find a sympathetic friend at that time of night.

After all, Uncle Frederick was his confidant in many matters; he would
look him up.

As he knew that Uncle Frederick was at Aunt Maren's, he betook himself
towards the Palace in order to meet him on his way back from Homan's
Town. He chose one of the narrow avenues on the right, which he knew to
be his uncle's favorite route; and a little way up the hill he seated
himself on a bench to wait.

It must be unusually lively at Aunt Maren's to make Uncle Frederick stop
there until after ten. At last he seemed to discern a small white object
far up the avenue; it was Uncle Frederick's white waistcoat approaching.

Hans rose from the bench and said very seriously, "Good-evening!"

Uncle Frederick was not at all fond of meeting solitary men in dark
avenues; so it was a great relief to him to recognize his nephew.

"Oh, is it only you, Hans old fellow?" he said, cordially. "What are you
lying in ambush here for?"

"I was waiting for you," answered Hans, in a sombre tone of voice.

"Indeed? Is there anything wrong with you? Are you ill?"

"Don't ask me," answered Cousin Hans.

This would at any other time have been enough to call forth a hail-storm
of questions from Uncle Frederick.

But this evening he was so much taken up with his own experiences that
for the moment he put his nephew's affairs aside.

"I can tell you, you were very foolish," he said, "not to go with me to
Aunt Maren's. We have had such a jolly evening, I'm sure you would have
enjoyed it. The fact is, it was a sort of farewell party in honor of a
young lady who's leaving town to-morrow."

A horrible foreboding seized Cousin Hans.

"What washer name?" he shrieked, gripping his uncle by the arm.

"Ow!" cried his uncle, "Miss Beck."

Then Hans collapsed upon the bench.

But scarcely had he sunk down before he sprang up again, with a loud
cry, and drew out of his coat-tail pocket a knubbly little object, which
he hurled away far down the avenue.

"What's the matter with the boy?" cried Uncle Frederick, "What was that
you threw away?"

"Oh, it was that confounded Bluecher," answered Cousin Hans, almost in
tears.--Uncle Frederick scarcely found time to say, "Didn't I tell you
to beware of Bluecher?" when he burst into an alarming fit of laughter,
which lasted from the Palace Hill far along Upper Fort Street.

THE END.

End of Project Gutenberg's Tales of Two Countries, by Alexande