opposite me, while I examined the map, and endeavoured to hide a bit
of a ragged ruffle that had made its appearance. After steadfastly
looking at me, she at length exclaimed, with a sad and mournful
tone--"Good God! who knows what is now become of my poor son! I can
see, sir, you too are of a good family. My son would go and seek
his fortune, and for these eight years have I had no tidings of him.
He must now be in the Austrian cavalry." I asked in what regiment.
"The regiment of Hohenhem; you are his very picture." "Is he not of
my height?" "Yes, nearly." "Has he not light hair?" "Yes, like
yours, sir." "What is his name?" "His name is William." "No, my
dear mother," cried I, "William is not dead; he was my best friend
when I was with the regiment." Here the poor woman could not
contain her joy. She threw herself round my neck, called me her
good angel who brought her happy tidings: asked me a thousand
questions which I easily contrived to make her answer herself, and
thus, forced by imperious necessity, bereft of all other means, did
I act the deceiver.

The story I made was nearly as follows: --I told her I was a soldier
in the regiment of Hohenhem, that I had a furlough to go and see my
father, and that I should return in a month, would then take her
letters, and undertake that, if she wished it, her son should
purchase his discharge, and once more come and live with his mother.
I added that I should be for ever and infinitely obliged to her, if
she would suffer my comrade, meantime, to live at her house, he
being wounded by the Prussian recruiters, and unable to pursue his
journey; that I would send him money to come to me, or would myself
come back and fetch him, thankfully paying every expense. She
joyfully consented, told me her second husband, father-in-law to her
dear William, had driven him from home, that he might give what