The boy kissed his hand, stooped his head toward him, and said—in a clear voice— “Many thanks, tall Jan.” A clap of thunder could not have so startled the traveler as his own name thus pronounced by the innocent child. Tears started involuntarily from his eyes: he lifted the boy upon his knee, and now gazed deeply into his face. “So, dost thou know me, thou blessed angel! me, whom thou never saw’st before! Who taught thee my name?” “Blind Rosa,” was the answer. “But how is it possible that thou hast known me? It must be God himself who has enlightened thy childish mind.” “O, I know you very well,” said Peterken. “When I lead Rosa about to beg, she always talks of you. She says that you are tall, and have dark, fiery eyes; and that you will come back again, and bring us all such beautiful things. And so I was not afraid of you, good sir; for Rosa had bade me to love you, and you are to give me a bow and arrow.” The child’s simple confidence made the traveler perfectly happy. He kissed him hastily, and with tenderness, and said in a solemn tone— “Father—mother—this child is rich! I will bring him up and educate him, and richly endow him. It shall be a blessing to him to have recognized me!” Joy and amazement overwhelmed the parents. The man stammered forth— “Ah! you are too good. We, ourselves, thought that we knew you, but we were not so certain of it, because Rosa told us that you were not so rich a gentleman.” “And you, too, knew me, my good people!” exclaimed the traveler. “I find myself amongst friends. Here I have relations and a family . . . while hitherto I have only found death and forgetfulness!” The wife pointed to a smoky image of the Virgin, which stood upon the chimney-piece, and said— “Here, every Saturday evening, burns a light for the return of Jan Slaets, or for the repose of his soul!” The traveler directed his eyes in devotion toward heaven, and with a voice full of emotion, said— “Thanks be to thee, O God, rich in love, that thou hast made affection more powerful than hate! My enemy has shut my name within his heart, with the dark feeling of his spite; but my friend has lived in memory of me, has inspired all around her with her love, has kept me here present, and made me the favorite of this child, while eighteen hundred miles separated me from her. O God be praised, I am rewarded to the full.” A long silence followed before Jan Slaets could subdue his emotion, which inspired the people of the house with respect. The husband returned to his work; but held himself ready to hasten to the service of his guest. He, with little Peterken still upon his knee, asked quite calmly— “Good mother, has Rosa lived long with you?” The wife—as if preparing herself for a long explanation—took her wheel, set it by his side, and began—