FRIENDS OF THE STRANGER. 133

float at the end of his line, as ever did the most
accomplished disciple of Isaac Walton the ripples of
the shady pool from which he hoped to tempt the
trout with his fly.

“Come in, Carl,” said Mary, shortly after, “come-in,
and taste some of our grapes;” and she handed him a
fine cluster. “Did you ever see any so fine?”

Carl thanked her, but smiled.

“Ah, Carl, do you pretend to think you have ever
seen finer?” |

“Ah! my dear young miss, if I should tell you all
the thoughts I have about our vineyards, and about
my shady home by the banks of the Rhine, the tears
would run down my cheeks. But you have taught
me that I can be happy here too; for here I have
found friends.”

“Better these than Rhine-vines!” cried the farmer
in his gruff but hearty voice; for he had overheard
the conversation. |

“Oh, yes, sir!” said Carl, ‘better than all the vines,
rocks, and rivers in all Germany; but not—but not
better than—”

“Than what?” said the farmer. “Speak it out, my
Jad.”

Carl did not finish his sentence; and a tear was in
his eye. So, to draw off attention, he seized an old
guitar of Mary’s and struck up a little innocent German ©

ballad.