ess in the ranks. He is very healthy and happy. I saw
Hans and Fritz Carl, both Billows, in the Second dragoon
guards, well and cheerful.

Good-by, my heart; love to the children.

Your

V.B.

TO HIS WIFE

OFEN, June 23d, 1852.

I have just come from the steamer, and do not know how better
to employ the moment I have at my disposal before Hildebrand
follows with my things, than by sending you a little sign of
life from this very easterly but very beautiful world. The
Emperor has been graciously pleased to assign me quarters in
his castle; and here I am in a large vaulted hall, sitting at
an open window through which the evening bells of Pesth are
pealing. The outlook is charming. The castle stands high;
beneath me, first, the Danube, spanned by the suspension
bridge; across it, Pesth; and further off the endless plain
beyond Pesth, fading away into the purple haze of evening. To
the left of Pesth I look up the Danube; far, very far away on
my left,--that is, on its right bank,--it is first bordered
by the town of Ofen; back of that are hills, blue and still
bluer, and then comes the brown-red in the evening sky that
glows behind them. Between the two towns lies the broad
mirror of water, like that at Linz, broken by the suspension
bridge and a wooded island. The journey here, too, at least
from Gran to Pesth, would have delighted you. Imagine the
Odenwald and the Taunus pushed near to each other, and the
space between filled with the waters of the Danube. The shady
side of the trip was its sunny side; it was as hot as if
Tokay was to be grown on the boat: and the number of tourists
was great, but--only think of it--not an Englishman! They
cannot yet have discovered Hungary. There were, however, odd
customers enough, of all races, oriental and occidental,
greasy and washed. A very amiable general was my chief
traveling companion; I sat and smoked with him nearly the
whole time, up on the paddle-box.

I am growing impatient as to what has become of Hildebrand; I
lean out of the window, partly mooning and partly watching
for him as if he were a sweetheart, for I crave a clean
shirt--if you could only be here for a moment, and if you too
could now see the dull silver of the Danube, the dark hills
on a pa