"It was a good saying of hers, Hans; I've never forgotten it, and I have ever called out to any one who was guiding a raft, 'Stick to it.' And what's more, if I have an opportunity, I tell them there is a heavenly Raft to stick to as well as fir-stems, and I say, 'Hold on to the Saviour, forget self, and cling to God's promises in Christ.' "Hans, lad, as a sinking man would hug his raft if any accident upset him in the river, so I beseech you cling to Jesus. Don't forget my words. Now go to your work, and I will rest." Richter closed his eyes wearily when his son left him. "Some day soon I shall fall into the sleep that knows no waking. But when my summons comes, I shall go gladly, and without fear," he murmured. "O Father, for Christ's sake, make my boy true to Thee." The sun set, and yet the sick man slept heavily, nor did he rouse up to take his supper. After young Hans had finished his day's work, he watched his father for some time, and then he too fell into a sound slumber. The morning was breaking when the lad was awakened by hearing his name called. He was in time to catch his father's last words. "I am dying," gasped Richter; "the end has been coming for some time, but I have fast hold of the Raft, Hans; I am not afraid of crossing the river; I hold my Saviour's hand, and He holds mine. I can say truly, 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.' Stick to the Raft, my boy; stick to the Raft." ———————— CHAPTER II. KÖSEN. KÖSEN is a charming little city on the Saale. It lies in a valley surrounded by hills which are well-cultivated and finely wooded. During the summer, the river is thickly studded with rafts made of the trunks of fir-trees, principally cut from the forests about the Fichtel-Gebirge. These rafts are formed by boring holes at the top and bottom of each stem, and fastening them together with twigs. When completed, they are launched on to the river, and the stream carries them down to their destination. "So help me God, I will stick to the Raft," said Hans Richter, when he left the village cemetery about a month after his father's funeral. He had been there to plant forest-flowers on his parent's grave, and to pray. And with a firm step he took the road which led to his old landlady's house. "I have called to bid you good-bye," he said as he entered her cottage and shook her warmly by the hand. "I expect not to return to this part again for at least some years to come." "So I hear," she replied. "You must take a cup of coffee with me this afternoon, and tell me why you are so anxious to leave your old home. The last time I saw you I thought you were inclined to stay in these parts." "I am so lonely without my father, and feel I had rather go to some place where I can learn more and see more. I mean to try and get some work to do at Kösen."