TRIALS OF THE EMIGRANT SCHOOL-BOY. 99

expected this news, no one knew what to say. At last
the smallest boy, Frank Shaw, looked‘ up in Carl’s face,
and said, “Carl, it will never do; we can’t let you go.
What can we do to keep you? Can’t we write a long
letter to Mr. Snakebug, and get him to let you stay ?”

“ Schneckenburg is my uncle’s name,” said Carl, with
a smile; “but his mind is made up, and he has good
reasons for what he does.”

“What reasons?” asked Frank, eagerly ; but the
other boys prevented a reply.

“ Never mind about the reasons,” said Merriman ;
“T hope something will turn up to change your uncle’s
purpose. But who are these horsemen ?”’

As he spoke, Dr. Newman rode up, in company with
Mr. Barry. They had been riding out to the neighbour-
ing village, and now paused to chat a few minutes with
the boys. This broke up the conversation for a moment.
The group was dispersed, and presently no one was left
on the bank but Carl, who waited a few moments, and
then began, with a sweet, touching voice, to sing a little
German song, beginning,—

‘* Kennst du das land, wo die citronem bluhn?” *

Presently he walked slowly along the forest-path
leading back to the Oaks. Why did he so often pause

under the green branches? Why did he reverently
lift his cap, and look upwards? Why did the drops

* GoETHE.—Know'st thou the land where the citron blooms?