ing again over the pinnacles of her castles, my daughter
from that moment shall be yours, and you shall then become my cherished
son-in-law."

"And on that day," spoke the Duke, "the bride will blush more
beautifully than ever, when the merry bells peal from the towers, and
the marriage procession moves to the church. I will then approach the
bridegroom, and demand the reward to which I claim a right. But now, my
good friend, give her the bridal kiss, which is probably not the first,
embrace her once more, and then you belong to me, until that happy day
when we enter Stuttgardt. Let's drink, my friends, to the health of the
happy couple."

A smile mingled with the tears of Bertha, which gleamed in her
beautiful eyes. She filled the goblet to the brim, and having tasted
the wine, a custom in those days done by the cup-bearers at courts,
presented it first to the Duke, with a look so full of gratitude and
lovely grace, that he thought Albert the happiest man in the world, and
that many a one would not have hesitated to risk his life in order to
gain a gem of her worth.

The men took each their goblet, waiting for a toast, which the Duke
should give after his fashion. But Ulerich von Wuertemberg, casting a
long farewell look at his country, which he was about to quit, felt a
tear start in his eye, which forced him to tear himself away from the
painful view. "I now turn my back," said he, "upon objects which are
dear to me, but, please God! I'll see them again in better days. Do not
bewail my fate, but be of good cheer: as long as the Duke and his
trusty friends are united, our good cause is not lost. 'Here's to good
Wuertemberg for ever!'"

FOOTNOTE TO CHAPTER XXIV.:

[Footnote 1: If a crushed world should fall in upon him, the ruins
would strike him undismayed.]

CHAPTER XXV.

In Swabia did thy princely father reign
Beloved, and all did glad allegiance yield;
And of the people, many now remain
Who fought beneath thy banners in the field.
Sure memory cannot be in Swabia dead.
Towards Swabia let us then our footsteps turn,
And as we the Black Forest's mazes tread,
Reviving hopes will in our bosoms burn.
L. UHLAND.

So hot a summer as that of the year 1519, had scarcely ever been known
in Wuertemberg. The whole country ha