It was an idle appeal. All three had equally surrendered themselves to
hilarity--unsympathetic, as it was uncontrollable. Fritz had not a
friend on the ground.

Full ten minutes must have elapsed before any of them could check his
loud cachinnations; but long before that time, the butt of their
ridicule had betaken himself out of sight--having moved away from the
spot, where he had been robbed of his supper, and retired, with an
offended and sneaking air, to the more friendly concealment of the
hovel.

It was some time before our adventurers could recover their serious
mood; but the subject of their mirth being now out of their sight, went
gradually also out of their minds.

It might be wondered that, circumstanced as they were, they had thus
given way to a fit of jollity. But, indeed, there was nothing wonderful
about it. On the contrary, it was perfectly natural--perfectly true to
the instincts of the human soul--to be thus stirred: joy and sorrow
following each other in periodic succession--as certainly as day follows
night, or fair weather succeeds to the storm.

Though we know not the why and the wherefore of this, we can easily
believe that a wise Providence has ordered it so. A poet who has sung
sweetly says, that:--

"Spring would be but gloomy weather,
If we had nothing else but Spring;"

and our own experience proclaims the truth conveyed in the distich.

He who has lived in the tropical lands of ever-spring--where the leaves
never fall, and the flowers never fade--can well confirm the fact: that
even spring itself may in time become tiresome! We long for the
winter--its frost and snow, and cold bitter winds. Though ever so
enamoured of the gay green forest, we like at intervals to behold it in
its russet garb, with the sky in its coat of grey, sombre but
picturesque. Strange as it may appear, it is true: the moral, like the
natural atmosphere, stands in need of the storm.

CHAPTER FORTY TWO.

A KITE!

As soon as their mirth had fairly subsided, Karl and Caspar resumed the
conversation, which had been broken off so abruptly.

"And so, brother," said Karl, who was the first to return to the
subject, "you say there is a bird of the eagle genus, that might carry a
rope over the cliff for us. Of what bird are you speaking?"

"Why, Karl, you are dull of comprehension this morning. Surely the
presence of the two _kites_ should have suggested what I mean."

"Ha! you mean a kite, the