elp stem the revolutionary current in 1848 he
was made minister for three days,--was considered, in all the
surrounding region, as an authority upon agricultural as well as
political matters.

Pranken talked on, and the more he talked the more he enjoyed his own
witty sallies; and the more he indulged in them, the more pungent they
became. He began: "I should like to know how this man will strike you;
he has, like"--here he hesitated a little, but quickly added--"like all
great reformers, a vast train of fine dogmas, enough to supply a whole
Capuchin monastery."

Eric laughed, and Pranken, laughing also, continued: "Ah! the world is
made up of nothing but humbug! The much-talked-of poetry of a landed
proprietor's life is nothing but a constant desire for lucre, tricked
out with paint from the glow of the morning and evening sky. This Herr
Weidmann and his sons think of nothing but the everlasting dollar. He
has six sons, five of whom I know, and all look impertinently well,
with pretentiously white, faultless teeth, and full beards. These
mountains, which travellers admire, are compelled to yield them wine
from the surface, and slate, manganese, ore, and chemicals from the
mines beneath. They have five different factories; one son is a miner,
another a machinist, a third a chemist, and so they work into each
others' hands and for their common interest. I have been told that they
extract forty different substances from beechwood, and then send the
exhausted residuum as charcoal to the Paris restaurants. Isn't that a
pretty love of nature? Then, as to Father Weidmann,--you enjoy the song
of the nightingales, I know. Well, Father Weidmann obtained from the
government an edict of protection for them, because they eat insects
and are very useful to the fields and woods. Father Weidmann lives in a
restored castle, but if a minstrel came there to-day he would get no
hearing, unless he sang the noble love by which Nitrogen and Hydrogen
are bound to Ammonia. I am almost crazed with super-phosphates and
alkalies. Do you think, it is a destiny worth striving after, to be
able to increase the food of mankind by a few sacks of potatoes?"

Before Eric could answer, Pranken added: "Ah, there is just nothing
that one would like to turn to. The army is the one profession."

As they were ascending a steep hill overlooking the river with its
islands, Pranken, pointing up the stream to a white house upon the
bank, said, "Yonder is the