er husband, with their daughter of
fifteen, named for her mother. Also Eva Kropp's sister Margaret and her
husband, whose name does not appear. And there were Koelhoffer and his
wife, and Frau Schultzheimer. There is no need to remember exact
relationships. All these except the Thomases were of Langensoultz.

As they passed through another village some three miles away they were
joined by a family of name not given, but the mother of which we shall
know by and by, under a second husband's name, as Madame Fleikener. And
there too was one Wagner, two generations of whose descendants were to
furnish each a noted journalist to New Orleans. I knew the younger of
these in my boyhood as a man of, say, fifty. And there was young Frank
Schuber, a good, strong-hearted, merry fellow who two years after became
the husband of the younger Eva Kropp; he hailed from Strasburg; I have
talked with his grandson. And lastly there were among the Langensoultz
group two families named Mueller.

The young brothers Henry and Daniel Mueller were by birth Bavarians. They
had married, in the Hillsler family, two sisters of Eva and Margaret. They
had been known in the village as lockmaker Mueller and shoemaker Mueller.
The wife of Daniel, the shoemaker, was Dorothea. Henry, the locksmith, and
his wife had two sons, the elder ten years of age and named for his uncle
Daniel, the shoemaker. Daniel and Dorothea had four children. The eldest
was a little boy of eight years, the youngest was an infant, and between
these were two little daughters, Dorothea and Salome.

And so the villagers were all bound closely together, as villagers are apt
to be. Eva Kropp's young daughter Eva was godmother to Salome. Frau
Koelhoffer had lived on a farm about an hour's walk from the Muellers and
had not known them; but Frau Schultzheimer was a close friend, and had
been a schoolmate and neighbor of Salome's mother. The husband of her who
was afterward Madame Fleikener was a nephew of the Mueller brothers, Frank
Schuber was her cousin, and so on.

II.

SIX MONTHS AT ANCHOR.

Setting out thus by whole families and with brothers' and sisters'
families on the right and on the left, we may safely say that, once the
last kisses were given to those left behind and the last look taken of
childhood's scenes, they pressed forward brightly, filled with courage and
hope. They were poor, but they were bound for a land where no soldier was
going to snatch the beads and