"Shall I tell you of Rosa Harebell, who was so good and pure and true, but who died so very young, and heard the voice of him that called to life again poor Jairus' daughter, saying, 'Arise, and live for ever'?" "No, grandpa, the story is too sad." And as the child spoke a melancholy expression stole over her countenance, and a tear stood in her beautiful eyes. "Then," said grandpa, "there is the story of the long-bow archers, who once upon a time took up their abode in our own dear German forests, and played strange tricks with travellers." "Ah, that will do bravely," said little Henry, "I love to hear of gallant heroes; do tell us all about it, grandpa; you have told us the story before, but I do so long to hear it again, and I feel sure we are all of one mind." "Not so fast, Henry," returned the old man, "those heroes, as you call them, had but little to recommend them to honest folk and well-meaning people." "Why, grandpa, were they not brave men?" "Bravery, child, is a very doubtful word." "Why doubtful, grandpa? Did they not live happily in the green wood, and did they not take away the money from hard-hearted rich people, and give it to deserving, good sort of people, who wanted it more than they?" "Yes, Henry, they did all this, but still they are not to be commended." Now you must know that Henry was a great hand at an argument; he was not more than ten and a half, half-past ten as the children say, rather young for a logician, but he loved to reason out a thing as well as he could. "Well then," said Henry, "I cannot understand it at all." "Why not, Henry?" replied grandpa. "The matter is plain enough." "Is it not right that we should help the poor?" Henry put the question as solemnly as a counsellor in any court of justice. "Yes." "Did not these long-bow archers do this?" "Yes." "Then," said Henry, "they did right; I am sure they did." "Not so; the Bible says we must not do evil that good may come; the Bible says 'thou shalt not steal,' they stole; and whatsoever their object, good or bad, no matter, it was a sin, a vice, a crime!" Henry was silent. "Shall I tell you of the Wolf-slayer?" "The Wolf-slayer, O, what is that? We never heard that story yet. Do tell it to us. Is it very amusing, and is it true, quite true?" "First," said the old man, "do you recollect last summer I showed you the remains of an old chapel all overgrown with ivy and other creeping plants, that is called the chapel of Wolfsbuhl?" "O yes, quite well; on the top of a high hill, is it not?" "It is; well, there is connected with that old chapel, the story of a Wolf-slayer. And it is that which I am about to tell you now. What sort of an animal is a wolf?" "A cowardly, ferocious beast," said one. "He is something like a dog, but larger and stronger," said another. "He is generally of a pale gray color," said a third. "And do you recollect," said the grandfather, "whether there is any Bible text concerning the wolf?"