The shoemaker made a motion with his head which might pass either for a nod or a shake, and turned away. He did not care to engage in a whispering conversation under the bright, earnest eyes which looked down from the pulpit. Herr Franck drew himself up with offended dignity, took a large pinch of snuff, and prepared himself to be critical in respect to style and watchful for unsound doctrine. Nobody else cared to be critical. Brother Gotthold was well known through all the neighbourhood, and a good many glances of congratulation were exchanged. Even Herr Franck could find no fault with the way he went through the opening services. He took for his text the first verses of the fourteenth chapter of John. "Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. "In my Father's house are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for you." The discourse was so simple that little Gustaf could understand every word, but it held the attention of the listeners wonderfully. Fat old Farmer Fuchstein, who had regularly slept through every sermon he had attended for over thirty years, kept wide awake all through, and wiped his eyes more than once. The sermon was upon the consolations of the gospel for the bereaved, for the suffering, for the penitent. Many a head was bowed and many an eye dim with tears as the preacher alluded tenderly to those whose friends were far away across the sea; and when he reminded his hearers that the eternal rest was as near in America as in Germany, and that no man could go beyond the reach of his Father's love and protection, there was a universal burst of sobs. Count Maurice himself listened with evident and deep interest; and as for Count Victor, he never took his eyes from the preacher's face. There was a general sigh when the sermon was concluded and the people gathered in the churchyard. "Call that a sermon?" said Herr Franck. "Where was the deep divinity, the Greek and Latin, and the fine, long, rolling sentences of our doctor? Why, a child could understand every word. I dare say even silly Hans knows what it was about.—Here, Hans, tell me what the minister talked about." "About heaven," answered the simpleton readily—"the good place where the angels live and there are no schoolmasters." "Good boy!" exclaimed Farmer Fuchstein, with a great laugh. "But why dost thou think there are no schoolmasters in heaven, Hans?" "Because nobody cries there," answered Hans. "The preacher says so." Another laugh followed, and the schoolmaster stalked away greatly offended. "Such a sermon as 'I' could have given them!" he said to himself. "And nobody so much as thinks of me—not even the pastor. 'Tis an ungrateful world. Not one of these lads but I have whipped all through the alphabet, and yet they are all ready to grin when I am laughed at. But we shall see what the consistory will say."