ested for the
last shake of his, and a shower of good wishes mingled with the sounds
of the crashing wheels.

"Glorious fellows!" cried Dalton, in an ecstasy of delight; "such
comrades are like brothers."

Walstein smiled at the boy's enthusiasm, and lighted his meerschaum in
silence; and thus they journeyed, each too full of his own thoughts to
care for converse. It was not at such a moment that Dalton could give
way to dark or serious reflections; the blandishments and caresses of
his new friends were too powerful to admit of any rivalry in his mind;
and even when he did revert to thoughts of home, it was to picture
to himself his father's pride at seeing him in the society of these
high-born youths; of Kate's delight at the degree of notice he
attracted; and even Nelly poor Nelly! he fancied yielding a gentle,
half-reluctant assent to a companionship which, if costly and expensive,
was sure to be honorable and high-minded.

"What would Hanserl say, too," thought he, "if he saw me seated at the
table with those whose high-sounding names are the pride of Austrian
chivalry, the Thuns, the Lichtensteins, the Schwartenschilds, and the
Walsteins, families old as the Hapsburgs themselves? Little Hanserl, to
whom these glorious families were the great lights of history, oh, if he
could have set eyes on me this last evening! when, with arms around my
neck, they called me comrade!" From this he wandered on to thoughts
of his uncle, investing the old field-marshal with every noble and
soldierlike attribute, and, above all, fancying him as overflowing with
affection and kindness. What hosts of questions did he ask about his
father and his sisters; how often had he to repeat their names and
paint their resemblances, going over the most minute details of family
history, and recounting the simplest incidents of their daily life, for
"Uncle Stephen would know all."

In such pleasant fancies he fell fast asleep, even in his dreams to
carry out those imaginings that, waking, had no control of reason.

Frank Dalton was awaked from a sound sleep and a pleasant dream of home
by the hoarse voice of a mounted dragoon, ordering the postilion to
halt; and, on looking out, he saw that they were drawn up close beside
the angle of the great wooden bridge that crosses the Danube, under the
walls of Vienna. The whole scene was one of wonderment and surprise to
him. At his feet, as it were, rolled the stream of the rapid Danube; its
impetuou