he has."

"Well, why shouldn't I?" said Balthazar, laughing; "many a great lord
does nothing else all his life but make pretty speeches. Why shouldn't
I play the great lord on this my wedding-day?" He drew himself up,
cleared his throat, and continued: "I want to talk to you about our
master, who turned us from good-for-nothing drones into industrious
workmen, who gave us bread when nobody else had bread for us. Nobody,
I say, not even our mayor, who is a very good mayor, but who cannot
help the poor, feed the hungry, and give bread and work to hands
willing to work. Who is able to do that, and who does it? Who in
Berlin is the rich, the good man, who gives work to all, and in his
large and celebrated mills procures us food and wages? Who is it?"

"Gotzkowsky, our father Gotzkowsky!" cried the crowd unanimously.

Balthazar waved his hat joyfully in the air. "Therefore, say I, long
live Gotzkowsky our father!" cried he with stentorian voice. And
loud shouts and cheers followed this appeal. Men and women surrounded
Gotzkowsky and offered him their hand, and thanked him with those
simple and plain words which never fail to reach the heart, because
they come from the heart. All hailed him as friend and father,
benefactor and master. Gotzkowsky stood in their midst, proud and
erect. A deep emotion was evident in his noble features, and he raised
his beaming, radiant face to heaven, thanking God in the humbleness of
his heart for the proud joy of this hour.

"Long live Gotzkowsky, our father!" reiterated the happy multitude.

He lowered his eyes, and glanced with friendly looks at the cheerful