d already! Two years at the infant school,
four at the city school, two at the industrial. Why, you have had eight
years' schooling, and you know the different goods as well as a clerk.
Why, you are an insatiable youth."

"Yes; but I must have a calling," replied Karl. "I must be a shoemaker,
tailor, shopkeeper, or mechanic."

"Don't tease yourself about that," said his father; "I have provided for
all that in your education. You are practical and honorable too."

"Yes; but can I make a pair of boots? can I cut out a coat?"

"You can," replied old Sturm; "try, and you'll succeed."

"Very well; to-morrow I'll buy you some leather, and make you a pair of
boots: you shall feel how they'll pinch. But, once for all, I can't go
on as I am, and I'll set some one at you who will tell you the same."

"Don't be covetous, Karl," said his father, "or spoil this day for me.
Give me the can of beer, and be a good boy."

Karl placed the great can before his father, and soon took up his cap
and went out. Old Sturm sat still a while, but his comfort was
destroyed, and the house seemed dull without his son's cheerful face. At
length he went into the next room, and drew out a heavy iron chest from
under the bed. He opened it with a little key that he took out of his
waistcoat pocket, lifted one bag after another, began a long mental
calculation, then pushed the chest under the bed again, and returned to
his can of beer with a calmer aspect.

Meanwhile Karl had hurried off to the town, and soon made his appearance
in Anton's apartment. After the kindly greeting on both sides, he began:

"I am come, sir, to ask your advice as to what is to become of me? I can
make nothing of my father. He won't hear of my being a porter; and if I
speak of another calling, he comforts me with saying that he shall not
live long. A pretty comfort that! Would you be so good as to speak to
him about me? He has a high opinion of you, and knows that you are
always kind to me."

"That I will, gladly," replied Anton; "but what do you think of
becoming?"

"It's all one to me," said Karl, "so that it's something regular. Here I
turn my hands to all sorts of things, but that's different to regular
work."

The next Sunday Anton went to old Sturm's. The home of the head porter
was a small house near the river, distinguished from those of his
neighbors by its red-washed walls. Anton opened the low door, and
wondered how the giant could possibly live in so sm