It was easier said than done, for when he got to the trees he had to take off his snowshoes and shin up. The huge trunk was hard to grapple, but he managed it, and after about 20 minutes had two fine specimens. But when Dietrich was safe on the ground again the sun had set, there were only a few golden clouds floating on the horizon, and the light was waning fast. “Oh, beloved Heaven! We must hasten wind-fast” (literal translation), exclaimed he, and, when he reached Hans, “Get up, old fellow!” Hans got up, and they started home by moonlight. Now there happened to be a devil on that mountain—the devil of ignorance—and, of all that he hated, professor and students he abhorred most; for did not they forward learning more than any one? Hearing these students talking he gathered—being a German devil, and so understanding them—that they were students, and that they were going to forward his enemy, Learning, by giving some pine-boughs off his mountain to a hated professor. “This must not be!” he stormed; so he took hold of the heels of Dietrich’s snow shoes, and putting his tail round Hans’ waist, for every step they took he pulled them back three; so they went backwards towards his cave. Now Hans wore spectacles, and he saw what the devil was doing, reflected in them. He told Dietrich, in Latin, what went on, and the devil, being very ignorant did not understand. So they figured out by geometry that if they turned round and walked the other way they would get shelter even sooner than before. They carried out this plan so scientifically that the devil, being also very unperceptive, did not find out how they were fooling him, until he saw the farmhouse lights. Then, being very much frightened he let go of the students and fled shrieking and howling up the mountain. That was the last they ever saw of him—which they did not regret. When the students went back to the university, they triumphantly gave the pine-boughs to the professor. Goodness knows how the young person who wrote that story got it into her head that one is justified in tricking even the good old-fashioned Nick with his horns and hoofs, for any purpose whatever. Myself I disclaim any responsibility for the morality involved. But this I will say that if trickery and “lying low” of any kind is ever justified, or (I may rather say) not much noticed by the recording angel, it must be when they are brought to bear on the very Evil Spirit which grudges to any race the attainment of more knowledge and a higher civilization than that to which their ancestors, near or remote had arrived. KELT-NOR. HIS LESSON IN ARITHMETIC. (By Carolyn Schlesinger.) Orville Wright, the flying machine man, told a reporter this story: