l hold you in His safe keeping, and guide your footsteps
back home to me again!"

"Never you fear, little mother. He will do that, and in a year's time
we shall all meet again under the old roof-tree, I'm certain. Keep your
heart up, mother mine, the same as I do; remember, it is not a
`Farewell' I am saying for ever, it is merely `Auf wiedersehen!'"

"I hope so, Eric, surely; still, we cannot tell what the future may
bring forth!" said the other sadly.

Mother and son were wending their way through the quaint, old-fashioned,
sleepy main street of Lubeck that led to the railway station--a bran-new
modern structure that seemed strangely incongruous amidst the antique
surroundings of the ancient town. Although it was past the midday hour,
hardly a soul was to be seen moving about; and the western sun lighted
up the green spires of the churches and red-tiled pointed roofs of the
houses, glinting from the peculiar eye-shaped dormer windows of some of
the cottages with the most grotesque effect and making them appear as if
winking at the onlooker. It seemed like a scene of a bygone age
reproduced on the canvas of some Flemish artist; and, but that Eric and
his mother were accustomed to it, they must have rubbed their eyes, like
Rip Van Winkle when he came down from the goblin-haunted mountain into
the old village of his youth, in doubt whether all was real, thinking it
might be a dream. Presently, however, they were at the railway station,
and they would have been convinced, if they had felt inclined to believe
otherwise, that they were living in the present. But, even here, amid
all the hissing of steam, and creaking of carriages, and whirr of moving
machinery, the queer old-world costumes of the peasantry, with their
quaint hats and mantles, which more resembled the stage properties of a
Christmas pantomime than the known dress of any people of the period,
all spoke of the past--a past when the great Barbarossa reigned in
Central Europe, and when there were "Robbers of the Rhine," and "Forty
thousand virgins," in company with Saint Ursula, canonising the sainted
and scented city of Cologne. Ah, those days of long ago!

"Here we are at last, mother," said Eric, slinging the bag containing
his sea kit on to the railway platform. "The old engine is getting its
steam up, and we'll soon be off. Cheer up, little mother! As I've told
you, it is not a good-bye for ever!"

"So you say, my son. The young ever look for