could recall more of the sayings of that wise and pure
hearted being!

The uprising had been quelled; but of Ludwig we had no tidings. We knew
not whether he was lost, had been taken prisoner, or had escaped into
Switzerland.

One day a messenger came to me with a letter from my wife's nephew, who
was the director of the prison in the low country. He wrote to me to
come to him at once, to bring Rothfuss also, and not to omit bringing
passports for both of us. He could tell me no more by letter, and
cautioned me to burn his epistle as soon as I had read it.

"It is about our Ludwig: he lives!" said my wife. The event proved that
she was right. She induced me to take my daughter Bertha with me. She
was then but sixteen years old--a determined, courageous girl, and as
discreet withal as her mother. For to a woman paths often become smooth
which to men present insurmountable obstacles. Bertha was glad to go;
and when in the cool of the morning she stood at the door ready to
depart, with her mother's warm hood on her head, and her face all aglow
with health and youth, she said to me roguishly: "Father, why do you
look at me so strangely?"

"Because you look just as your mother did when she was a bride."

Her bright merry laughter at these words served in a measure to raise
our depressed spirits.

Terror and excitement reigned on every hand. When we reached the first
village of the next state, we found that the side nearest the river
bank had been destroyed by artillery. I learned that Ludwig had been in
command there, and had shown great bravery.

On the way, Bertha's constant cheerfulness lightened our sorrow. To
know a child thoroughly, you must travel with one alone. When Bertha
saw that I sat brooding in silence, she knew how to cheer me up with
her childish stories, and by engaging me in memories of an innocent
past, to dispel my sad thoughts. At that early day she gave an earnest
of what she was so well able to accomplish later in life.

In spite of our having the proper passports, we were everywhere
regarded with suspicion, until I at last fortunately met the son of the
commandant of our fortress. While he was yet a lad, and I a prisoner at
the fortress, I had been his teacher, and he had remained faithful and
attached to me. I met him at an outlying village where he was stationed
with a portion of his regiment.

He recognized me at once, and exclaimed, "I am doubly glad to see you
again. So you were not w