“I am much older than our little man, Fritz, and I must say that I would be tempted to strike a bargain with somebody if every penny was stolen from me.  Now in such a predicament, I think we should help each other, so I will give Fritz five nickels to put in his empty pocket which will at least make a jingle.”

“No, no, I will not take them!” cried Fritz, flushing warmly, “I am ashamed of myself.”

“Fritz,” said Paul, “it is a very different thing for you to take the money that Uncle Braun offers you as a gift, than to ask for money in place of a bath when he offers you the bath.”

Franz saw the affair in the same light and advised the acceptance of the nickels, but added that it would take too much time to take a bath when there was so much they wished to see.

They passed on to the residence streets of the city where were some elegant dwellings, one of which especially attracted the attention of Fritz.

“Does a Rothschild live there?” he asked.

“No; there is no male descendant of Mayer Anselm Rothschild living now in Frankfort; nor is there now a Rothschild banking house.”

“Was Mayer Anselm always rich?” asked Fritz.

“No.  He came of poor Jewish parentage, and lived in his childhood in a poor little dwelling in a narrow street, but by his honesty and strict integrity he became the founder of a banking house known over the world, and his five sons, Anselm, Solomon, Nathan, Charles and James, became heads of great banking houses in different cities.”

“Then the father was born in Frankfort?” remarked Paul.

“Yes.  Mayer Anselm Rothschild was born in Frankfort in the year 1743, and died here in 1812.”

“Then he was six years older than Goethe,” commented Paul.

“Yes, they were great men in their different lines, and were contemporaries; that is, they lived at the same time.”

“But it must have been tiresome to stay in a bank and count money,” remarked Franz.  “I would rather be a forester and live in the woods.  My father says that healthy blood and sound limbs are better than money.”

“Yes, but a rich man can live where he chooses,” quoth Fritz.  “If Mayer Rothschild wished to live in the woods, he could have done so.  Couldn’t he, Uncle Braun?”

“Yes, but his living there would only be for pleasure, while the father of Franz lives there to protect and care for our forests.  Each man should do his duty to the best of his ability in the sphere that Providence has placed him.”

“Boys, do you see that old gray tower rising high above the treetops?” he continued.  “It is the old Eschenheimer tower, and gave its protective strength to the city wall, which long ago has disappeared; but the old tower remains a monument of the past.  Do you notice that ivy has climbed to its very top?  There was an old saying that when ivy reaches the top of any high building, the beginning of the end has come, and you will soon see that building in ruins.  But the ivy reached the top long ago, and the tower still stands.”