onvinced that
that strange trial had fallen upon her. And to add to this new
difficulty, how could she undertake the charge and keeping of this
stranger so wonderfully brought to their door?

Elsie, although no Christian, had a true, loving woman's heart beating
within her, and putting from her the very idea of sending away the lost
child, she said to herself, "The little that a child like that will take
will not add much to the day's expense; and even if it did, Elsie
Hoerstel is not the woman to cast out the forlorn child." Oh, the pity of
it that she did not know the words of Him who said, "Inasmuch as ye did
it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye did it unto me;" and
again, "Whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth
me." But these words had never yet reached her ears, and as yet it was
only the instincts of a true God-created heart that led her to
compassionate and care for the child lost in the forest.

Taking the babe in her arms, she slipped into bed and soon fell asleep.

CHAPTER III.

FRIDA'S FATHER.

"And though we sorrow for the dead,
Let not our grief be loud,
That we may hear Thy loving voice
Within the light-lined cloud."

Early in the morning, ere wife or children were awake, and long before
the October sun had arisen, Wilhelm Hoerstel arose, and putting a hunch
of black bread and goat-milk cheese into his pocket, he shouldered his
axe and saw and went out into the Forest.

The dawn was beginning to break, and there was light enough for the
practised eye of the wood-cutter to distinguish the path which he wished
to take through the Forest.

Great stillness reigned around; even the twittering of the birds had
hardly begun--they were for the most part awaiting the rising of the
sun, though here and there an early bird might be heard chirping as it
flew off, no doubt in search of food. Even the frogs in the Forest ponds
had not yet resumed their croaking, and only the bubbling of a brooklet
or the falling of a tiny cascade from the rocks (which abound in some
parts of the Forest) was heard. The very silence which pervaded, calmed,
and to a Christian mind would have raised the thoughts Godward. But it
had no such influence on the heart, the kindly heart, of the young
wood-cutter as he walked on, bent only on reaching the small hamlet or
"Dorf" where stood the hut of the man with whom he sought to hold
counsel as to how a search could be i