"You shall ride all alone, and I will walk beside you," said Philip, dismounting and putting Gustaf into the saddle, but keeping his own hand on the bridle. "Has anything happened at home?" "Brother Gotthold has come; and only think, Philip! He is going to America. I wish he would take me." "Perhaps we shall all go some time," said Philip, thinking as he spoke that the way was already opening for his scheme. "Really?" said Gustaf with sparkling eyes. "Yes, really; but you must not tell any one. Show now that you are a man and can keep a secret. How is the mother?" "I don't know," replied Gustaf, his face saddening. "She does not cry; but she looks—oh, so sad! Did you hear any news?" "Yes, plenty; but I must tell mother first. You shall hear." Philip found the preacher seated by the fireside. He was growing old, but his frame seemed as vigorous and his mind as clear and active as ever. Gertrude received her son with a warm and silent embrace. She hastened to provide supper for him, but never asked a question as to the success of his errand till he had eaten and seated himself by the fire. And Philip, who had a comprehension of and sympathy with his mother's moods to which Greta could never attain, said nothing of all that was in his mind. At last Gertrude asked a question: "You have news, my son? Good or bad?" "Good, I trust, mother—not absolutely certain, but probably so. I believe I have reason to think my father may be alive and doing well." There was a dead silence while Philip told his tale. "And is that all?" said Greta, in a tone of deep disappointment, as he paused. "I do not see that it comes to anything. One man told another that my father was living somewhere in that great wilderness—that is all." "Not exactly so, Greta. He was living in a town in one of the smaller provinces—Jersey is its name. It is not a wilderness, since old Martin told me they have fine towns, farms, and churches, and even a college." "A college! Yes, that is very likely!" "I believe it is true," said Brother Gotthold. "There are several colleges in America, and many fine towns, as I can show you, since I have in my pocket a map of the country. The city to which I am going—Philadelphia—is a very large and fine one, I hear." "Larger than Eisenach?" asked Gustaf. "Oh yes, much larger, and a place of great wealth and trade. See, here it is; and here, across this great river, is the province of which Philip speaks." All crowded round to look at the map, which Brother Gotthold spread out on the table. It was a tolerably good one, shading off at the west into indefinite space, but with the eastern provinces plainly laid down. "What a great country!" said Gustaf. "Is it bigger than Germany?" "Yes, larger than all Germany, and Holland thrown in." "Yes, here is Jersey," said Philip. "If one only knew in what town to look!" sighed Greta.