"Yes, true," exclaimed Raschke; "it is all the chicken's fault. Give me the parcel, Gabriel; I must eat the fowl myself; and we might bid each other good-night now with mutual satisfaction, if you would just show me my way a little among these trees." "But you must not go home in the night air without an overcoat," said Gabriel considerately. "We are not far from our house; the best way would really be for you to come back with me, sir." Raschke considered and laughed. "You are right, Gabriel; my departure was awkward; and to-day an animal's soul has restored a man's soul to order." "If you mean this dog," said Gabriel, "it would be the first time he ever did anything good. I see he must have followed you from our door; for I put little bones there for him of an evening." "Just now he seemed not to be quite in his right mind," said the professor. "He is cunning enough when he pleases," continued Gabriel mysteriously; "but if I were to speak of my experiences with this dog--" "Do speak, Gabriel," eagerly exclaimed the philosopher. "There is nothing so valuable concerning animals as a truthful statement from those who have carefully observed them." "I may say that I have done so," confirmed Gabriel, with satisfaction; "and if you want to know exactly what he is, I can assure you that he is possessed of the devil, he is a thief, he is embittered, and he hates all mankind." "Ah, indeed!" replied the professor, somewhat disconcerted. "I see it is much more difficult to look into a dog's heart than into a professor's." Speihahn crept along silent and suppressed, and listened to the praises that fell to his lot; while Professor Raschke, conducted by Gabriel, returned to the house by the park. Gabriel opened the sitting-room door, and announced:-- "Professor Raschke." Ilse extended both her hands to him. "Welcome, welcome, dear Professor Raschke!" and led him to her husband's study. "Here I am again," said Raschke cheerfully, "after wandering as in a fairy tale. What has brought me back were two animals, who showed me the right way,--a roast fowl and an embittered dog." Felix sprang up; the men greeted one another warmly, shaking hands, and after all misadventures, spent a happy evening. When Raschke had gone home late, Gabriel said sadly to his mistress, "This was the new coat; the fowl and the dog have put it in a horrible plight." FRIEDRICH FROEBEL (1782-1852) BY NORA ARCHIBALD SMITH [Illustration: FRIEDRICH FROEBEL]