'Thank God we are finally here!' remarked madam Rosen, reaching her goblet of Hungary wine to the book-keeper, for the purpose of touching his glass. 'My best thanks,' said she with emotion, and at the same time gave an intimation to Faith to follow her example. 'Thank me not so much, dear madam,' said the youth with a pensive air, while touching glasses with the blushing maiden; 'else I shall have my whole reward in thanks.' 'And in consequence lose the courage to ask for a dearer one,' jested Katharine, who had noticed the glance he gave her sister. 'We are so merry to-night!' cried Fessel's youngest daughter, the little Hedwig, 'cannot you let us have the play of the light boats now, dear mother? You promised it to us on Christmas eve; which, by the by, was passed sadly enough.' 'Yes, yes, the light boats!' shouted the other children, clapping their hands. 'Well, bring the large soup-dish,' said the mother, who could refuse nothing to her youngest daughter; 'but be careful not to spill the water.' 'Glorious, excellent!' cried the children in chorus. Hedwig flew out of the room; the other children produced wax candles of various colors, and began cutting them into innumerable small pieces; while Faith, Dorn, and young Engelmann, were instructed to divide the walnuts, of which the table famished an abundant supply, in halves, and neatly to extricate the kernels without injuring the shells. 'I know not if you are acquainted with this play of the Silesian children,' said Fessel, laughing, to Dorn. 'It was omitted by us last year, in consequence of my wife's illness. It is a solemn oracle upon matters of love, marriage, and death. The children, however, do not trouble themselves about the serious signification; but only take pleasure in the movements of the boats and in splashing the water.' The door now opened, and little Hedwig stepped into the room, with the large dish full of water in her hands, with a solemn and consequential air, and deposited her burden upon the centre of the table. 'Now put the lights in the boats,' commanded Martin; 'we have prepared enough of them.' A small wax taper was placed in each shell, projecting like the mast of a boat. 'Who shall swim first?' asked Elizabeth, lighting the tapers in two of the boats. 'Mother and father!' cried the others, and the shells were placed in the platter near each other, when they moved forth upon the clear liquid surface with a regular motion, and burning with a steady light, until they reached the opposite side where they quietly remained. 'We are already anchored in a safe haven,' said Fessel to his beloved wife; 'and in the quiet enjoyment of domestic happiness, we can have no wish to be restlessly driving about upon the open seas.' 'Ah, may God grant that the troubles of the times reach us not in our safe haven and rend our bark from its fast anchorage,' cried the true-hearted Katharine with timid foreboding.