and you must now keep your word.'

'Children are the most inexorable creditors,' said Fessel, directing
little Ulrich to bring the writing materials from the counting-room,
while the table was being cleared.

'This is a strange remnant of the old heathen times,' explained Fessel
to the book-keeper, who looked inquiringly at him. 'It is a form of new
year's congratulation, and an oracle at the same time. You write three
several wishes upon three slips of paper, which you fold and give to
the person who would try his fate. These wishes may be, honors, offices
and success in business, to the men,--chains, bracelets, and new
dresses, to the women,--agreeable suitors to maidens. All place the
notes they have received under their pillows, and the wish contained in
the one which is first opened on new year's morning shall be fulfilled
in the course of the current year.'

'I always take great pleasure in this sport,' said Katharine to her
mother; 'my husband is always so anxious to fulfil his oracle and to
present me what is wished me in the note I open.'

'There comes Ulrich!' screamed the children, as he entered, heavily
laden, and deposited his burden upon the table. The notes were
prepared, and the whole family were soon seated around the table,
moving their pens as assiduously as if an instrument was to be drawn
for securing religious liberty. Amidst the scratching of the pens,
which were very awkwardly handled by the younger children, and
therefore made the more noise, arose the admonitions of the father to
sit erect, and of the mother not to bespatter themselves with ink;
which admonitions were obeyed just so long as they were heard.
Meanwhile Dorn was sharply watching the paper upon which Faith was
writing; who, as soon as she became aware of it, covered the writing
with her little hand and whispered to him: 'If you watch me, you will
get no packet from me to-night.' He discreetly drew back and began
writing his notes.

Fessel now strewed sand upon his last note, enclosed it with the others
and gave the packet with a kiss to his Katharine. The children snapped
their pens to the infinite damage of the well scoured white floor, for
which their grandmother very properly scolded them. Dorn handed his
packet to the beauteous Faith, who hid hers in her bosom, strenuously
asserting that she could think of nothing to write.

The clock now struck the midnight hour, and a peal of bells from the
tower of the city hall gre