General, and, giving some directions to his
aide-de-camp, he watched the stranger's movements with interest.

The old man put the infantry in the hussars' stirrups, and conducted
them with the utmost expedition across the wood.

The idea was as natural as that of Columbus in regard to the egg, and
yet it had occurred to no one before.

In a few minutes the rapid discharge of musketry announced that the
stranger had not been mistaken; and the batteries, which were actually
lying in ambush behind the hill, appeared retreating from either side.

Perczel then advanced with the reserve to meet his troops. They
returned in triumph with the little, grayhaired stranger, who rode
calmly on as if nothing had happened, his brow still blackened with
the smoke from the gunpowder. The troops could not sufficiently extol
his coolness and intrepidity.

"I owe you much," said Perczel, not ashamed to acknowledge the
stranger's superiority. "May I know whom I have the honour of
addressing?"

"My name is Henry Dembinszki," replied the stranger coldly.

Perczel respectfully saluted him, and placed the marshal's baton in
his hand. "It is your due; henceforward let _me_ serve in your
ranks."

GERGELY SONKOLYI.

After all, it cannot be denied that my uncle, Gergely Sonkolyi, was an
excellent man; and how well I remember him, as he hunted me in the
forest through bush and brake, while I never expected to rest until we
had made the circuit of the world.

I think I see him still, his cornelian-wood brass-headed cane in his
hand, and his cherry-wood pipe with its acorn-shaped bowl, which he
never took out of his mouth, even when he scolded--and with what
eloquence he could anathematize the sons of men! the raging of the
elements is like the notes of a clarionet in comparison! I was not one
who considered courage, under all circumstances, as a peculiar virtue;
and as soon as I perceived the storm gathering, I no longer took the
matter in jest, but looking about for the first loophole, valiantly
took to my heels, trusting to their speed to place me beyond its
reach.

But in order to explain why my uncle, Gergely Sonkolyi, hunted me
through the forest, I must turn up an early letter in the alphabet of
memory, and begin my story at the usual point--namely, the beginning.

When? I cannot precisely state the date; though so far I may
confidently affirm,--it was after the French war, and before the
cholera, that I was turned out o