The Arkansaw traveler., 1884-06-21
LEGEND OF THE CASTLES
BY MARK TWAIN.
CHATTER I.


 Nest and the larger castle between it and by t~o old knights who were twin broth CTS and bachelors. They had no reia- tives. They were very rich. They had Sought through the vars and retired to psivafe life, covered with honorable scars. They were honest, honorable men in their dealings. but the people had given them a couple of nicknames which were very sngeessive-Hen Givenaueht and Herr Heartless- The old knights were so prcud of these names that if a burgher called them by their right ones they would correct him.
 The most renowned scholar of Europe, as that time, was the Herr Doctor Franz Reikmann, who lived in Heidelberg. All Germany was proud of the venerable scholar, who lived in the simplest way, tor great scholars are always poor. He vas poor, as to his money, but very rich in his sweet daughter Hildegarde and his library. He had been all his life collect ing his library, book by book, and he loved it as . miser loves his hoarded gold. He said the two strings of his heart were rooted, the one in his daugher, the other in his boolrs and that if either severed he must die. Nov in an evil hour, hoping to win | marriage portioo for his child, this simple old man had entrusted his small savings to sharper to be ventured in slittering speculation. But this was not the worst Of it; he signed a paper without reading it That is the way with poess and scholars; they always sign without reading. The cunning paper made him responsible for heaps of things. The result was, that one night he found himself in debt to the sharper eight thou sand pieces of gold!- amount so prodigious that it simply ssupefied him to think of 1t. It was a night of woe in that house.
 "I must part with my library-i have nothing else. So perishes one heart string" said the old man.
 "What will it bring. father?' asked the girl.
 Nothing! it is worth seven hundred pieces of gold; but by auction it will go for little or nothing"
 linen you will have parted with the half of your heart and the joy of our lite 10 no purpose, since so mighty burden Of debt will remain behind"
 There is no help for it, my child. Our dariings must pass under the ham, mer. We must pay what we can."
 My father. have 8 feeling that the dear Virgin will come to our help. Let us not lose heart"
 -She can not devise miracle that will turn nothing into eight thousand gold pieces. and lesser help will bring us lit,le peace"
 "She can do even greater things, my father. She will save us; know she will"
 Toward morning. while the old man sat exhausted and asleep in his chair where he had been sitting before his books as one who watches by his beloved dead and prints them on his memory for a solace in the aftertime of empty deso- lation, his daughter sprang into the room and gently woke him, saying:
 My pEesentiment was true. She will save us! Three times has she appeared to me in my dreams and said. Go to the Herr Givenaught, go to the Herr Heart less ask them to come and bid.' There, did not tell you she would save us, the thrice blessed virgin.'
 Sad as the old man was, he was obliged to laugh.
 @Thou mightest as well appeal to the rocks their castles stand upon as to the harder ones that lie in those mems breasts, my child. They bid on books writ in the learned tongues !-they can scarce read their own"
 But Hildegarde's faith was in no wise shaken. Bright and early she was on her way up the Neckar road, as joyous as . bird.
 Meantime Herr Givenaught and Herr Heartless were having an early breakfast in the formers castle-the Sparrow's Nest-and havoring it with a quarrel l; tor although these twain bore love for each other which almost amounted to vorship, there was one subject upon which they could not touch without call ing each other hard names-and yet it vas the subject which they oftenest touched upon.
 "l tell you," said Civenaught, [" you will beggar yourself yet with your insane squanderings of your money upon what you choose to consider poor and worthy objects. All these years have imr!oss1a you to stop this foolish custom and hus- band your means, but all in vain. You are always lying to me about these se- oet benevolences, but you never have managed to deceive me yet. Every time . poor devil has been set upon his feet l have detected your hand in it-incorrigi- ble ass r
 .Every time you didn't sci him on his foe4 yourself, you mean. Where 1 give one unfortunate little private lift, you do the same for a dozen. The idea of your swelling around the country and putting yourself with the nickname of Givenaught-intoierable humbug! Be- tore would b. such a fraud as that, would cut my right hand of. Your life is continual lie. But go on, have tried my best to save you from began ing yourseh by your riotous charities- now for the thousandth time wash my hands of the consequences. A maunder- sAw <l1 Grs<,l tk see vvA at x,,s, ar~D