ained by a powerful fleet. The difficulty of the
step only increased my desire to effect it; and a hundred projects did I
revolve in my mind, without ever being able to fix on one where success
seemed likely. The very resolve, however, had cheered my spirits, and
given new courage to my heart; and an object suggested a hope,--and with
a hope, life was no longer burdensome.

Each morning now I set forward with a mind more at ease, and more open
to receive pleasure from the varied objects which met me as I went. Not
so my poor companion; the fatigue of the journey, added to great mental
suffering, began to prey upon his health, and brought back an ague he
had contracted in Egypt, from the effect of which his constitution had
never perfectly recovered. At first the malady showed itself only in
great depression of spirits, which made him silent for hours of the way.
But soon it grew worse; he walked with much difficulty, took but little
nourishment, and seemed impressed with a sad foreboding that the disease
must be fatal.

"I wanted to reach my village; my own quiet churchyard should have been
my resting-place," said he, as he sank wearied and exhausted on a
little bank at the roadside. "But this was only a sick man's fancy. Poor
Alphonse lies far away in the dreary plain of Auerstadt."

The sun was just setting of a clear day in December as we halted on a
little eminence, which commanded a distant view on every side. Behind
lay the dark forest of Germany, the tree-tops presenting their massive
wavy surface, over which the passing clouds threw momentary shadows;
before, but still some miles away, we could trace the Rhine, its bright
silver current sparkling in the sun; beyond lay the great plains of
France, and upon these the sick man's eyes rested with a steadfast gaze.

"Yes!" said he, after a long silence on both sides, "the fields and the
mountains, the sunshine and the shade, are like those of other lands;
but the feeling which attaches the heart to country is an inborn
sense, and the very word 'home' brings with it the whole history of our
affections. Even to look thus at his native country is a blessing to an
exile's heart."

I scarcely dared to interrupt the reverie which succeeded these few
words; but when I perceived that he still remained seated, his head
between his hands and lost in meditation, I ventured to remind him that
we were still above a league from Heimbach, the little village where we
should pas