of Mistress Katharine, and the extreme moderation of old Gottlieb, that enabled them to live happily on the little they possessed.  Philip gave his services to the gardener for his board and lodging, but he occasionally received very fine presents when he carried home flowers to the rich people of the town.  He was a fresh, handsome young fellow, of six-and-twenty.  Noble ladies often gave him sundry extra dollars for his fine looks, a thing they would never have thought of doing for an ugly face.  Mrs. Kate had already put on her cloak to go to the gardener’s house to fetch her son, when he entered the apartment.

“Father,” said Philip, giving a hand to both father and mother, “it’s snowing, and the snow won’t do you much good.  I’ll take the watch to-night, and you can get to bed.”

“You’re a good boy,” said old Gottlieb.

“And then I’ve been thinking,” continued Philip, “that as to-morrow is New Year’s Day, I may come and dine with you and make myself happy.  Mother perhaps has no joint in the kitchen, and—­”

“No,” interrupted the mother, “we’ve no joint, but then we have a pound and a and a half of venison; with potatoes for a relish, and a little rice with laurel leaves for a soup, and two flasks of beer to drink.  Only come, Philip, for we shall live finely to-morrow!  Next week we may do better, for the New Year’s gifts will be coming in, and Gottlieb’s share will be something!  Oh! we shall live grandly.”

“Well, so much the better, dear mother,” said Philip; “but have you paid the rent of the cottage yet?”

Old Gottlieb shrugged his shoulders.

Philip laid a purse upon the table.

“There are two-and-twenty dollars that I have saved.  I can do very well without them; take them for a New Year’s gift, and then we can all three enter on the new year without a debt or a care.  God grant that we may end it in health and happiness!  Heaven in its goodness will provide for both you and me!”

Tears came into Mother Katharine’s eyes as she kissed her son; old Gottlieb said:  “Philip, you are the prop and stay of our old age.  Continue to be honest and good, and to love your parents, so will a blessing rest on you.  I can give you nothing for a New Year’s gift, but a prayer that you may keep your heart pure and true—­this is in your power—­you will be rich enough—­for a clear conscience is a Heaven in itself.”

So said old Gottlieb, and then he wrote down in an account-book the sum of two-and-twenty dollars that his son had given him.

“All that you have cost me in childhood is now nearly paid up.  Your savings amount to three hundred and seventeen dollars, which I have received.”

“Three hundred and seventeen dollars!” cried Mistress Katharine, in the greatest amazement; and then turning to Philip with a voice full of tenderness, “Ah, Philip,” she said, “thou grievest me.  Child of my heart!  Yes, indeed thou dost.  Hadst thou saved that money for thyself thou might have bought some land with it, and started as gardener on thy own account, and married Rose.  Now that is impossible.  But take comfort, Philip.  We are old, and thou wilt not have to support us long.”