“But even here, my child, in our own poor village, let thy devotion be a treasure, to be handed down in memory to our children, that they may know how one like themselves--more helpless, too--could serve his Vaterland. Say, Hans Jörgle, will it make thy last moments happier to think that our gratitude will raise a monument to thee in the Dorf, with thy father’s name, who fell at Elchingen, above thine own? The villagers have bid me ask thee this.” “My mother--my poor mother!” murmured Hans. “She shall never want, Hans Jörgle. The best house in the Dorf shall not have a better fireside than hers. But my question, Hans--time presses.” Hans was silent, and lay with closed eyes for several minutes; then, laying his hand on the old man, he spoke with an utterance clear at first, but which gradually grew fainter as he proceeded,-- “Let them build no monument to one poor and humble as I am; mine were not actions glorious enough for trophies in the noon-day; but let the ‘Nachtwachter’ come here at midnight--at the same hour of my blessed dream--and let him wish me a good night. They who are sleeping will dream happier; and the waking will think, as they hear the cry, of Hans Jörgle!” End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Diary And Notes Of Horace Templeton, Esq., by Charles James Lever