t me be a soldier as my brothers
were. I should have gone four years ago, when I was prevented, and Anna
Sophia--Ah, let me be a soldier, father," he said, interrupting himself.
"All the young men of the village are going, and I am ashamed to remain
at home."

The old man bent his head sadly. "Go then, my son," he said; "God's
blessing rest upon you!"

Thus Charles Henry went; not from a feeling of enthusiasm for the life
of a soldier--not from love to his king--but merely because he was
ashamed to remain at home.

He had now been absent several months, and his father had not heard from
him. But the news of the lately lost battle had reached the village, and
it was said that the Prince Royal of Brunswick, in whose corps Charles
Henry was, had been defeated. The old shepherd remembered this as he
sat in the meadow this bright summer morning. His thoughts were with his
distant son, and when he raised his eyes to heaven it was not to
admire its dazzling blue, or its immeasurable depth, but to pray to the
Almighty to spare his son. The peaceful tranquillity of Nature alarmed
the old man--she speaks alone to those who have an ear attuned to
her voice--she says nothing to those who listen with a divided heart.
Buschman could endure it no longer; he arose and started toward the
village. He longed to see some human being--to encounter some look of
love--to receive sympathy from some one who understood his grief, who
suffered as he did, and who did not wear the eternal smile that Nature
wore.

He went to the village, therefore, and left the care of his flock to
Phylax. It comforted his heart as he passed through the principal street
of Brunen and received kind greetings from every hut he passed. He
felt consoled and almost happy when here and there the peasants hurried
toward him as he passed their huts, and begged him to come in and join
them at their simple mid-day meal, and were quite hurt when he refused
because his own dinner was prepared for him at home. These men loved
him--they pitied his loneliness--they told him of their own cares, their
own fears--and as he endeavored to console and encourage them, he felt
his strength increase--he was more hopeful, more able to bear whatever
God might send.

"We must be united in love," said Buschman; "we will help each
other to bear the sorrows that may come upon us. To-morrow is Sunday; in
the morning we will go to the house of God, and after we have whispered
to Him the pr