gangs was unfortunate enough to chance upon springs at every few steps,
the soft soil gave it much trouble, and greatly prolonged its labors.

The other engineers avoided the soft places when making their surveys.
But Ludwig, with his high boots, stepped right into the midst of the
laborers, and helped those who were working with their shovels and
spades.

He had also arranged the fire service of the whole valley, and had so
distinguished himself at the fire in the little town that he received a
medal in recognition of his having saved a life. The more excited
members of our political party were of the opinion that he ought to
refuse it, alleging that it was wrong for him to receive so princely a
decoration; but he replied: "For the present the Prince is the
representative of the popular voice." He accepted the badge, but
fastened it to the fireman's banner.

CHAPTER II.

I had been elected a member of the Frankfort Parliament.

September's days of terror were doubly terrible to me. I had been told
that my son Ludwig was leading a body of Turners who had joined the
malcontents, and that they had determined to reverse the decision of
the majority of the popular delegates, and to break up the Parliament.

At the imminent peril of my life, I climbed from barricade to
barricade, hoping to be able to induce the Turners to retreat, and
perhaps to find my son.

One of the leaders, who accompanied me as a herald, called out at the
top of his voice, "Safe-conduct for the father of Ludwig Waldfried!"

My son's fair fame was my best protection; but T could not find Ludwig.

I have suffered much, but those hours when, with my wife and my next
son Ernst, then six years old, I heard the rattling of muskets without
the door, were the most wretched that I can now recollect.

In the following spring, when the Parliament was dissolved, the
revolution had already begun with our neighbors in the next state.

For a long time the fortunes of battle seemed doubtful. I never
believed that the uprising would succeed; but yet I could not recall my
son. At that time we no longer heard the rattling of musketry, and I
can hardly bear to think of how we sat at home in sad but fearful
suspense. One thing, however, I would not efface from my memory. My
wife said, "We cannot ask for miracles. When the hailstorm descends
upon the whole land, our well-tilled fields must suffer with the rest."
Oh, that I