does the tender paſſion yet ſlumber in thy ſoul? Haſt thou ſipped at the honied cup of chaſte connubial joy, or drank deep of the intoxicating bowl of voluptuouſneſs? Does the oil of hope feed the flame of thy love, or does a latent ſpark glow beneath the embers of deſpondency? Is the maiden, who has pleaſed thine eye, now ſighing over thee as one departed, or longing with impatience for thy return to her arms? Unlock the ſecrets of thy boſom, and I will lay open mine alſo, and tell thee what thou wilt be glad to hear.’
‘Reverend father,’ replied the guileleſs Swab, ‘as to the ſtate of my heart, be aſſured that it has never worn the fetters of love, and is ſtill free like the birds of the air from the net of the bird-catcher. I was preſſed young into the ſervice of the Emperor Albert, before the down on my chin had ripened to the ſtiffneſs of a man’s beard, or the girls paid any‘regard
