emselves in their native town till they have
travelled and lived in other places; thus learning, as it is supposed,
whatever improvements their several crafts may have obtained in
different and distant cities. These wanderings, which are usually for
one year or two, are accomplished during the period of apprenticeship;
so that you never travel on any of the high-roads without meeting these
Lehr-Junkers, as they are called, who, with a knapsack on their back,
and a spare pair of boots or two depending from it, are either smoking
or singing to beguile the way. As it is not to be supposed that they
are over-abundantly provided with means, it has grown into a recognised
custom to assist them with some trifle: but the good habit ends not
here; it extends to the poor boy returning from the gymnasium, or
school, to see his parents--the discharged or furloughed soldier--the
wayfarer of every class, in fact, whose condition pleads to those more
plenteously endowed than himself.

Fritz was now to reap the benefit of this graceful charity; and scarcely
had his wan features appeared at the window, than a sign from the chief
Bauer invited him to partake. Happily for poor Fritz--happily for all
who give and all who accept such aid--there is no sense of humiliation
in doing so. It is, in fact, less an alms-giving than a remnant of
the ancient hospitality which made the stranger welcome beneath every
roof--a custom that dates before rail-roads and giant hotels.

Fritz ate and drank, and was thankful. The few words he spoke were in
answer to the common questions, as to whence he came--and whither he was
going--and what was his handicraft; inquiries which puzzled him sorely
to reply to. His hesitations were not rendered more embarrassing by the
curiosity of his questioners; they neither cared to push him closely,
nor troubled their heads upon the matter.

"Farewell," said the Bauer's wife, as he thanked her gratefully;
"farewell. Be good and pious, young lad; don't keep naughty company, nor
learn bad ways; and remember 'A good word brings luck.'"

His eyes filled up with tears as she spoke. Who can tell the conflict of
feelings they called up in his bosom?

"Where does this path lead to?" he asked, in a faint voice*

"To Reute, child."

"And then, after Rente?"

"To Zillerthal and Inspruck."

"To Inspruck!" said Fritz, while a sudden hope shot through him. "I'll
go to Inspruck," muttered he, lower. "Good-by, Bauer; good-by, Fra