m followed, and then, the tramp
of the party as they led forward the prisoner, to every step of which
the sick man kept time with his hand.

We did not dare to move--we knew not at what instant our resistance
might be his death.

"Shoulder arms!" shouted out the officer from the Platz.

"Take the orders from _me_," cried Elgenheim wildly. "This duty is
mine--no man shall say I shrunk from it."

"Present arms--Fire----"

"Fire!" shouted Elgenheim, with a yell that rose above the roll
of musketry; and then with a groan of agony, he cried out,
"There--there--it's over now!" and fell back, dead, into our arms.

***** *****

Thus died the leader of the stormers at Elchingen,--the man who carried
the Hill of Asperne against an Austrian battery. He sleeps now in the
little churchyard of the "Marien Huelfe" at Cassel.

CHAPTER XXXII. THE WARTBURG AND EISENACH.

I left Cassel with a heart far heavier than I had brought into it some
weeks before. The poor fellow, whose remains I followed to the grave,
was ever in my thoughts, and all our pleasant rambles and our familiar
intercourse, were now shadowed over by the gloom of his sad destiny. So
must it ever be. He who seeks the happiness of his life upon the world's
highways, must learn to carry, as best he may, the weary load of trouble
that "flesh is heir to." There must be storm for sunshine; and for the
bright days and warm airs of summer, he must feel the lowering skies and
cutting winds of winter.

I set out on foot, muttering as I went, the lines of poor Marguerite's
song, which my own depression had brought to memory.

"Mein Ruh ist hin. Mein Hers ist schwer;
Ich finde sie nimmer--und, nimmer mehr."

The words recalled the Faust--the Faust, the Brocken, and so I thought
I could not do better than set out thither already within three days'
march of the Hartz, and besides, I should like to see Goettingen once
more, and have a peep at my old friends there.

It was only as I reached Muenden to breakfast, that I remembered it was
Sunday, and so when I had finished my meal, I joined my host and
his household to church. What a simplicity is there in the whole
Protestantism of Germany--how striking is the contrast between the
unpretending features of the Reformed, and the gorgeous splendour of
the Roman Catholic Church. The benches of oak, on which were seated the
congregation, made no distinctions of class and rank. The little village
authorities w