"I was supposed to have been stolen on St. John’s night by the golden-haired Stillevolk of the marshes, or the cranky old red-capped Trolds, who dwelt among the green holms; but it was not so. I became a hussar under Duke Karl Peter of Gottorp, and have risen to be what thou seest—general of cavalry under our father the Emperor! So drink a deep becker of our Danish beer, brother Michel; drink to the old times of our boyhood, and fear not. I know our patrimony is but one of the poor _Bauerhafen_, which are divided according to the number of ploughs; but to-morrow thy _hufe_ shall be a _Freihufen_, Michel, free of all burdens, even to the duke’s bailiff or the King of Denmark." Next day the general dined at the old mill, where he sat upon the same hard stool he had used in boyhood, supping his Schleswig _groute_ with a horn spoon from a wooden platter. In memory of the olden time, he placed a marble cross above his parent’s grave. Three days after the trumpets were heard, and the army marched from Schleswig to return no more; but the general—the same General Bauer who served under Suwarrow in the famous campaigns of Italy—made a plentiful provision for his poor relatives, and sent the miller’s only son, his namesake, Karl, to Court for his education, Karl rose to a high place in the household of the Czar, and it was his son, Karlovitch Bauer, who prepared so specious a trap for our advanced guard on the Bulganak—a trap happily rendered useless by the skill and foresight of our leader, the good and brave Lord Raglan. *CHAPTER XXXVI.* Let me go! The day is breaking, Morning bursts upon mine eye, Death this mortal frame is shaking; But the soul can never die! Let me go! The day-star beaming, Gilds the radiant realms above; Full its glory on me streaming Lights me to the land of love! LAYS OF THE PIOUS MINSTRELS. Wrapped in my cloak and blanket, I had fallen into an uneasy slumber, close by a fragment of ruined wall, the boundary, perhaps, of a deserted Tartar garden, when I was roused by Sergeant Stapylton of my troop. "I beg pardon, sir, for disturbing you," said he, in an apologetic way; "but as I was returning from the river side with water for some of the wounded horses, I passed a Frenchwoman, as I take her to be, dying to all appearance, and thought, as she can’t be left where she is, that if you would come and speak to her——" "Of course," said I, springing up; "where is she?" "Near a grove of olive trees—just a pistol-shot or so beyond our advanced sentries. You can pass me to the front, sir, as your guide."