the soldiers.

This is not a Turco.

playing mummery with you?'

Is this man

'It is the soapboiler!' a voice called from the crowd; and now poor Krakel exclaimed: 'Oh, sir, I was made a victim of barbarous insults by two escaped prisoners! Oh, I had not deserved it; I was a firm upholder of the good cause. You will punish them, sir; they are hiding in the sunken fort.'

The Commander could no longer keep serious; he burst out laughing, and all the crowd joined him. 'No, my estimable sir,' he said; 'escaped prisoners would have better things to do than play such freaks when their own lives are in danger; and they would have found it difficult to procure such theatrical clothing as this. A victim you have been made, but by some funny birds who don't come under military jurisdiction. Better ask yourself whether it was not rather a mild kind of retribution.'

With these words the Commander left the scene, and Krakel, followed by the hooting of the rabble, hurried to his home. When the door had closed behind him they heard the screams of his frightened wife.

N

CHAPTER XIX.

'Word over all, beautiful as the sky,

Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage

must in time be utterly lost.'

WALT WHITMAN.

MICHAELMAS vacations at last brought the summer term to a close. It had been a time of constant excitement to the boys, for the telegraph had flashed the news of many another victory to Wasserloch. Of these, however, we need not speak, since this little book is not a history of the war, but of peace in war; of human love stepping over the deathstruggle of two great nations. The author knows well enough that most boys like nothing better than tales of bloodshed and hair-breadth escapes. But he knows also of boyish generosity and love of justice; and so he hopes that those of his readers who have followed him so far, will have become thoughtful in considering the awful discrepancy that exists between all

the glorious aims of aspiring humanity, and the fact that war, the embodiment of all that is lowest and most brutal in human nature, remains still the ultima ratio of nations. Two thousand years almost have passed over this planet since the multitude of the heavenly host sang the birth-song of a new era : 'On earth peace, goodwill toward men'; and still war rages as ever, and man's selfish passion will not allow the 'Glory to God in the highest.' Oh, you boys who read these words, and who some day will be men, 'save yourselves from this untoward generation,' and help to make war as despicable as the duel has already become in this country, by siding manfully with them who are following in the path of their Lord and Master, Christ.

During that fortnight's holidays the streets of the fortress town were very quiet, as most of the schoolboys had left for their country homes. Young Fritz was in Bockelow, where the veteran helped him in building his long-planned dove-cot in the yard. But the poor boy felt lonely, and did not enjoy his liberty half as much as usual, since his mother was still in Wasserloch. Indeed, what is home without a mother? And he sadly missed his brother's company in his roaming about the country, which also,

it seemed, did Ponto the Ninth, who had a sympathetic understanding for his young master's sorrows.

In the second week, however, Hans had so far improved that he could be removed to the Vicarage, and only then Huber, who had faithfully kept his ground with Mrs. Enderlein by his young friend's bedside, went for the few remaining days to his own home. But Hans caught cold during the drive to the village, and had a serious relapse, which threatened to prolong his illness far into the autumn. It was a time of deep anxiety to the clergyman and his wife.

In the fortress, meanwhile, great changes took place in the condition of the captives. The French officers were sent to an open provincial town. As to the other prisoners, their number had vastly increased, and for some time already it had been found impossible to accommodate all of them in the barrack building; many had to sleep in the casemates, which were a damp and dismal place for human habitation, unwholesome to live in. Near a strong outlying fort, therefore, whose earthworks still required much labour, thus offering the needful exercise to the prisoners, an extensive camp was built, and to that all of them, numbering several thousand

men, were removed towards the end of the holidays, in the beginning of October. When the boys returned to school for the winter term there were no longer either Turcos or other foreigners on the rampart before their class windows, and the town had regained its every-day character. Thus a long time passed without any meeting between the inmates of the camp and those of the gymnasium ; they were as far remote from each other as if they were living in different countries; that colony of prisoners by the fort seemed as inaccessible as a lonely island in the ocean.

But one afternoon in November, when Huber was taking a solitary walk on the high road outside the town, engaged in repeating some subjects for his approaching examination, he heard his name called, and, on looking round, saw Herr von Zitzewitz, the young artillery lieutenant who had come to his rescue in the boat on the evening of the Sedan celebration.

'Glad to meet you, Mr. Huber,' said the lieutenant, shaking hands with the youth. 'I had always meant to see you; but you know how it is -you at the gymnasium, we at the casino-two different worlds. However, you mustn't think I forgot you, for I had to report your fine conduct to