The crowd began to disperse, and my ancestor, leaning on the arm of a
friend, also retired from the scene, disgusted with himself at having
been present at such a spectacle. Before leaving the spot he had time to
notice his host of the previous night start off in his cart towards home
with the promised football. Our English student was laid up for some little time with his sprained
ankle, and some of his companions remained behind to keep him company,
while others moved onward. The ankle being cured, my relative continued his foot tour with his
friends, and afterwards returned to the university, where he studied
hard till the time came round for an examination, which he passed, and
shortly afterwards returned to England. We hear nothing more of my ancestor until ten or twelve years
afterwards, when we again find him in Germany, whither he had been
suddenly called to visit some relative, then in a dying state. He arrived just in time to close his relative's eyes, after which he saw
him quietly interred in his last home. This sad office over, he was thinking of returning to England, when, in
turning over the articles of his travelling trunk, he suddenly came
across a German book belonging to a college friend of his, one Ludwig
Engstein, that had been lent him when at the university, and which he
had forgotten to return before leaving college. His friend used to live,
he remembered, in Weimar, and not being far distant, he resolved to
visit that town and to find out his friend's house. Many changes take place in twelve years, and my ancestor only half
expected to meet his fellow-student again. He might have changed his
residence--he might be dead. Who could tell what might not have happened
to him after so long a lapse of time? Nevertheless, the Englishman, finding himself on German soil once more,
resolved to enquire after the friend of his youth, and should he succeed
in discovering him, to put him in possession of his book again, and chat
with him over their student days. Accordingly, he set off for the town of Weimar, and having arrived
there, proceeded with the said book under his arm to the house of his
friend. He had been once on a visit of a fortnight at his friend's house
when a student, and had known his mother and sisters intimately,
therefore he had no difficulty in finding the house again. The town of Weimar had changed but little during these ten or twelve
years, and once more he found himself on the old familiar doorstep. "_Ist der Herr Advocat Engstein zu Hause?_" he demanded of an old woman
who answered the door. "_Ja, mein Herr_," replied the crone. "What name shall I give?" "Oh, never mind announcing me," said the Englishman; "I'll announce
myself." So saying, he pushed past the old woman, and knocked at his friend's
study. "_Herein!_" called out a voice from within, which my ancestor had no
difficulty in recognising as his friend's, and the Englishman entered. Ludwig Engstein was seated at a table strewed with papers and documents,
and was busily writing. He was still young looking, but his friend Fritz
noticed that his face had assumed a more thoughtful expression than
when at the university. He was now a lawyer in good practice, and the
moment his friend entered he was so busy that he did not even raise his
head. "I am sorry to disturb you, Herr Advocat," said Fritz, suddenly, "but
I've come to return a book you lent me some time back." And placing the book on the table, he marched straight out of the room,
shutting the door after him. He then peeped through the key-hole and
listened awhile to note the effect of his abrupt departure on his
friend. The young lawyer's ear caught his friend's English accent, and at once
lifted his head, though not in time to catch a glimpse of his retreating
figure. I have said that Engstein recognised Fritz's accent as English, but
little did he suspect that it was his old college friend who had called
upon him and left so suddenly. He looked surprised, took up the book upon the table to look at the
title, and muttered to himself, "Who can it have been? I do not
recollect now who it was I lent it to, but it must have been a long
while ago." He was about to ring the bell, and rose for that purpose when he noticed
a face peeping at him through the opening of the door, which was now
ajar. "Who's that? Come in!" cried the lawyer. "You are busy, Herr Advocat--another time. _Ich empfähle mich Ihnen_,"
said my relative, closing the door slowly after him. But this time Ludwig had a better view of the Englishman's face. "_Potztausend!_" exclaimed the lawyer; "I shall know that face. _Ach! lieber freund Fritz._ Can it be really you? _Nein was für ein angenehme
Ueberaschung!_" he cried, rushing forward and throwing the door wide
open while he kissed his friend forcibly on both cheeks. "Sit down here and tell me to what for a fortuitous and
never-to-be-expected train of circumstances I am indebted for this
friendly and to me most agreeable and blissful-past-days-recalling
visit." Fritz then went on to relate the circumstances of his relative's death,
and how he had been called from home to attend him in his last moments. "I am sorry for the death of your relation," said Ludwig, "but I cannot
sufficiently express my extreme joy at seeing my old friend Fritz again
after so many years! Ha! ha! ha!" he laughed, partly from delight at
meeting his friend, and partly at his friend's mode of introducing
himself. "What for an eccentric and of you and your strange
countryman-characteristic way of saluting your old friend after so
long!" And the German again laughed again heartily. "And what for a busy and for-ever-with-documents-and-papers-occupied
German business man, not even to notice his swiftly entering, and
though long departed from German soil, speedily-vanishing and
almost-forgotten English friend!" retorted Fritz, mimicking the
high-flown, wordy phraseology of the German. "No, on my honour, Fritz," replied his friend; "not forgotten, I assure
you. Do you know that I had a dream of you only last night. It never
struck me till now. It is strange that I should have dreamed of you just
the night before your unexpected and to me most grateful arrival. How
strange it is that our dreams often prognosticate coming events! It is
as if the mind, partly freed from its material covering during sleep,
received the power of peering with greater accuracy into that
to-us-in-our-waking-state-obscure and unfathomable future which----"

"Precisely; I understand you," answered my relative, cutting short his
friend's philosophic remark; "but let us talk a little over old times;
that is if you are at leisure." "Yes, to be sure," answered the lawyer; "what I am doing now has no need
of hurry. Oh, by the way, Fritz, talking of old times, do you remember
the night you spent at the house of old Franz Wenzel the Scharfrichter?" "If I remember? Shall I ever forget it? ask, rather," answered my
ancestor.