there.  Carl waited a moment, and then
determined to follow her, and entreat her to
believe in his innocence before he departed.
He lifted the latch and entered the house,
passing through the kitchen into the yard;
but Margaret was not there. He went into
the workshop and found himself alone there;
for the workmen had not come yet, and
Margaret was the first person up in the
house. His misfortunes, and the injustice
he had experienced, came into his mind, as if
some voice were whispering in his ear: the
whole world seemed to be against him. "I
cannot bear this," he said, "I must die!"

He unlatched the wooden bar, and threw
open the doors, letting the light of day into
the dusky shop. It was a clear fresh morning;
and the river, brimming with the rains of
the day before, flowed on, smooth and flush
to the edge. "Of all my hopes, my patience,
my industry, my long sufferings, and my deep
love for Margaret, behold the miserable end!"
said Carl.

But he stopped suddenly; his eye had
caught some object, in between the birch
stakes and the bank. "Strange," he said, "It
is a mallet, and much like the one I lost!
Some of Jacob Elsen's workmen have dropped
a mallet here, surely." But it was larger
than an ordinary mallet, and, though it was
madness to fancy so, he thought that some
supernatural power had brought his mallet
there, in time to turn him from his purpose.
"It is my mallet!" he cried; for by stooping
down he could see the mark of the hole he
had plugged. He did not wait to take it up,
it being safe for awhile where it was: he
ran back into the house, and met Jacob Elsen
descending the stairs.

"I have found my mallet," said Carl;
"Where is Margaret?"

The tun-maker looked incredulous. Margaret
heard his call, and came down stairs.

"This way!" said Carl, leading them
through the shop. " Look there! " Both
Margaret and her father saw it. Carl
stooped and picked it up, and, taking the plug
out, shook all the gold pieces on the ground.
Jacob shook his hand, and begged him to
pardon him for his unjust suspicions; and
Margaret wept tears of joy. "It came just
in time to save my life," said Carl. "Happy
days will come with it."

"But, how did this mallet arrive here?"
said Jacob, pondering.

"I guess," replied Carl, "I have found the
origin of the Klar. The two rivers are, in
truth, but one."

Carl wrote the story of his adventures, and
presented it to the Town Council, who
employed all the scholars in Stromthal to
prove by experiments the identity of the two
rivers. When they had done this, there was
great rejoicing in the town. On the day
when Carl married Margaret, he received the
promised reward of five hundred gold gulden;
and thenceforth the day on which he found
his mallet was set apart for a festival by the
inhabitants of all the towns, both on the
"Geber " and the "Klar."

THE OLD NURSE'S STORY.

You know, my dears, that your mother
was an orphan, and an only child; and I
dare say you have heard that your
grandfather was a clergyman up in Westmoreland,
where I come from. I was just a girl in the
village school, when, one day, your grandmother
came in to ask the mistress if there
was any scholar there who would do for a
nurse-maid; and mighty proud I was, I can
tell ye, when the mistress called me up, and
spoke to my being a good girl at my needle, and
a steady honest girl, and one whose parents
were very respectable, though they might be
poor. I thought I should like nothing better
than to serve the pretty young lady, who was
blushing as deep as I was, as she spoke of the
coming baby, and what I should have to do
with it. However, I see you don't care so
much for this part of my story, as for what
you think is to come, so I'll tell you at once
I was engaged, and settled at the parsonage
before Miss Rosamond (that was the baby,
who is now your mother) was born. To be
sure, I had little enough to do with her when
she came, for she was never out of her
mother's arms, and slept by her all night
long; and proud enough was I sometimes
when missis trusted her to me. There never
was such a baby before or since, though
you've all of you been fine enough in your
turns; but for sweet winning ways, you've
none of you come up to your mother. She
took after her mother, who was a real lady
born; a Miss Furnivall, a granddaughter of
Lord Furnivall's in Northumberland. I
believe she had neither brother nor sister,
and had been brought up in my lord's family
till she had married your grandfather, who
was just a curate, son to a shopkeeper in
Carlisle— but a clever fine gentleman as ever
was and one who was a right-down hard
worker in his parish, which was very wide,
and scattered all abroad over the Westmoreland
Fells. When your mother, little Miss
Rosamoud, was about four or five years old,
both her parents died in a fortnight— one
after the other. Ah! that was a sad time.
My pretty young mistress and me was looking
for another baby, when my master came
home from one of his long rides, wet and
tired, and took the fever he died of; and
then she never held up her head again, but
just lived to see her dead baby, and have it
laid on her breast before she sighed away
her life. My mistress had asked me, on her
death-bed, never to leave Miss Rosamond; but
if she had never spoken a word, I would have
gone with the little child to the end of the
world.

The next thing, and before we had well
stilled our sobs, the executors and guardians