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my ancestor Eberhard once upon a time rode towards Worms, and sat at table with the electors, counts and lords, each prided himself upon the pre-eminence of his own country. One boasted of his wine,--another spoke of his fruits,--a third of his game,--whilst a fourth talked of the metals which his mountains produced,--but, when it came to Eberhard with the Beard to speak, he said, 'I know nothing of your treasures, but this I know, that if I seek shelter in a humble peasant's cot, in the most secluded spot, tired and oppressed with fatigue, I am sure to find a faithful Wuertemberger at hand, upon whose lap I can lay my head in safety and sleep in peace.' They all wondered in astonishment, and said, 'Count Eberhard is right, and long live the faithful Wuertemberger!' But in these times behold, when the Duke traverses a wood, they lie in wait to kill him; and, if he places his faith in his nobles for the defence of his castles, scarcely does he turn his back but they treat with the enemy. May the cuckoo take such faith! But go on, Maxx, I am the man to drink the dregs of the cup without the fear of seeing the bottom of it." "Well, it's soon said. I remained in Tuebingen until I had convinced myself of its surrender. Yesterday, being Easter Monday, they came to terms; they drew up the articles in writing, and proclaimed throughout the streets by a herald, that, at five o'clock in the evening, the garrison would march out. Prince Christoph, your young son, retains the castle and administration of Tuebingen, but in the service and under the guardianship of the League; and as for the rest of the country, it is said, that it will be divided among the knights. I have experienced many misfortunes in life,--I killed a friend at a tilting bout,--I have lost a dear child, and had my house burnt,--but, as true as God and his saints are gracious to me, I never felt so much pain as at that moment when I saw the banner of the League hoisted in lieu of your Grace's, and their red cross cover Wuertemberg's stag horns, and bugle." So spake Maxx Stumpf von Schweinsberg. The sun had risen, during his narration, high above the mountains, having dispelled the mists, leaving only a slight vapour on the heights of the Asperg. It hung upon the horizon like a thin veil, and heightened the beauty of the scenery in its immediate neighbourhood. Drest in the soft verdure of spring, combined with the darker foliage of the woods, ornamented with chee
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