parents, were reconciled to his change
of pursuits. It is strange how easily people are satisfied with their
friends the moment they pay their own expenses.

Nat presented Ivo with the saw-mill, where he now worked to his heart's
content, in company with his Emmerence. Often of an evening he sits
under the walnut-tree and plays his bugle, which fills the valley with
its melody. Far around, at the isolated farm-houses, the boys and girls
stand in the moonshine listening to the plaintive tones. Emmerence once
drew Ivo's attention to this; and he said, "You see, music is an emblem
of human life as it should be. I play for our own satisfaction; and yet
if I know that the sounds gladden the hearts of other men also, I am
still better pleased, and play with more life and spirit. Let every man
attend to his own business well, and he will help others too, and make
them happy. I am not disinterested enough to be satisfied with playing
tunes for other people to dance by. I like to dance myself."

"Yes," said Emmerence: "you are a learned man, and yet I understand
you. When the boys used to sing while gathering fir-nuts in the Neckar
valley, I always thought, 'Well, they sing for themselves; and yet it
makes me happy to hear them too, and every one who has ears;' and so do
the birds sing for themselves, and yet we are delighted; and if every
one sings his part well in church it all chords well together, and is
beautiful."

Ivo embraced his Emmerence with transport.

"If only winter never came here," she said; "for it is rather
solitary."

"Well, in winter you must come and live with me," said the well-known
voice of Nat.

FLORIAN AND CRESCENCE.

1.
THE GIRLS AT THE WELL.

[Illustration: The Red Tailor.]

On Saturday afternoon the house of the Red Tailor was alive with
singing. Doors were opened and closed with a bang, windows thrown up,
chairs and tables moved here and there, and the broom rattled among the
lifeless bones; but over all was heard a rich, full, female voice,
travelling up and down stairs, into rooms and out of passages. Song
followed hard upon song, grave and gay meeting with equal favor. At
last the singer was forthcoming,--a girl of stout proportions but the
utmost symmetry of form. A jacket of knitted gray yarn set off the
swelling outlines to the best advantage: one corner of the apron was
tucked up and