At the battle of Prague, a cannon-ball
unfortunately carried my right leg and pipe away together. My first
thought was to secure the safety of my pipe, for at the moment I felt
but little pain, and then------'
"'Stop, soldier; your story is too affecting! O tell me, I entreat you,
who was the brave man, that I may also honour and respect his memory?'
"'His name was Walter von Fuerstenstein; and I have heard that his family
was of Silesia, and that his estates lay in that province.'
"'Gracious God!' ejaculated the nobleman, 'he was my father! and the
estates you mention, good old man, are now mine. Come, friend, forget
all your sorrows, and live with me under that same Walter's roof whom
you so faithfully served; and come and eat of Walter's bread, and
partake of that comfort which your age demands, and which my gratitude
for your services to the best of fathers is ready to bestow. I am too
deeply affected to say more at present; enter this mansion, where you
shall repose in peace for the remainder of your life!'
"'Thanks, noble sir, I accept your generous charity; the son of Walter
von Fuerstenstein is worthy of such a father. Here, sir, take this relic
(presenting the pipe)--it is a memorial of that Providence which has so
miraculously conducted me from the father to the son.'
"The pipe still remains hung up among the family trophies in the Castle
of Fuerstenstein."
* * * * *
THE IRIS.
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