to make of the reverend gentleman and his talk, and I was ashamed, because of my adventures in Rome, to tell him here before all these people that I myself was the missing thrice happy bridegroom. The goblet kept passing from hand to hand; the reverend gentleman had a kind word for every one, so that all liked him, and finally the entire company chatted gaily together. The students grew more and more loquacious, recounting their experiences in the mountains, and at last brought out their instruments and played away merrily. The cool breeze from the water sighed through the leaves of the arbor, the afternoon sun gilded the woods and vales which flew past us, while the shores echoed back the notes of the horn. And when the reverend gentleman, stimulated by the music, grew more and more genial, and told us stories of his youth, how in vacation-time he too had wandered over hills and dales, and had been often hungry and thirsty, but always happy, and how, in fact, a student's whole life, from its first day in the narrow, dry lecture-room to its last, is one long vacation, then the students drank all around once more, and struck up a song, that reechoed among the distant mountains "The birds are southward winging Their yearly, airy flight, And roving lads are swinging Their caps in morning's light; We students thus are going, And, when the gates are nigh, Our trumpets shall be blowing, In token of good-bye. A long farewell we give thee, O Prague, for we must leave thee, _Et habeat bonam pacem, Qui sedet post fornacem_! "When through the towns we're going At night, the windows shine, Behind their curtains showing Full many a damsel fine. We play at many a gate-way, And when our throats are dry We call mine host, and straightway He treats us generously; And o'er a goblet foaming We rest awhile from roaming. _Venit ex sua domo-- Beatus ille homo_! "When roaming through the forest Cold Boreas whistles shrill, 'Tis then our need is sorest; Wet through on plain and hill, Our cloaks the winds are tearing, Our shoes are worn and old, Still playing, onward faring, In spite of rain and cold. _Beatus ille homo Qui sedet in sua domo Et sedet post fornacem, Et habeat bonam pacem!"_ I, the captain, and the girl, although we did not understand Latin, joined gaily in the last lines of each verse; but I was the gayest of all, for I had caught a glimpse in the distance of my toll-house, and soon afterward the castle shone among the trees in the light of the setting sun. CHAPTER X