their political
condition and constitution. Our kingdom is the kingdom of souls, which
are one and the same, whether they live in a republic or under a
tyranny, whether their bodies are white or black. We are glad to have
the body free, but it is not our work to make it so."

"Theodore Parker takes a different view," Roland suddenly exclaimed.

As if a bullet bad whistled close to his ears, Sonnenkamp cried,--

"What? Where did you find out about that man? Who told you about him?
How's this?"

Roland trembled all over, for his father seized him by his shoulders
and shook him.

"Father!" he cried out in a manly voice, "I have a free soul too! I am
your son, but my soul is free!"

All were amazed. Nothing more would be said about his voice changing.

Sonnenkamp let go his hold, his breast heaving up and down as he panted
violently for breath. Suddenly he exclaimed,--

"I am very glad, my son; that's noble, that's grand. You are real young
America It's right! fine! splendid!"

They were struck with fresh amazement. This sudden change of mood in
Sonnenkamp took all present by surprise. But he went on in a mild
tone,--

"I am glad that you were not to be frightened. You have good
pluck--it's all right. Now tell me where you found out about Parker?"

Roland gave a true account of matters, except that he said nothing
about Parker's name having been mentioned by the Professorin when they
were making their calls in the town.

"Why didn't you speak of it to me?" asked his father.

"I can keep a secret," replied Roland. "You've tested me yourself on
that score."

"That's true, my son; you have justified my confidence."

"We ought to have gone home a long time ago," said the Major, and this
was the signal for the company to break up.

The Major had never felt his heart beat so violently, never when
stationed on some exposed outpost, never even in battle, as during the
reading; and yet it beat worse, after the conversation had taken so
threatening a turn.

He kept shaking his big head, and stretching out with his hands in the
air deprecatingly and beseechingly, as if he would say,--

"For heaven's sake, drop this talk! It's not good, 'twill only do
harm!"

Then he took another look at Sonnenkamp, shrugging up his shoulders.
"What _does_ the man mean," he thought, "by talking to us in this
style! We wouldn't put a hair in his path; what's the use of stirring
us up in this matter! Oh, Fraeulein Milch had the