,
and praying in my heart, that despite all his mischances, my own might
end as happily.

CHAPTER LI.

MUNICH.

The rest and quietness of the preceding day had so far recovered me from
the effects of my accident, that I resolved, as soon as breakfast was
over, to take leave of my kind friends, and set out for Munich.

"We shall meet to-night, Harry," said Waller, as we parted--"we shall
meet at the Casino--and don't forget that the Croix Blanche is your
hotel; and Schnetz, the tailor, in the Grande Place, will provide you
with every thing you need in the way of dress."

This latter piece of information was satisfactory, inasmuch as the
greater part of my luggage, containing my uniform, &c., had been left in
the French diligence; and as the ball was patronised by the court, I was
greatly puzzled how to make my appearance.

Bad roads and worse horses made me feel the few leagues I had to go the
most tiresome part of my journey. But, of course, in this feeling
impatience had its share. A few hours more, and my fate should be
decided; and yet I thought the time would never come. If the Callonbys
should not arrive--if, again, my evil star be in the ascendant, and any
new impediment to our meeting arise--but I cannot, will not, think this
--Fortune must surely be tired of persecuting me by this time, and, even to
sustain her old character for fickleness, must befriend me now. Ah! here
we are in Munich--and this is the Croix Blanche--what a dingy old
mansion! Beneath a massive porch, supported by heavy stone pillars,
stood the stout figure of Andreas Behr, the host. A white napkin,
fastened in one button-hole, and hanging gracefully down beside him--a
soup-ladle held sceptre-wise in his right hand, and the grinding motion
of his nether jaw, all showed that he had risen from his table d'hote to
welcome the new arrival; and certainly, if noise and uproar might explain
the phenomenon, the clatter of my equipage over the pavement might have
risen the dead.

While my postillion was endeavouring, by mighty efforts, with a heavy
stone, to turn the handle of the door, and thus liberate me from my cage,
I perceived that the host came forward and said something to him--on
replying, to which, he ceased his endeavours to open the door, and looked
vacantly about him. Upon this I threw down the sash, and called out--

"I say, is not this the Croix Blanche?"

"Ya," said the man-mountain with the napkin.

"Well, then