ull, he was entered on the list without delay:
the doctor forgot the short-sightedness, the butter, and the eggs, in
his astonishment at the boldness of Aloys.

But, when the irrevocable step was fairly taken, Aloys experienced such
a sense of alarm that he could have cried. Still, when his mother met
him on the stone steps of the office, weeping bitterly, his pride
returned; and he said, "Mother, this is not right: you must not cry. I
shall be back in a year, and Xavier can keep things in order very well
while I am gone."

On being assured of their enlistment as soldiers, the boys began to
drink, sing, and royster more than ever, to make up for the time they
supposed themselves to have lost before.

When Aloys came home, Mary Ann, with tears in her eyes, gave him a
bunch of rosemary with red ribbons in it, and sewed it to his cap.
Aloys took out his pipe, smoked all the way up the village, and made a
night of it with his comrades.

One hard day more was to be passed,--the day when the recruits had to
set out for Stuttgart. Aloys went to Jacob's house early, and found
Mary Ann in the stable, where she now had to do all the hard work
without his assistance. Aloys said, "Mary Ann, shake hands." She did
so; and then he added "Promise me you won't get married till I come
back."

"No, indeed, I won't," said she; and then he replied, "There, that's all:
but stop! give me a kiss for good-bye." She kissed him; and the cows and
oxen looked on in astonishment, as if they knew what was going on.

Aloys patted each of the cows and oxen on the back, and took leave of
them: they mumbled something indistinctly between their teeth.

George had hitched his horses to the wagon, to give the recruits a lift
of a few miles. They passed through the village, singing; the baker's
son, Conrad, who blew the clarionet, sat on the wagon with them and
accompanied; the horses walked. On all sides the recruits were stopped
by their friends, who came to shake hands or to share a parting cup.
Mary Ann was looking out of her window, and nodded, smiling.

When they were fairly out of the village, Aloys suddenly stopped
singing. He looked around him with moistened eyes. Here, on the heath
called the "High Scrub," Mary Ann had bleached the linen of the shirt
he wore: every thread of it now seemed to scorch him. He bade a sad
farewell to every tree and every field. Over near the old heath-turf
was his best field: he had turned the soil so often tha