LOUISE, THE CHILD OF THE WESTERN FOREST.


There are many things happening in this world, dear children,--things
that happen to you yourselves day after day, which you are too young
to understand at the time. By and by, when you grow to be as old as I
am, you will remember and wonder about them all.

Now, it was just one of these wonderful things, too great for the
young children to understand, that happened to our little Louise and
her brothers and sister when the Christmas time had come around again,
and the baby was more than a year old.

It was a cold, stormy night; there were great drifts of snow, and
the wind was driving it against the windows. In the beautiful great
parlor, beside the bright fire, sat the sweet, gentle mother, and
in her lap lay the stout little Hans. The children had their little
chairs before the fire, and watched the red and yellow flames, while
Louise had already taken out her knitting-work.

They were all very still, for their father seemed sad and troubled,
and the children were wondering what could be the matter. Their mother
looked at them and smiled, but, after all, it was only a sad smile. I
think it is hardest for the father, when he can no longer give to wife
and children their pleasant home; but, if they can be courageous and
happy when they have to give it up, it makes his heart easier and
brighter.

"I must tell the children' to-night," said the father, looking at his
wife, and she answered quite cheerfully: "Yes, tell them; they will