"That is more than you or I know, my boy, and is moreover highly improbable. We are certainly not intruding on anybody's privacy; but we have no right even here to leave things worse than we found them?" "And we have got to lug all this trash down to the river again?" "What do you think?" Fenton thought it was "no end of a bore;" nobody else, however, did anything but laugh at him. After the oysters were all disposed of, the oyster-shells went back into the bag, ready for transportation; Fenton remarking with great disgust that they were just as heavy and took up more room than before. Egg-shells and potato-skins were swept up; cups packed away; coffee and teapot restored to the basket; hands washed; and finally the group gathered again on their couch of pine branches to enjoy every minute. They had a good space of time left them still, and the day promised to finish its fair course without change, except change of beauty. Fenton joined the group now, having nothing to do, and hopeless of inducing them to break up before the last possible minute. "What are you going to give us this afternoon, Meredith?" Mr. Murray asked. "I have been keeping it, sir; one of my best; a story out of the Thirty Years' War. Shall I read?" "By all means." "'In the parish of Hermannsburg there is a forest-house, situated about an hour and a half from the church village; the place is called Queloh, and it lies in the midst of the forest. On the other side, about a quarter of an hour further on is a beautiful beech wood, which goes by the name of Buchhorst. In old times this place was inhabited by two peasants who belonged to the wide-spread peasant family of Weesen. The name of the one was Drewes, and of the other Hinz. They were both good and God-fearing men, and with their whole hearts devoted to the dear Lutheran church. Those were the times of the Thirty Years' War in which they lived, and they had to bear their share in all the distresses which that miserable war brought with it; they bore it also willingly, for the Lord's sake.