my ancestor Eberhard once upon a time rode towards Worms, and sat
at table with the electors, counts and lords, each prided himself upon
the pre-eminence of his own country. One boasted of his wine,--another
spoke of his fruits,--a third of his game,--whilst a fourth talked of
the metals which his mountains produced,--but, when it came to Eberhard
with the Beard to speak, he said, 'I know nothing of your treasures,
but this I know, that if I seek shelter in a humble peasant's cot, in
the most secluded spot, tired and oppressed with fatigue, I am sure to
find a faithful Wuertemberger at hand, upon whose lap I can lay my head
in safety and sleep in peace.' They all wondered in astonishment, and
said, 'Count Eberhard is right, and long live the faithful
Wuertemberger!' But in these times behold, when the Duke traverses a
wood, they lie in wait to kill him; and, if he places his faith in his
nobles for the defence of his castles, scarcely does he turn his back
but they treat with the enemy. May the cuckoo take such faith! But go
on, Maxx, I am the man to drink the dregs of the cup without the fear
of seeing the bottom of it."

"Well, it's soon said. I remained in Tuebingen until I had convinced
myself of its surrender. Yesterday, being Easter Monday, they came to
terms; they drew up the articles in writing, and proclaimed throughout
the streets by a herald, that, at five o'clock in the evening, the
garrison would march out. Prince Christoph, your young son, retains the
castle and administration of Tuebingen, but in the service and under the
guardianship of the League; and as for the rest of the country, it is
said, that it will be divided among the knights. I have experienced
many misfortunes in life,--I killed a friend at a tilting bout,--I have
lost a dear child, and had my house burnt,--but, as true as God and his
saints are gracious to me, I never felt so much pain as at that moment
when I saw the banner of the League hoisted in lieu of your Grace's,
and their red cross cover Wuertemberg's stag horns, and bugle."

So spake Maxx Stumpf von Schweinsberg. The sun had risen, during his
narration, high above the mountains, having dispelled the mists,
leaving only a slight vapour on the heights of the Asperg. It hung upon
the horizon like a thin veil, and heightened the beauty of the scenery
in its immediate neighbourhood. Drest in the soft verdure of spring,
combined with the darker foliage of the woods, ornamented with chee