Theodora's brother was burnt to the ground; but he endeavoured to maintain himself as a fisherman, and Theodora fled to her sister, who lived about thirty miles off. The sister received her very kindly: she had many children, and Theodora helped her to bring them up. The two sisters lived together in peace and unity, and lightened to each other the sufferings which the war had brought upon them both. After some years she received a letter from her brother, written from the old home. He wrote to her, that his wife was dead, that his two daughters, during the war, had married away from him, and that he wished that his sister should return to him, and take charge of his house. Theodora returned therefore again to her old home.

Scarcely had she arrived in the village when she betook herself to the wood, and sought for the beech-tree in which she had placed the beautiful picture, and which she had, in her sudden flight, forgotten to take with her. But, good heavens! how everything was changed here! The path which had led to her cottage was no longer to be found: it was lost in high grass and thick underwood. Where hitherto only low bushes had grown, now tall trees had raised themselves, with widelyspreading branches: on the contrary, many large old trees, which Theodora had well known, had disappeared. There had not been for long one single trace of her poor wooden cottage; even the place upon which it had once stood she could no longer find with certainty: all around was a thick impenetrable wood. Theodora was at a deal of trouble, but in vain, to find the tree under which she had wept so much. She passed

through thorns and underwood, and carefully noticed every beech-tree." If I can no longer find that beautiful picture,"

thought she, "still the empty hollow in the tree would make known to me where once the picture had been.”

"Do not give yourself such labour in vain, good mother,” said an old man, who was gathering fire-wood there. "I think that the tree is no longer standing. As it is with us on our return to the village, so is it in the wood;-men that we left here as children are grown up; those who then were grown up are now old people; and the old people of those days are now lying in their graves. The young growth presses upon the old trees: all things in this world soon pass away: men still quicker than trees. We have here no abiding-place, therefore will we strive after that which is above, and which endures for ever."

The old man went on his way, and Theodora gave up all hope of ever again finding the tree.

Baron von Wahlheim lived many miles from here; but both that wood, and the village in which Theodora lived, belonged to the territory which he had purchased. One day he came into this very wood, in order to distribute among the people of the village firewood for the winter. The wood had grown quite wild, and would be greatly benefitted by the felling of a deal of timber. He wished, however, to see with his own eyes that every needy person obtained his proper share. He sent, therefore, for all householders, and soon distributed to this one and to that one a tree. Theodora came in the place of her brother. According to his arrangement, the tree against which Baron von Wahlheim stood as she came up, was apportioned to her brother. She stepped up, therefore, and said, "That the gracious gentleman would please to pardon her brother not coming himself, as he was ill, and could not leave his bed."

Baron von Wahlheim never thought that that aged, meanlydressed woman, was his mother; and just as little did she think that the gracious gentleman who stood before her, handsome and blooming as life itself, in a fine blue dress, and with a diamond ring on his finger, was her son. He felt, without knowing her, the most heart-felt compassion for her, and gave her the tree.

The forest-master made some demur. "It is," said he, "a pity to give away that large handsome beech-tree. Aspens and birches are good enough for poor people. The beechwood ought to be saved for the family use of the gracious Baron himself."

Baron von Wahlheim looked gravely at the forest-master, and said, "It is not only the bad, and that which we reject, which we should give to the poor, but of the best also; and especially in a time of need. The tree therefore belongs to the sister of the sick man, and, more than this, it shall be felled and cut into fire-wood at my cost, and shall be delivered also at the door of the poor people. Lay hand, then, to it instantly, you wood-cutters, before you cleave my wood."

He hastened onward in order to spare her thanks. Theodora looked after him, with tears in her eyes, and said, "God bless the good gentleman!" and then went her way.

And thus mother and son, who had seen each other in this wood, for the last time, upwards of twenty years ago, and who this moment had again met here without recognising each other, might very well again, and perhaps for ever, have become separated from each other, if the holy providence of God had not ordered it better.

Two wood-cutters immediately laid the axe to the tree:

it fell with a great crash to the earth; and the men cried out in amazement, "A miracle!-a real miracle!" The tree trunk had broken in the fall, a piece of the bark started off, and the men discovered at once that picture for which Theodora had so long sought in vain. The colours of the lovely picture were as perfectly fresh and lively as ever; and the frame, the gold of which had been tried in the fire, shimmered in the light of the sun, as if the picture had been surrounded with bright rays. The wood-cutters were young men, and knew nothing of the history of the picture. "It goes beyond our understanding,' said they, "how that beautiful picture of the Virgin should ever get into the tree! There is something unheard of in it : it is an evident miracle!"

On the disturbance which the men made, Baron von Wahlheim, who was scarcely two hundred paces distant, came up. He took the picture in his hand and examined it. "Of a truth," said he, "it is very beautiful,-I might almost say a master-piece. The pale, melancholy countenance, and moving glance cast upwards to heaven, are incomparably beautiful; the red dress, and folds of the dark blue mantle are also excellently painted. Still it is very easy to imagine how it came into the tree. Some pious person has made a hollow in the tree-trunk, and has placed it there. The bark, by degrees, as is usual with these trees, has again closed over it, and thus the picture has become enclosed in the tree."

Suddenly, however, Baron von Wahlheim grew pale, and his hand which held the picture trembled. "Ah!" said he, "this is most extraordinary!" He was obliged to seat himself on the trunk of the fallen tree; for he had turned to the back of the picture, and had read these words, "In the year of our