"God send that Franz Creussen may ever want help as little as he needs it now," answered the stout smith; "and God send he may ever be as able and as willing to lend it to those who deserve it, Master Ferdinand. I know not which would be the greatest curse, to be unwilling though able, or to be willing and yet unable, to aid a good fellow-creature in his need. The first, methinks; for though in the latter case one might feel much pain, in the former one would have no pleasure. But it is not gratitude or service in return, one works for. One hammers iron for pay; but one does not do what is kind for recompense of any sort. On the contrary, I think one takes a greater pleasure in serving a person who can never repay it, especially when one has served him before. Now I have had a kindness for you from your boyhood. Do you remember when you used to come to me from the Abbey to give you fishing lines to catch the poor shining fellows out of the stream--the White fish and the May fish? A little curly-headed urchin you were then, as wild as a young roe deer, but not half so timid." "I remember it well, Franz," replied Ferdinand, "those were happy days, and I shall never forget them. You were always very kind to me, and I believe used to spoil me, and do everything I asked you." "Not a whit, not a whit," cried the smith. "I pitched you into the river once when you were over wilful, just to cool your fire; and then I pulled you out again, and laughed at you, which did you more good than the wetting.--But that was a long time ago--you were just six years old then." "I recollect it well," answered the young gentleman, "and it served me right. I have never failed to think of it when I have felt inclined to give way to angry impatience. It was just by the mill pond." "Ay, your memory is good," said the smith, "can you remember anything before that?" "Oh, yes," replied Ferdinand, after a moment's thought; "I can recollect many things that happened at the Abbey. I can remember, when the Abbot Waldimer died, the great bell tolling, and how hard it was for Father George to teach me to read and write." "Ay, but before that?" asked Franz Creussen. "Can you recall any other place, before you were at the Abbey?"