brings luck.'"

Every story-teller should respect those who like to hear a tale to its
very end. The only way he can evince his gratitude for their patience is
by gratifying all their curiosity. It remains for me, then, to say, that
Fritz returned to the little village where he had lived with Star for
his companion; not poor and friendless as before, but rich in wealth,
and richer in what is far better--the grateful love and affection
of kind friends. His life henceforth was one of calm and tranquil
happiness. By his aid the old Bauer was enabled to purchase his little
farm rent-free, and buy besides several cows and some sheep. And then,
when he grew up to be a man, Fritz married Grett'la, and they became
very well off, and lived in mutual love and contentment all their lives.

Fritz's house was not only the handsomest in the Dorf, but it was
ornamented with a little picture of the Virgin, with Star sitting upon
her wrist, and the words of the golden letters were inscribed beneath,--

"Maria, Mutter Gottes, huelf uns!"

Within, nothing could be more comfortable than to see Fritz and Grett'la
at one side of the fire, and the old Bauer reading aloud, and the "Frau"
listening, and Star, who lived to a great age, walking proudly about,
as if he was conscious that he had some share in producing the family
prosperity; and close to the stove, on a little low seat made on
purpose, sat a little old man, with a long pigtail and very shrunken
legs: this was old Cristoph the postilion--and who had a better right?

Fritz was so much loved and respected by the villagers, that they
elected him Vorsteher, or rector of the Dorf; and when he died--very old
at last--they all, several hundreds, followed him respectfully to the
grave, and, in memory of his story, called the village Maria Huelf, which
is its name to this day.

CHAPTER III.

_Varenna, Lake of Como_.

Italy at last! I have crossed the Alps and reached my goal, and now I
turn and look at that winding road which, for above two thousand feet,
traverses the steep mountain-side, and involuntarily a sadness steals
over me--that I am never to re-cross it! These same "last-times"
are very sorrowful things, all emblems as they are of that one great
"last-time" when the curtain falls for ever! Nor am I sorry when
this feeling impresses me deeply; nay, I am pleased that
indifference--apathy--have no more hold upon me. I am more afraid of
that careless, passionless t