gray old age with honor. Next to him I must thank my old master for
all these blessings, who long since was gathered to his fathers, and of
whom I never can think without tears. He was a man of the old school,
after God's own heart. He was gifted with deep penetration, yet
childlike and humble in every action. Through his means mining has
become in high repute, and has helped the duke of Bohemia to immense
treasures. The whole region has become by its influence settled and
prosperous, and is now a blooming land. All the miners honored him as a
father, and as long as Eula stands, his name will be mentioned with
emotion and gratitude. His name was Werner, and he was a Lausatian by
birth. His only daughter was a mere child when I came to his house. My
industry, faithfulness, and devoted attachment daily won his affection.
He gave me his name and adopted me as his son. The little girl grew to
be an open-hearted, merry creature, whose countenance was as
beautifully clear and pure as her own mind. The old man, when he saw
that she was attached to me, that I loved to play with her, and that I
could never cease gazing at her eyes, which were as blue and open as
heaven and glittering as crystal, often told me that when I became a
worthy miner, he would not refuse her to me. He kept his word. The day
I became hewer he laid his hands upon us, blessed us as bride and
bridegroom, and a few weeks afterward I called her my wife. Early on
that day, although a mere apprentice, I struck upon a rich vein. The
Duke sent me a golden chain, with his likeness engraven on a large
medallion, and promised me the office of my father-in-law. How happy
was I when on my marriage day I hung the chain around the neck of my
bride, and the eyes of all were turned upon her. Our old father lived
to see some merry grand-children, and his declining years were more
joyous than he had ever anticipated. With joy could he finish his task,
and fare forth from the dark mine of this world, to rest in peace, and
await the final day.

"Sir," said the old man, as he turned his gaze upon Henry, and wiped
some tears from his eyes, "it must be that mining is blessed by God;
for there is no art, which renders those who are occupied in it happier
and nobler, which awakens a deeper faith in divine wisdom and guidance,
or which preserves the innocence and childlike simplicity of the heart
more freshly. Poor is the miner born, and poor he departs again. He is
satisfied with