CONCLUSION.

AND now, my unknown, nameless reader, far more my companion than I have been yours, we part here. We may have differed often, but time will come when you will acknowledge I have told you rightly, for I have ever told you truth. To you I am a stranger-to me you are a friend, and I think lovingly of you, for you have retraced with me the happiest months of my existence. If in one single conscience I have rectified one single error, I am more than repaid for every toil-if, in so many pages, you have found one whereby to gain instruction or wherewith to cheat ennui, do not be without indulgence towards the

rest.

Did you ever hear an old song of Wilhelm Müller's ?"

"Oh! wandern, wandern! meine Lust!

Oh! wandern!"

It will be my song for many a long day, till you and I, reader, start again on some fresh wandering. Till then, farewell!

APPENDIX. .

VOL. II.

G G

APPENDIX.

No. 1.

Verses addressed to the Emperor Franz Josef, by the “Youth of Linz,” and recited to him by a Linzer Student, on the 25th of November, 1849.

The times were dark and heavy, and with destruction rife,
War, rapine, reigned o'er Europe, and loudly raged the strife;
But victory crowned the right cause, and peace spread o'er the land,
And to thy people, Master, thou stretchest forth thy hand.

From land to land thou speedest, thou goest from town to town,
As once thy great ancestor, of glorious renown;

All hearts are bounding t'wards thee, all homages are thine,
The loyal from each province come forth, an endless line.

But thou art thoughtful, Master! at many a grey-haired head
Thou lookest, and it seems as though a voice within thee said:
May these be trusted? will their faith secure me from all wrong?
My task is hard and trying, my way is wide and long!"

Yes, Master! it is true, thou hast bound with unsafe chain
Thy ship to many an anchor that will but snap in twain;
Stars, too, whate'er their lustre, will drop from out thy sphere;
And of all those who greet thee, full many will disappear.

But see, oh, Star of Austria! the spirit of thy times
Surrounds thee in these children of thy fair native climes ;
See here the fresh green branches on Austria's fresh green tree,
See here the youth of Austria-they live, they breathe for thee!

These are thine own, oh, Master! whatever may betide,
To watch thy glory, mark thy fame, for ever by thy side.

Their strength is thine, their labours, their havings, and their life; For thee they'll fight, thy foes they'll quell, or die in desp'rate strife.

They who now stand around thee, in youth's bright, brilliant day,
Will later, Sire, surround thee, thy manhood's firmer stay.
One day, too, Sire, as vet'rans, after life's wear and tear,
Thou'lt see them on thy passage, their white-haired foreheads bare.
Thy time, thine age, are theirs, Sire; in them lies all thy force.
United strength, it is thy word,* of greatness is the source.
The youth of Austria, Master, which proudly greets thee now,
Will one day bind the laurel wreath about thy princely brow.

Then let no sad thought vex thee, thy heart's horizon clear,
Though aged hearts may leave thee, more youthful ones are here.
Our young devotion, Master, is staunch as older truth,

In place of Austria's veterans, now count on Austria's youth.

This little poem, which has no great literary merit in the original, and far less in my translation, serves to show the spirit which reigns throughout a considerable portion of the Empire. This antagonism of the young and the old may be looked upon as somewhere about the greatest of Austria's internal divisions.

No. 2.

Letter from the Patriarch Josef Rajacic to General Hrabowsky.

Excellency,

Karlowitz, Aug. 1, 1849.

With a bleeding heart, I take up my pen in order to describe to you the atrocities which, in certain spots where civil war has broken out, have been committed by the Magyar troops. In the Servian town of Futtak there was not one single enemy to be found, when the Magyar troops, commanded by your Excellency, burst into the place, some of them slaughtering innocent children, women, and old men ;

*Viribus unitis, the device of Franz Josef.