o the soil, and
blood-relation of this beautiful region."

Pranken in sharp, military accent gave the order to the waiter,--"A
bottle of Anslese." The wine came, and was poured out golden into the
sparkling glasses; the two men touched glasses and drank. They sat
among the vines by the shore, where the refreshing landscape stretched
itself out over green islands in the river, over gleaming habitations,
over vineyards and mountains.

The boats by the shore were still, for the swell made by the steamboat
had subsided; here and there the distant rumbling of a railway train
was heard; on the smooth stream, in which the white clouds of heaven
mirrored themselves, beams of the noonday sun sparkled, and in the
foliage of the blossoming elder the nightingale sang.

"This is life!" said Eric, extending his arms. "After a day of
loneliness amidst the confused whirl of thoughts and of people, to meet
thus unexpectedly an old acquaintance is indeed like home; and let me
tell you, moreover, that I look upon this meeting as a good omen."

Otto von Pranken nodded acquiescingly. In the first surprise, he had,
perhaps, given Eric a warmer welcome than their acquaintance warranted;
but now that Eric made no assumption of intimacy he nodded, well
pleased. Eric has the tact to know his place; it's well. Pranken
immediately drew off his glove, and reaching out his hand to Eric,
asked, "Are you taking a pleasure-tour?"

"No, I am not in the situation, nor would this be the fitting time to
do so. You probably do not know that my father died two months ago."
"Indeed, indeed! and I shall be forever grateful to our good Professor;
the little that I learned at the military school--and it is little
enough--I owe altogether to him. Ah! what patience and what unremitting
zeal your good father had! Let us pledge his memory." Their glasses
clinked. "When I am dead,'" said Eric, and his voice had a tone of deep
emotion, "I should like that my son should thus with a companion pledge
my memory in the bright noonday."

"Ah! to die!" Pranken wished to turn the subject. "If I must die,
that's enough, without knowing what is said of me afterwards. It is in
a high degree offensive to me, that they have placed their burying
ground in the midst of the vineyard yonder."

Eric made no reply, looking with fixed gaze before him, and listening
to the cuckoo's voice calling at that moment from the churchyard. "Are
you an agriculturist?" he asked, as if summon