'Yes, my son, we must!' said the old man, reprovingly. 'We must believe in the Father's guiding hand, not merely in the sunshine before the gathered sheaves, but also in the tempest which scatters the harvest. Else have we not the true faith. Treasure up this sentiment, even though it comes from the lips of an unlettered catholic. It has been a friendly light to me upon life's weary road, and will continue to cheer me onward to the grave. Now farewell. The morning wind already blows across the graves, and I have yet many preparations to make for my journey. Farewell, and remember me kindly. Should I never see you again upon earth, God grant that we may hereafter meet where the true Shepherd shall gather all his lambs, even those who have here strayed from the flock, into one fold.' He once more shook the youth most cordially by the hand, and then with hasty and vigorous strides left the church-yard. CHAPTER XV. The day appointed for madam Fessel's interment was drawing to a close. A crowd of people had assembled in the parish church-yard, with weeping eyes and pallid faces, awaiting in gloomy silence the arrival of the funeral procession. Two grave-diggers stood leaning upon their spades beside the open grave. The procession came. 'Now for God's sake summon resolution,' said a young Franciscan monk, whose face was almost wholly covered by his cowl, to an elderly rustic woman and a beautiful young peasant boy, whose eyes were almost blinded by their tears, pressing forward with them to a grassy hillock in the vicinity of the grave. A Lichtensteiner who had found himself in the crowd, surprised at the exclamation, placed himself near them and continued to watch their movements narrowly. The mournful hymn of the choristers was now heard approaching. High waved the crucifix upon the church yard gate, shining silvery bright through the evening twilight, and the choristers in double ranks drew slowly toward the grave. After them came the Lutheran preachers, with their heads cast down. Next came the black coffin upon the shoulders of the bearers; upon its appearance the whole assembly broke into loud sobs, and notwithstanding all the efforts of the monk to restrain them, the peasant woman and young man upon the hillock wrung their hands with irrepressible sorrow. After the coffin, came the weeping clerks, apprentices, and household servants. Then followed the bereaved husband, pale and tearless. With each hand he led one of his little daughters, who again each led a brother. To them succeeded, a nursery maid, bearing the little Johannes with his blooming angel face, who smiled upon the crowd and by his happy unconsciousness stirred the hearts of the people even more than the sight of the father and sisters, who followed their best beloved to the grave with a full knowledge of their irreparable loss.