by the road he took was not well known to him, and the solemn
quiet which pervaded it struck him much and raised his thoughts to God.
It was as if he had entered the sanctuary and heard the voice of the
Lord speaking to him. It was, as a poet has expressed it, as if

"Solemn and silent everywhere,
The trees with folded hands stood there,
Kneeling at their evening prayer."

Only the slight murmuring of the breeze amongst the leaves, or the
flutter of a bird's wing as it flew from branch to branch, broke the
silence. All around him there was

"A slumberous sound, a sound that brings
The feeling of a dream,
As when a bell no longer swings,
Faint the hollow echo rings
O'er meadow, lake, and stream."

As he walked, he thought much of the child found in the Forest, and he
wondered how he could help her or find out to whom she belonged. Oh, if
only, he said to himself, he had been able to speak to the father the
day he had seen him, and learned something of his history! Johann had
told him that if no clue could be found to the child's relations,
Wilhelm Hoerstel had determined to bring her up; but Johann had added,
"We will not, poor though we be, let the whole expense of her upbringing
fall on the Hoerstels. No; we will go share for share, and she shall be
called the child of the wood-cutters."

As he thought of these words, the young pastor prayed for the kind,
large-hearted men, asking that the knowledge of the loving Christ might
shine into their hearts and bring spiritual light into the darkness
which surrounded them. The afternoon had merged into evening ere he
entered the wood-cutters' Dorf. As he neared Johann's hut, Gretchen came
to the door, and he greeted her with the words, "The Lord be with you,
and bless you for your kindness to the poor man in the time of his
need."

"Come in, sir," she said, "and see the corpse. Oh, but he's been a
fine-looking man, and he so young too. It was a sight to see his bit
child crying beside him and begging him to say one word to her--just one
word. Then she folded her hands, and looking up said, 'O kind Jesus, who
made Lazarus come to life, make dear fader live again.' Oh, 'twas
pitiful to see her! Who think you, sir, was the man she spoke of called
Lazarus? When I asked her she said it was all written in her little
brown book, which she would bring along and read to me some day, bless
the little creature."

The pastor said some