nship were subdued
to a respectful deference by the placid dignity of her who walked before
him. It was in that memorable year whose doings are recorded in our
memory with all the solemn force of History, and all the distinct and
vivid effect of events passing before our own eyes; that era, when
Thrones rocked and tottered, and kings, who seemed destined to transmit
their crowns to unborn generations, became exiles, and cast away, their
state a mockery, and their princely homes given up to pillage; when
the brightest day-dreams of good men became bound up with the wildest
imaginings of the bold and the bad, and the word Freedom comprehended
all that was most glorious in self-devotion, and all that was most
relentless in hate,----in that troubled time, Hanserl wisely sought
out the districts of mountain and crag--the homes of the hunter--in
preference to the more travelled roads, and prudently preferred even
the devious windings of the solitary glens to the thronged and peopled
highways that connected great cities.

His plan was to direct their steps through the Vorarlberg into the
Tyrol, where, in a small village near Meran, his mother still lived.
There, in case of need, Nelly would find a refuge, and, at all events,
could halt while he explored the way to Vienna, and examined how far it
might be safe for her to proceed thither. Even in all her affliction,
out of the depths of a sorrow so devoid of hope, Nelly felt the glorious
influence of the grand scenery through which they travelled. The giant
mountains, snow-capped in early autumn; the boundless forests that
stretched along their sides; the foaming cataracts as they fell in
sheets of hissing water; the tranquil lakes that reflected tower and
cliff and spire; the picturesque village, where life seemed to ripple on
as peacefully as the clear stream before the peasant's door; the song of
the birds, the tolling of the bells, the laugh of the children; the Alp
horn answered from cliff to cliff, and dying away in distant echo,--all
these were realizations of many a girlish hope, when she wished her
father to seek out some secluded village, and pass a life of obscure but
united labor. There was no Quixotism in the fancy. She knew well what
it was to toil and work; to rise early, and go late to rest; to feed on
coarse fare, and be clad in mean attire. All that poverty can inflict
of privation she had tasted, but fearlessly and with a bold heart;
self-reliance elevating he