CHAPTER II.

KÖSEN.

KÖSEN is a charming little city on the Saale. It lies in a valley surrounded by hills which are well-cultivated and finely wooded. During the summer, the river is thickly studded with rafts made of the trunks of fir-trees, principally cut from the forests about the Fichtel-Gebirge. These rafts are formed by boring holes at the top and bottom of each stem, and fastening them together with twigs. When completed, they are launched on to the river, and the stream carries them down to their destination.

"So help me God, I will stick to the Raft," said Hans Richter, when he left the village cemetery about a month after his father's funeral. He had been there to plant forest-flowers on his parent's grave, and to pray. And with a firm step he took the road which led to his old landlady's house.

"I have called to bid you good-bye," he said as he entered her cottage and shook her warmly by the hand. "I expect not to return to this part again for at least some years to come."

"So I hear," she replied. "You must take a cup of coffee with me this afternoon, and tell me why you are so anxious to leave your old home. The last time I saw you I thought you were inclined to stay in these parts."

"I am so lonely without my father, and feel I had rather go to some place where I can learn more and see more. I mean to try and get some work to do at Kösen."

"That is a long way off, over seventy miles as the crow flies, and perhaps double the distance by the river. It's my native place; I was born there."

"I know it is a good distance, but I can't help that, for business takes me to Kösen; I am going to help Wilhelm Andrea. He is appointed to take the wood to the Burgomaster, now father's dead. The head forester has written to a friend of his who keeps the toll-house, and asked him to give me some employment. He says lads are often wanted to help the rafts over the weir."

"That's true enough, for the weir is full four feet high. I can tell you it needs a good rush of water to enable them to pass it at all."

"I can't quite understand how they get over," said Hans.

"You know what a weir is, I suppose?"

"Oh yes."

"Explain it to me."

"Wherever there's a great mill to be worked, there's a weir. It's only a dam in the river to collect enough water behind it so as to turn the mill wheel."

"Quite right. You'll soon see the old flour-mill; it is a very large one, and grinds nearly all the wheat needed in Kösen for bread. Now I will tell you how the rafts go over. Every raft, as you know, has a man and a boy on it who steer with a fir pole, to which is attached a boat-hook. So soon as the weir is reached, the master of the toll-house, or his assistant, wades through the water from the shore, and stands on the weir. He also holds a long fir pole in his hands, with which he pushes the raft, so as to prevent it from drifting out of the middle of the stream and missing the best point to shoot the fall. The two on the raft have to stand perfectly still, and balance themselves carefully while they glide down the rapid, and they very often get a good shower-bath. I have watched many hundred rafts over the weir at Kösen, and also under the bridge; for the little town boasts a long and very handsome old bridge over the Saale. The moment the raft crosses the weir, there is a deal of steering wanted, for the water is often very shallow under the archways, and it needs some skill to escape the buttresses."

"I like to hear all this," said Hans, "but I thought the Saale had always plenty of water in it."

"Not always; I have known it almost dry in some places after a long drought. And I have sometimes seen the river so full in the early spring, and the current so rapid that it tore the rafts apart, and dashed the stems of the trees against the bridge."

"Father used to say the rafts made a noise when they passed over the weir."

"And he was right. I know that I often thought it thundered when several went over in succession."

"I must be leaving now; we start away early to-morrow morning."

"I only wish I had some friends at Kösen, for I would speak a good word for you, my dear," said the kind landlady. "But I've been away so long that all my acquaintances have forgotten me. I, like you, Hans, have no relations, for I was an only child."

"Thank you all the same," answered the lad. "I don't feel so lonely as I thought I should, for I have been so used to hear father talk to God that since he's been dead, I've begun to talk to Him myself much more than I used to do."

"That's well. Your father was a good man, Hans; do you follow in his footsteps. I am glad Wilhelm is to be your companion; though I hear he does not remain at Kösen, but is going on to Halle. You'll not be long without finding new friends; only choose those who will raise you higher, and not sink you lower, for we've plenty to pull us down here. We need to have the constant presence of God's Spirit in our hearts if we would live upright and noble lives. Farewell; may God go with you."

Hans Richter and his companion arrived at Kösen on a beautiful evening in June. The moon was at its full, and shone directly over the weir, giving the rapid a silvery appearance. So exquisite was the scene that many of the townspeople and visitors gathered on the old bridge to watch the effect of the moonlight on the water.

Kösen is one of the smallest towns in Germany; it is not thickly populated, save in the summer months when its saline waters attract many strangers, as they are considered to be especially beneficial for children.

"We will not go so far as the toll-house," said Wilhelm Andrea; "it is too late to pay duty to-night. We will just moor our raft to a stake."

The raft was soon securely fastened to one of the many stakes which are placed at intervals along the banks of the Saale. And then Hans and his companion went off in search of a night's lodging.

They slept soundly in the small double-bedded room which they secured at a little inn, nor did they awake until the sun was high in the heavens. Hans was the first to rouse up, but Wilhelm was too tired to think of the day's work which lay before him. So the lad determined to go at once to the forester's friend at the toll-house, and ask if he could find him any employment, for he did not wish to lose time; he had to win his bread by his own exertions. The bundle which lay on his bed contained his best suit of clothes, a pair of boots, two shirts, and his father's Bible; all besides he had disposed of, and after meeting outstanding expenses with the results of the sale he had one thaler, or three shillings, left.

Before the boy set out, he read the twenty-third Psalm, and thought of his father's dying words; then he knelt in prayer to God, and asked for a blessing to rest on him, and that he might find friends and employment, and be honest, and not afraid of holding on to the right in time of temptation. When he had ended his prayer, he rolled his Bible carefully up in his clothes, then tied the bundle in a large silk pocket-handkerchief, and went in search of the forester's friend, who was known in Kösen as Karl Schmidt the toll-master.

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