ssed. Then they went, arm-in-arm, to
visit Julie, who received her lover's friend with all her sweetness and
kindness. It did Felix good to be with these two happy people, and he
expressed this feeling with so much warmth that Julie thought him
extremely charming, and purposely turned the conversation upon his
emigration plans in order to dissuade him from them, if it were still
possible. But he remained unshaken; and it seemed as if, in spite of
all this kind friendship, he could not wait for the time when he should
set foot upon the shore beyond the ocean. What it was that was driving
him away was not referred to by a word.

Before the evening's festival, they separated for a few hours. Jansen
and Julie had first to light a Christmas-tree for little Frances and
her foster brothers and sisters, and it was eight o'clock when they
reached the studios.

Yet they were not too late, but, on the contrary, had to wait for
some time down-stairs in Jansen's rooms with the other friends,
until Rosenbusch, who was always finding some last improvements to
make in the decorations, gave the signal by ringing a hoarse, old
hand-bell--like his other treasures, an historically authenticated
household utensil of the famous Friedlander.

Besides their intimate circle, Felix, Rossel, Elfinger, Schnetz and
Kohle, no one had been invited but old Schoepf. It had cost much
trouble to persuade the old man to come, for on this day he missed his
lost grandchild more bitterly than ever. Once persuaded, he seemed, in
his silent way, greatly touched; though he strove not to disturb the
merry mood of the others. Then, too, there was so much to be seen and
admired and laughed at in the Christmas room--Rosenbusch had so
surpassed himself, had arranged such tasteful decorations, had made so
many verses and prepared so many mottoes, that it was a full hour
before the distribution of presents was over.

Then when the lights on the tree had begun to sputter and go out, one
after the other, Schnetz suddenly produced a box, in which, up to this
time, he had kept his present concealed. It was a series of the most
amusing silhouettes, which he now passed in review on a white screen by
means of a magic-lantern. They represented the events and adventures of
the past year, none of those present escaping without a full share of
ridicule. The exhibitor himself was not spared, and it is scarcely
necessary to say that his knightship of the rueful countenance was