KNIGHTS-ERRANT The good mother had made a bundle for her son that would have brought a smile to my lips had it not brought tears to my eyes.

There were her homely balsams to cure Max's ailments; true, he had never been ill, but he might be.

There was a pillow of down for his head, and a lawn kerchief to keep the wind from his delicate throat.

Last, but by no means least, was the dear old mother's greatest treasure, a tooth of St.
Martin, which she firmly believed would keep her son's heart pure and free from sin.

Of that amulet Max did not stand in need.
We followed the Save for many leagues, and left its beautiful banks only to journey toward Vienna.