people, Fritz and Eric were both too anxious to get home to Lubeck to
prolong their stay in the States any longer than was absolutely
necessary; so, as soon as the worthy skipper had managed to convert
their stock of sealskins and oil into hard cash--getting the weighty and
old-fashioned doubloons exchanged for a valuable banker's draft, save
one or two which they kept for curiosity's sake--the pair were off and
away again on their way back to Europe by the next--starting North
German steamer from New York.

Before setting out, however, Eric promised to return to Providence ere
the following "fall," in time to resume his post of third mate of the
_Pilot's Bride_ before she started again on another whaling voyage to
the southern seas.

One more scene, and the story of "The Brother Crusoes" will be "as a
tale that is told!"

It is Christmas Eve again at Lubeck.

The streets as well as the roofs and exteriors of the houses are covered
with snow, exhibiting without every appearance of a hard winter; while,
within, the interiors are filled with bustling folk, busy with all the
myriad and manifold preparations for the coming festival on the morrow.

Mirth, music, and merry-making are everywhere apparent.

In the little old-fashioned house in the Gulden Strasse, where Fritz and
Eric were first introduced to the readers notice, these cheery signs of
the festive season are even more prominently displayed than usual; for,
are not the long-absent wanderers expected back beneath the old roof-
tree once more, and is not their coming anticipated at every hour--nay,
almost at any moment?

Aye!

Madame Dort is sitting in her accustomed corner of the stove. She is
looking ever so much better in health and younger in appearance than she
was at the time of that sad celebration of the Christmas anniversary
three years ago, detailed in an early chapter of the story; and there is
a smile of happiness and content beaming over her face.

The good lady of the house is pretending to be darning a pair of
stockings, which she has taken up to keep her fingers busy; but every
now and then, she lets the work drop from her hands on to her knees, and
looks round the room, as if listening and waiting for some one who will
soon be here.

Madaleine, prettier than ever, clad in a gala dress and with bright
ribbons in her golden hair, while her rosebud lips are half parted and
her blue eyes dancing with joy and excitement, is pacing up and do