On their little heaps of straw, brother and sister slept soundly in each other’s arms; and if the hooting of an owl chanced to wake them, some bright star looked in with friendly eye, through chinks in the walls, and said, “Go to sleep, little ones; for all little children are dear to the good God.” Thus, with scanty food and coarse clothes, plenty of pure air and blue sky, Fritz and his sister went hand in hand over their rugged but flower-strewn path of life, till he was nearly seven years old. Then came Uncle Heinrich, his mother’s brother, and said the boy could be useful to him at the mill, where he worked; and if the parents were willing to bind him to his service, he would supply him with food and clothing, and give him an outfit when he came of age. Tears were in Liesbet’s eyes; for she thought how lonely it would seem to her and little Gretchen, when they should no longer hear Fritz mocking the birds, or singing aloud to the high heaven. But they were very poor, and the child must earn his bread. So, with much sorrow to part with father and mother, and Gretchen, the goat and the stork, and with some gladness to go to new scenes, Fritz departed from the old nest that had served him for a home. Mounted with Uncle Heinrich, on the miller’s donkey, he ambled along through rocky paths, by deep ravines and castle-crowned hills, with here and there glimpses of the noble river, flowing on, bright and strong, reflecting images of spires, cottages, and vine-covered slopes. When he arrived at his new home, the good grandmother gave him right friendly welcome, and promised to set up on her knitting-needles a striped blue cap for him to wear. Uncle Heinrich was kind, in his rough way; but he thought it an excellent plan for boys to eat little and work hard. Fritz, remembering the blossom-carpet of the old castle, was always delighted to spy a clump of flowers. His uncle told him they looked well enough, but he wondered anybody should ever plant them, since they were not useful either to eat or wear; and that when he grew older, he would doubtless think more of pence than posies. Thus the child began to be ashamed, as of something wrong, when he was caught digging a flower. But his laborious and economical relative taught him many orderly and thrifty ways, which afterward had great influence on his success in life; and fortunately a love for the beautiful could not be pressed out of him. Kind, all-embracing Nature took him in her arms, and whispered many things to preserve him from becoming a mere animal. All day long he was hard at work; but the blossoming tree was his friend, and the bright little mill-stream chatted cozily, and smiled when the good grandmother gave it his clothes to wash. The miller’s donkey, ambling along through sun-lighted paths over the hills, was a picture to him. From his small garret window he could see the mill-wheel scattering bright drops in the moonlight; and