hose names we now hear
spoken of may still be living; and, what is more, disgrace and curses
may be heaped upon their dust. But a time _will_ come when the great
institutions of which they have laid the foundation will arise and
render justice to the memory of those who sacrificed themselves for
the happiness of future generations. To die for our country is a
glorious death; but to carry to the grave with us the curses of
thousands, to die despised and hated for the salvation of future
millions, oh! that is sublime--it is Messiah-like!"

"My son--my only son!" cried his father, throwing himself passionately
on the young man's neck, and sobbing bitterly, "do you see these
tears?"

"For the first time in my life I see them, father--I see you weep; my
heart can scarcely bear the weight of these tears--and yet I go! You
have reason to weep, for I bring neither joy nor glory on your
head--and yet I go! A feeling stronger than the desire of glory,
stronger than the love of my country, inspires my soul; and it is a
proof of the strength of my faith that I see your tears, my
father--and yet go!"

"Go!" murmured his father in a voice of despair. "You may never return
again, or, when you do, you may find neither your father's house nor
the grave in which he is laid! But know, even then, in the hour of
your death, or in the hour of mine, I do not curse you--and now,
leave me." With these words he turned away, and motioned to his son to
depart.

Imre silently left the apartment, and as soon as he had closed the
door the tears streamed from his eyes; but before his sword had struck
the last step his countenance had regained its former determination,
and the fire of enthusiasm had kindled in his eye.

He then went to take leave of his Uncle Jozsef, whom he found
surrounded by his family. The twins were sitting at his feet, while
his wife was playing bo-peep with the little one, who laughed and
shouted, while his mother hid herself behind his father's arm-chair.

Imre's entrance interrupted the general mirth. The little boys ran
over to examine the sword and golden tassels, while the little one
began to cry in alarm at the sight of the strange dress.

"Csitt baba!" said his mother, taking him from his father's arms;
"your cousin is going to the wars, and will bring you a golden horse."

Jozsef wrung his nephew's hand. "God be with you!" he exclaimed; and
added in a lower voice, "You are the noblest of us all--you have done