nts are given into their hands. They
separate the precious lumps of amber from the weeds to which they are
clinging."

Their father stopped to fill his pipe, and the children thought he
had come to the end of the story.

"But you haven't told us yet what amber is," said Bertha.

"Be patient, my little one, and you shall hear," replied her father,
patting her head. "As yet, I have not half told the story. But I
will answer your question at once.

"A long time ago, longer than you can imagine, Bertha, forests were
growing along the shores of the Baltic Sea. There was a great deal
of gum in the trees of these forests. It oozed out of the trees in
the same manner as gum from the spruce-tree and resin from the pine.

"Storms arose, and beds of sand and clay drifted over the forests.
They were buried away for thousands of years, it may be. But the
motion of the sea washes up pieces of the gum, which is of light
weight.

"The gum has become changed while buried in the earth such a long,
long time. Wise men use the word 'fossilized' when they speak of
what has happened to it. The now beautiful, changed gum is called
amber.

"There are different ways of getting it. I told you how it comes
drifting in on the waves when the winds are high and the water is
rough. But on the pleasant summer days, when the sea is smooth and
calm, the men go out a little way from the shore in boats. They
float about, looking earnestly over the sides of the boats to the
bottom of the sea.

"All at once, they see something. Down go their long hooks through
the water. A moment afterward, they begin to tow a tangle of stones
and seaweed to the shore. As soon as they land, they begin to sort
out the great mass. Perhaps they will rejoice in finding large
pieces of amber in the collection.

"There is still another way of getting amber. I know Hans will be
most interested in what I am going to say now. It has more of danger
in it, and boys like to hear anything in the way of adventure."

Hans looked up and smiled. His father knew him well. He was a
daring lad. He was always longing for the time when he should grow
up and be a soldier, and possibly take part in some war.

"Children," their father went on, "you have all heard of divers and
of their dangerous work under the sea. Gretchen was telling me the
other day about her geography lesson, and of the pearl-divers along
the shores of India. I did not tell her then that so