ued thoughtfully, and
ascended some hundred feet higher till he gained the top of the
mountain. The tall trees ceased; a variegated copsewood crowned the
summit, which formed a kind of platform. Human hands had levelled the
ground, and on the moss that covered it grew modest little violets.
Near the border of the platform stood a stone cross of rough material.
Near this cross lay the fragments of another large rock, that might
have been shattered by lightning years before. A few steps back of
this, on two square blocks of stone, stood a statue of the Virgin and
Child, of white stone very carefully wrought, but without much art. The
Virgin had a crown of roses on her head. The Child held a little bunch
of forget-me-nots in its hand, and as it held them out seemed to say,
"Forget me not." Two heavy vases that could not be easily overturned by
the wind, standing on the upper block, also contained flowers. All
these flowers were quite fresh, as if they had just been placed there.

Richard examined these things, and wondered what they, meant in this
solitude of the mountain. The fresh flowers and the cleanliness of the
statue, on which no dust or moss could be seen, indicated a careful
keeper. He thought of the young woman whom he met. He had seen the same
kind of flowers in her hand, and doubtless she was the devotee of the
place.

Scarcely had his thoughts taken this direction when he turned away and
walked to the border of the plot; and gazed at the country before him.
He looked down toward Frankenhoehe, whose white chimneys appeared above
the chestnut grove. He contemplated the plains with their luxuriant
fields reflecting every shade of green--the strips of forests that lay
like shadows in the sunny plain--numberless hamlets with church towers
whose gilded crosses gleamed in the sun. He gazed in the distance where
the mountain ranges vanished in the mist, and long he enjoyed the
magnificence of the view. He was aroused from his dreamy contemplation
by the sound of footsteps behind him.

An old man with a load of wood on his shoulders came up to the place.
Breathing heavily, he threw down the wood and wiped the sweat from his
face. He saw the stranger, and respectfully touched his cap as he sat
down on the wood.

Frank went to him.

"You are from Salingen, I suppose," he began.

"Yes, sir."

"It is very hard for an old man like you to carry such a load so far."

"It is indeed, but I am poor and must do it."