he fire, which was
raging at the house of a neighbor opposite. The goblin caught up the
wonderful book which lay on the table, and popped it into his red cap,
which he held tightly with both hands. The greatest treasure in the
house was saved; and he ran away with it to the roof, and seated
himself on the chimney. The flames of the burning house opposite
illuminated him as he sat, both hands pressed tightly over his cap, in
which the treasure lay; and then he found out what feelings really
reigned in his heart, and knew exactly which way they tended. And yet,
when the fire was extinguished, and the goblin again began to reflect,
he hesitated, and said at last, "I must divide myself between the two;
I cannot quite give up the huckster, because of the jam."

And this is a representation of human nature. We are like the
goblin; we all go to visit the huckster "because of the jam."

THE GOLDEN TREASURE

The drummer's wife went into the church. She saw the new altar
with the painted pictures and the carved angels. Those upon the canvas
and in the glory over the altar were just as beautiful as the carved
ones; and they were painted and gilt into the bargain. Their hair
gleamed golden in the sunshine, lovely to behold; but the real
sunshine was more beautiful still. It shone redder, clearer through
the dark trees, when the sun went down. It was lovely thus to look
at the sunshine of heaven. And she looked at the red sun, and she
thought about it so deeply, and thought of the little one whom the
stork was to bring, and the wife of the drummer was very cheerful, and
looked and looked, and wished that the child might have a gleam of
sunshine given to it, so that it might at least become like one of the
shining angels over the altar.

And when she really had the little child in her arms, and held
it up to its father, then it was like one of the angels in the
church to behold, with hair like gold--the gleam of the setting sun
was upon it.

"My golden treasure, my riches, my sunshine!" said the mother; and
she kissed the shining locks, and it sounded like music and song in
the room of the drummer; and there was joy, and life, and movement.
The drummer beat a roll--a roll of joy. And the Drum said--the
Fire-drum, that was beaten when there was a fire in the town:

"Red hair! the little fellow has red hair! Believe the drum, and
not what your mother says! Rub-a dub, rub-a dub!"

And the town repeated what the Fire-drum