
according to Karl's directions?"

"I am," said the giant, throwing back the linen covering; "all is right,
the fur and the boots too."

Anton looked in, and had some trouble to preserve his gravity. Sturm
looked like a pre-Adamic bear of colossal dimensions. A great sword
leaned against the seat. "Against those scythe-men!" said he, angrily
shaking it. "I have still one other request to make you. Wilhelm has got
the key of my house; will you take charge of this box? it holds what was
formerly under my bed. Keep it for Karl."

"I will give it into Mr. Schroeter's care," replied Anton; "he is just
gone to the railway station, and may be back any moment."

"Greet him from me," said the giant; "greet him and Miss Sabine, and
tell them both how heartily I thank them for all the friendliness they
have shown to Karl and me." He looked in with emotion at the ground
floor. "Many a happy year I have worked away there, and if the rings on
the hundred weights are well polished, these hands have done their part
to make them so. I have shared the fate of this house for thirty years,
good and bad, and I can tell you, Mr Wohlfart, we were always wide
awake. I shall roll your barrels no more," continued he, turning to the
servants, "and some one else will help you to unload the wagons. Think
often of old Sturm when you fasten up a sugar-cask. Nothing here below
can last forever, not even the strongest; but this firm, Mr. Wohlfart,
will stand and flourish so long as it has a chief like Mr. Schroeter, and
men like you, and good hands below there at the great scales. This is my
heart's wish." He folded his hands, and tears rolled down his cheeks.
"And now farewell, Mr. Wohlfart; give me your hand; and farewell Peter,
Franz, Gottfried--all of you, think kindly of me. To Rosmin, driver."
The cart rolled away over the pavement, the sheet opening once more, and
Sturm's great head emerging for a last look and wave of the hand.

Anton was exceedingly anxious about him for a few days, when a letter
came in Karl's own hand.

"Dear Mr. Wohlfart," wrote Karl, "you will o