same of whom a friend of mine has spoken to me? perhaps your name may be Martin?"
"It is so," said the youth, approaching nearer and seizing the Counsellor's hand, over which he bent with deep emotion.
"And this blood ."—
"It is mine, mingled with that of your son." "Thanks then," exclaimed the father and embraced the youth much affected. "You know then who I am?"
"Yes," replied Martin, "in the fight your son pointed you out to me; Vila spoke of you, and now, my honoured sir, as I have discovered you, as I enjoy such kind care here, and as I shall soon be cured, grant that I may remain by you, and be your servant. Your domestic household is far from you, flown, dead, your tender child requires more affectionate, more gentle attendance, than these people here, with all their good will, are able to bestow. It shall be wretched, if you reject my petition."
The Counsellor gazed long on the youth's
