“‘Talk another time of your exploits, my friend,’ said the nobleman; ’here take this double ducat, and give me your pipe; I feel an insurmountable wish to possess it.’

“’I am a poor man, sir, and have nothing to live upon but my pension; yet I would not part with this pipe for all the gold that you possess.  Listen, sir, and I will relate to you the story of this pipe, which is remarkable, or my poverty would long ere now have induced me to sell it:—­As we Hussars were charging over the enemy, a shot from the ranks of the Janissaries pierced our noble captain through the breast; I caught him in my arms, placed him on my horse, and carried him out of the confusion of the battle.  It was an irresistible sensation of gratitude that prompted me to do so, for he had once rescued me when I was wounded and taken prisoner.  I watched over him to the latest moment; and a few moments before his death, he gave me his purse and this pipe, then pressed my hand and breathed his last sigh.  Heroic spirit! never shall I forget him!’

“As he thus spoke, the tears fell fast from the old man’s eyes; but he soon recovered himself, and proceeded—­’The money I gave to the worthy landlord under whose roof he died, and who had been thrice plundered by the enemy; the pipe I kept as a sacred remembrance of the brave.  In every situation, and through all the vicissitudes of my life, I have taken care to preserve it as a sacred relic, whether pursuing or retreating from the enemy; and when it was not in use, I placed it for safety withing my boot.  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.”