little Hans. The children had their little
chairs before the fire, and watched the red and yellow flames, while
Louise had already taken out her knitting-work.

They were all very still, for their father seemed sad and troubled,
and the children were wondering what could be the matter. Their mother
looked at them and smiled, but, after all, it was only a sad smile. I
think it is hardest for the father, when he can no longer give to wife
and children their pleasant home; but, if they can be courageous and
happy when they have to give it up, it makes his heart easier and
brighter.

"I must tell the children' to-night," said the father, looking at his
wife, and she answered quite cheerfully: "Yes, tell them; they will
not be sad about it I know."

So the father told to his wondering little ones that he had lost all
his money; the beautiful great house and gardens were no longer his,
and they must all leave their pleasant home near the Rhine, and cross
the great, tossing ocean, to find a new home among the forests or the
prairies.

As you may suppose, the children didn't fully understand this. I
don't think you would yourself. You would be quite delighted with the
packing and moving, and the pleasant journey in the cars, and the new
and strange things you would see on board the ship, and it would be
quite a long time before you could really know what it was to lose
your own dear home.

So the children were not sad; you know their mother said they would
not be. But when they were safely tucked up in their little beds, and
tenderly kissed by the most loving lips, Louise could not go to sleep
for thinking of this strange moving, and wondering what they should
carry, and how long they should stay. For she had herself once been on
a visit to her uncle in the city, carrying her clothes in a new little
square trunk, and riding fifty miles in the cars, and she thought it
would be quite a fine thing that they should all pack up trunks full
of clothing, and go together on even a longer journey.

A letter had been written to tell Christian, and the next day he came
home from the school. His uncles in the city begged him to stay with
them, but the boy said earnestly: "If my father must cross the sea, I
too must go with him."

They waited only for the winter's cold to pass away, and when the
first robins began to sing among the naked trees, they had left the
fine large house,--left the beautiful gardens where the children
use