And above the Cross's trophy
Tell the triumph of the strife,
How the world's Redeemer conquered
_By surrendering of his life_."

* * * * *

The Drummer's Daughter has crossed the sea,--has landed on the
shores of Fatherland. She has even parted from her fellow-voyagers
at the station whence the coach shall take her on to Chalons, that
venerable town and well-beloved, where the lives whence her own
sprung were born and blended. She is in the land of wonders, of
meadows, vineyards, gardens, lakes, and rivers, and of cattle
feeding on a thousand hills,--among the graves of millions of men,
among the works of heroes and of martyrs, in the land of mighty towns,
of palaces, of masters, and of slaves, where a great king is
building the great palace which shall witness, centuries hence, the
dire humiliation of his race.

Of all the crowds and companies that hurry to and fro from one end
of the land to the other, Elizabeth seeks only two persons. It is
not to her father's native town that she is drawn by the superior
attraction. She passes Chalons in the moonlight. When the coach
stops at the inn-door for a change of horses, she keeps her place,
--she acts not with the quicker beating of her heart. She looks about
her as they drive through the silent streets,--out on the moonlit
landscape when they have passed the borders of the town; she sees
the church-towers, and the old buildings, and the river whose
windings she has heard described so often by the voices that once
talked of love all along its borders. Chalons is dear to her; she