and a kindly feeling towards them.  “I shall write down in my book,” said he, “so that I shall never forget it, that I once travelled with two Americans!” We stopped together for the night at the only inn in a large, beggarly village, where we obtained a frugal supper with difficulty, for a regiment of Polish lancers was quartered there for the night, and the pretty Kellnerin was so busy in waiting on the officers that she had no eye for wandering journeymen, as she took us to be.  She even told us the beds were all occupied and we must sleep on the floor.  Just then the landlord came by.  “Is it possible, Herr Landlord,” asked our new companion, “that there is no bed here for us?  Have the goodness to look again, for we are not in the habit of sleeping on the floor, like dogs!” This speech had its effect, for the Kellnerin was commanded to find us beds.  She came back unwillingly after a time and reported that two, only, were vacant.  As a German bed is only a yard wide, we pushed these two together, but they were still too small for three persons, and I had a severe cold in the morning, from sleeping crouched up against the damp wall.

The next day we passed the dividing ridge which separates the waters of the Elbe from the Danube, and in the evening arrived at Znaim, the capital of Moravia.  It is built on a steep hill looking down on the valley of the Thaya, whose waters mingle with the Danube near Pressburg.  The old castle on the height near, was formerly the residence of the Moravian monarchs, and traces of the ancient walls and battlements of the city are still to be seen.  The handwerker took us to the inn frequented by his craft—­the leather-curriers—­and we conversed together till bed-time.  While telling me of the oppressive laws of Austria, the degrading vassalage of the peasants and the horrors of the conscription system, he paused as in deep thought, and looking at me with a suppressed sigh, said:  “Is it not true, America is free?” I told him of our country and her institutions, adding that though we were not yet as free as we hoped and wished to be, we enjoyed far more liberty than any country in the world.  “Ah!” said he, “it is hard to leave one’s fatherland oppressed as it is, but I wish I could go to America!”

We left next morning at eight o’clock, after having done full justice to the beds of the “Golden Stag,” and taken leave of Florian Francke, the honest and hearty old landlord.  Znaim appears to great advantage from the Vienna road; the wind which blew with fury against our backs, would not permit us to look long at it, but pushed us on towards the Austrian border.  In the course of three hours we were obliged to stop at a little village; it blew a perfect hurricane and the rain began to soak through our garments.  Here we stayed three hours among the wagoners who stopped on account of the weather.  One miserable, drunken wretch, whom one would not wish to look at more than once, distinguished himself