ed, gazing at Georg with sincere
pleasure in his eyes, "let us drink to the victory of the good cause,
for which you too voluntarily draw your sword. Thanks for the vigorous
pledge. Drinking is also an art, and the Germans are masters of it."

"We learn it in various places, and not worst at the University of
Jena."

"All honor to the doctors and professors, who bring their pupils up to
the standard of my dead brother-in-law, and judging from this sample
drink, you also."

"Leonhard was my teacher in the 'ars bibendi.' How long ago it is!"

"Youth is not usually content," replied Peter, "but when the point
in question concerns years, readily calls 'much,' what seems to older
people 'little.' True, many experiences may have been crowded into the
last few years of your life. I can still spare an hour, and as we are
all sitting so cosily together here, you can tell us, unless you wish to
keep silence on the subject, how you chanced to leave your distant home
for Holland, and your German and Latin books to enlist under the English
standard."

"Yes," added Maria, without any trace of embarrassment. "You still owe
me the story. Give thanks, children, and then go."

Adrian gazed beseechingly first at his mother and then at his father,
and as neither forbade him to stay, moved his chair close to his sister,
and both leaned their heads together and listened with wide open eyes,
while the Junker first quietly, then with increasing vivacity, related
the following story:

"You know that I am a native of Thuringia, a mountainous country in the
heart of Germany. Our castle is situated in a pleasant valley, through
which a clear river flows in countless windings. Wooded mountains, not
so high as the giants in Switzerland, yet by no means contemptible,
border the narrow boundaries of the valley. At their feet the fields
and meadows, at a greater height rise pine forests, which, like the
huntsman, wear green robes at all seasons of the year. In winter, it
is true, the snow cover them with a glimmering white sheet. When spring
comes, the pines put forth new shoots, as fresh and full of sap as the
budding foliage of your oaks and beeches, and in the meadows by the
river it begins to snow in the warm breezes, for then one fruit-tree
blooms beside another, and when the wind rises, the delicate white
petals flutter through the air and fall among the bright blossoms in the
grass, and on the clear surface of the river. There are also n