e Black Forest saw the Austrians, with their
white coats, in one month, and in the next the French, with their
laughing faces; then the Russians came, with their long beards; and
mixed and mingled with them all were the Bavarians, Wurtembergers, and
Hessians, in every possible uniform. The Black Forest was the open gate
of Germany for the French to enter; it is only ten years since that
Rastatt was placed as a bolt before it.

The marches and counter-marches, retreats and advances, cannonades and
drum-calls, were enough at times to turn the head of a bear in winter;
and many a head did indeed refuse to remain upon its shoulders. In a
field not far from Baisingen is a hillock as high as a house, which,
they say, contains nothing but dead soldiers,--French and Germans
mixed.

[Illustration: He had shot off the forefinger of his right hand.]

But my neighbor Hansgeorge escaped being a soldier, although a fine
sturdy fellow, well fit to stand before the king, and the people too,
and just entering his nineteenth year. It happened in this wise.
Wendel, the mason, married a wife from Empfingen, and on the day before
the wedding the bride was packed on a wagon with all her household
goods, her blue chest, her distaff, and her bran-new cradle. Thus she
was conveyed to the village, while the groom's friends rode on
horseback behind, cracking off their pistols from time to time to show
how glad they were. Hansgeorge was among them, and always shot more
than all the others. When the cavalcade had reached the brick-yard,
where the pond is at your right hand and the kiln at your left,
Hansgeorge fired again; but, almost before the pistol went off,
Hansgeorge was heard to shriek with pain. The pistol dropped from his
hand, and he would have fallen from his horse but for Fidele, his
friend, who caught him in his arms. He had shot off the forefinger of
his right hand, just at the middle joint. Every one came up, eager to
lend assistance; and even Kitty of the brick-kiln came up, and almost
fainted on seeing Hansgeorge's finger just hanging by the skin.
Hansgeorge clenched his teeth and looked steadily at Kitty. He was
carried into the brickmaker's house. Old Jake, the farrier, who knew
how to stop the blood, was sent for in all haste; while another ran to
town for Dr. Erath, the favorite surgeon.

When Old Jake came into the room, all were suddenly silent, and stepped
back, so as to form a sort of avenue, through which he walked tow